Regency 09 - Redemption (7 page)

He tried, he really did.
But it was no use. Dare’s contrary nature would not be silenced. He
had been told a few things about Lord Connor that made him uneasy
but he was self-destructive enough to disregard his own common
sense. He decided to try to woo Lady Genevieve just to prove he
could.

He had no way of knowing
that Lady Genevieve, who had been hurt at his obvious defection,
was just as determined to ignore him should he try to come around
now. Although, after a lecture from her brother, she was just as
tempted to flout convention.

Jenny was crossing the hall
to enter the library when Connor stepped into the foyer. She went
down to greet him with a hug and kiss, as was her habit, and
inquired after his wife and children.

“They are well, Jenny, they
are well,” he said, smiling. “I wonder, could you spare me a few
moments? I’d like to talk to you.”

“You came expressly to see
me?” she asked in some surprise.

“Do not sound so like I
ignore you the rest of the time, Jenny, I beg you. You make me feel
like a boor,” he complained good-naturedly.

“You could never be that,
Con,” she said. “I was just on my way to the library to see if
Father has a book on phosphates. I heard about this new way of
planting that has me itching to read more about it but I also want
to compare it to other writings about the use of
phosphates.”

Connor smiled at her
enthusiasm for a topic most ladies shuddered to even think about.
“I could share a bit of my own knowledge on the subject but I have
a lowering feeling that you already know more than I
do.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed.
“But we could talk about it anyway.”

Connor took her arm and led
her into their father’s spacious library. He steered her to a set
of chairs flanking the large fireplace and pushed her down into one
of them. His face was serious, intent, as if he had some dreadful
news to impart.

“Con, please tell me what
is bothering you,” she implored. “You are scaring me with your long
face. Verena and the children are all well?”

“Yes, I said already they
are, Jenny,” he responded. He sat down in the chair opposite and
leaned forward, settling his elbows on his knees. “I wonder if
you’d tell me how you feel about Darius Prestwich.”

Her blond brows shot up.
“Darius Prestwich?” she repeated numbly. “I find him insufferable,
if you must know.”

Her brother drew a deep
breath. “You have no tender feelings for the man?” he
insisted.

“None, Con. What is this
about?” Her tone bordered on exasperation as she watched the
consternation settle on Connor’s face.

“I was told you were
partial to him, is all. Apparently, my source was
wrong.”

“Who is this source, Con?”
she asked with dangerous softness.

He looked at her shrewdly.
“My own imagination, Jenny.” He rose to his feet, apparently ready
to leave. “It appears my reason for coming was unnecessary. I
wanted to ascertain your feelings for him because he apparently has
feelings for you. But he shouldn’t bother you now.”

Jenny stared at him from
her seat. “Now?”

“He promised to stay away
from you. And I believe him. He did not seem too upset about it,”
he murmured reflectively. “Relieved, in fact.”

With a
brother’s usual carelessness, Connor managed to severely wound
Jenny’s
amour
propre
. “What do you mean, he
seemed
relieved
?”

“
Don’t take it to heart, Jen.
Darius is not interested in you because he is not interested in
marriage. A man of his stamp is only interested in one thing. And
he can’t get that from a gently bred female.”

Jenny wasn’t naïve enough
to misunderstand her brother’s explanation. But she was still upset
that Darius seemed to have no interest in her at all. Even an
improper one would be a salve to her vanity.

Connor took his leave and
his sister bid him a rather absentminded goodbye, her thoughts
elsewhere. The words of her brother were burned into her mind,
making her angrier by the second. She’d show them, she thought with
grim determination. She’d show them both.

Dare eyed his cousin’s wife
with a certain amount of dislike. She certainly was an annoyingly
persistent woman, he thought for the thousandth time. He didn’t
know why she seemed to think he had to escort her. Miles was a
perfectly capable escort and Dare had no stomach for the opera. The
mere thought of sitting through hours of caterwauling made him
shudder.

“I won’t go, Bri,” he told
her firmly. “You have Miles. I am unnecessary.”

“You don’t understand,” she
protested. “Connor’s sisters, the daughters of the Duke of Denbigh,
asked for you and Miles personally. It is an honor that you cannot
decline.”

“Let somebody else have the
honor,” snapped Dare. He was through arguing about it.

“Dare,” Bri said then in a
conciliating tone, “I would greatly appreciate it if you would come
along. I love your brother, but even you have to admit, Miles is a
bit of a dull old stick.”

Dare unwillingly released a
bark of laughter. “I do agree. But I promised to stay away from
Denbigh’s daughters, Bri. I mean to try to keep that
promise.”

“Oh, that,” murmured Bri,
remembering the conversation they’d had earlier that week. “This
hardly counts,” she dismissed. “You are obviously being dragged to
the opera. Anyone with eyes will be able to see that you would
rather be anywhere else. Connor will not cause a scandal by calling
you out over your attendance even if we do sit with his
sisters.”

Dare crossed his arms over
his chest and stared at her for a long moment. Then he gave a
resigned sigh, saying, “Very well, Bri. You win. I’ll go. Just give
me a moment to dress.”

Dare disappeared to his
rooms and seriously considered dressing like a pirate, complete
with black eyepatch. The Opera Committee was known for being nearly
as strict as Almack’s and he knew if he dared show up in such
scandalously casual garb, he’d be tossed out on his ear.

He threw on his clothes
unmindful of the way they landed on himself, and tied his cravat in
something that looked remarkably well considering he hated the
things and avoided them whenever possible. He pushed his hand
instead of a comb through his black curls, crammed a hat on his
head, shrugged into his coat of black superfine, shoved his feet
into shiny black shoes, and walked out the door.

Bri took one look at him
and smiled warmly. “You look very handsome, Dare.”

Dare’s eyes narrowed. “Why?
Did I forget my breeches? Is my hat backwards? Shoes on the wrong
feet? What is it?” His eyes crinkled with unholy amusement.
“Perhaps I should fetch my eyepatch?”

“No, you wretched man, no.
We will depart now. Miles, come along,” ordered Bri firmly. Then,
with a gentleman on each arm, she left.

Jenny waited impatiently
for Bri’s party to arrive. She sat in the back of their box at the
opera and scanned the crowded house in case they had decided to sit
somewhere else. She was anxious to put her plan into action and she
didn’t mean to lose a single opportunity.

Her sister sat beside her,
watching her with concern. “Jenny, you look flushed. Are you
feeling quite the thing? Perhaps we should go.”

Jenny gave her an impatient
glance. “I am feeling fine. And you know how Mama loves the opera,
Gwen. We couldn’t leave now if Napoleon escaped again and
threatened to murder anyone who refused to leave.”

“Oh, don’t say such things,
Jenny! That man was horrible. And isn’t he dead anyway?”

“I don’t know, Gwen,” she
snapped. “Now, do be quiet. I’m looking for someone.”

Gwen’s eyes widened making
them appear bluer and more vibrant than usual. “You are? Who on
earth—”

They arrived at that
moment, cutting off Gwen’s question. Jenny blushed hotly as she
turned and her eyes collided with those of Darius Prestwich. His
held amusement and a determination that Jenny did not
understand.

He approached her after
greeting her mother and father, the Duke and Duchess of Denbigh.
She saw her father give him an intent look and prayed he’d not say
anything embarrassing. Her mother was everything that was gracious
and kind. Bri and Lady Greville were soon sitting next to the ducal
pair, chatting happily until the start of the opera.

Dare and Miles moved to pay
their respects to the twins. Their dark heads bent over the hands
of the Denbigh twins made a stunning contrast that was not lost
upon several audience members. Whispers started in one corner and
soon spread throughout the building.

After seating themselves,
each beside the lady of his choice, Dare turned to Jenny and said,
“May I say how lovely you are this evening?”

“Certainly,” she replied,
fluttering her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. “I do so love
compliments.”

Dare smiled slightly.
“Indeed? You seem to have forgotten to whom you speak.”

“Why do you say that,
sir?”

“It’s me, Jenny. Dare. You
do not have to play the empty-headed twit with me.”

Her expression became
something ludicrous in its dismay. “Oh, dear. And I seem to recall
you telling me you like stupid women.”

His eyes glinted
mischievously. “Are you trying to attract my attention,
Jenny-love?”

She gave him an arch look,
her insides quivering at the unexpected endearment. “How do I
answer that, Mr. Prestwich? If I say yes, I must be fast. And if I
say no, I am just rude.”

“What are you two
whispering about?” Miles queried suspiciously.

Jenny gave him her
brightest smile. “Just trifling things, I assure you, Miles. Your
brother has been delighting me with his wit.”

“Indeed?” Miles murmured,
giving his twin a searching glance.

Dare grinned. “Yes, Miles,
my wit. I have been known to have one or two upon
occasion.”

Jenny stifled a giggle
behind her fan. Her mother turned an admonitory glare on her, as
the music was about to start. Placing an expression of utmost
innocence on her pretty face, Jenny stared at the stage. Her lips
quirked when she felt Dare’s dark blue eyes on her.

She rapped him across the
knuckles with her fan. “Stop staring, sir, it’s rude.”

“Rude?” he whispered. “In
what way? I am merely enjoying the view.”

“Watch the stage, Darius
Prestwich,” she ordered, blushing in spite of her determination to
remain impassive and in control.

“I’d much rather watch
you,” he murmured, daringly taking her hand.

“I do believe you are
flirting with me,” she told him with a tiny smile tipping the
corners of her mouth.

“And if I am?” he
challenged, stroking his thumb over her palm.

Mesmerized by the patterns
he was creating in her palm, Jenny had to still the sudden beating
of her heart and the shiver of excitement that skittered along her
spine. Visions of his hand doing more than caressing her gloved
fingers stopped her lungs from drawing air.