Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) (3 page)

Gwendolyn leaned against the squibs of her father’s coach, well aware of the lines of concern etched in her forehead for she now suffered from a throbbing tension headache. “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Papa? Was the ball too much for you?”

“Gwen, stop fussing!” Lachlan scolded her, straightening the pleats of his trousers before adding, “Please worry not. Being out amongst old friends tired me; that’s all. As you are well aware, my old body is not what it used to be.”

Gwen didn’t know how to respond as sorrow washed over her in a rush. She let him be, choosing
instead to stare out the carriage window, a lone tear tracing a path down her cheek.

Wiping it away with her gloved hand, she tried to push aside all of her sadness by concentrating on one happy memory from this evening’s events. In immediate response, a vision of Sebastian filled her mind causing her heart to leap with excitement. He looked dashing and for the first time in her life, she understood the full force of what fluttering feelings an attractive man could cause within a young lady’s heart.

During the brief time she’d spent with him, she had felt carefree. It was an emotion Gwen hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She needed that respite more than she ever imagined.

Gwen glanced at her father. Until tonight, she hadn’t realized what tiring work it was to spend every waking hour trying to please him, struggling to gain his acceptance and his love.

As she listened to the steady
clip-clop
of the horses’ hooves, she sank further in her seat and stared out the carriage window, still fighting the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overtake her.

Turning again, she studied her father’s profile. For so many years, she’d excused his callous behavior, believing it was from grief over his wife’s death. But, what if her brothers had been correct in their assessments about their father?

For the first time in her life, Gwen suspected that her father was keeping something from her. Had he truly already chosen her suitor as she feared?

A chill crept through her, causing Gwen to clutch her cape tighter. She sensed a storm brewing, one from which she couldn’t hide. If her brothers were correct about their father …

She shuddered at the possibility, convinced that it would destroy them.

Dear God, please protect my fragile family
.

Gwen awoke from a restless night shortly after sunrise. Without hesitation, she donned her black riding breeches and crisp shirt then pulled her hair back with an ivory, satin ribbon.

Bright sunshine streamed through the windows of the morning room where she found her twin brother, who had arrived around midnight.

“Good morning,” she spoke in a singsong voice before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Did I tell you last night how much I’ve missed you? It is quite boring without you.”

Tristan placed his newspaper upon the table. “I missed you too, Gwen.”

“It’s a perfect day for riding.” She squeezed his broad shoulders then reached for the newspaper he had just discarded, skimming the front page.

Her twin viewed her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep last night. Are you certain that you’re up for our ride?”

“Me, too tired to ride? Absolutely not.” She folded the newspaper and placed it on the table before straightening her shoulders, her expression one of self-confidence. “Perhaps you are afraid that I’ll best you?”

“Me, afraid?” he mocked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, “Absolutely not.”

Gwen gave her brother an impish smile. “Good. Then I’ll race you.”

She dashed into the hallway, sprinting out of the
house toward the stables, well aware that she had caught Tristan off guard and now possessed an undue advantage.

“That’s not fair,” her brother called out from behind her.

By the time Tristan finally exited the house, Gwen was well ahead of him. Despite his longer legs, he arrived last at the stables.

She leaned against the structure, waiting for him with her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot. “What took you so long?”

Tristan fought to fill his lungs with the fresh morning air. “I’ll have you know, that was not fair.”

“So you said though I beg to differ,” Gwen replied with a devilish smile. “We can race again, if you’d like – settle this dispute once and for all. Are you up for it?”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Her brother bent over, his arms resting on his hips, still recovering. “I’ll race you some other time. Something tells me I must train beforehand.”

She giggled. “Come along old man, Rory is preparing the horses. That will give you few minutes to catch your breath.”

“You really are a scamp, do you know that?” Tristan reached over and yanked the ribbon out of his sister’s hair, dangling it just above her reach.

“Give that back,” She stretched in an attempt to grab the ribbon and failed.

“This? You mean to say you can’t reach it?”

Though she and her brother were twins, they remained distinct in many ways. Of course there were differences in the law, a man’s rights versus a
woman’s lack thereof. Then there were the physical traits, such as the fact that her eyes were a golden brown while his were a rich mahogany. Another such trait was that Tristan measured six-foot and towered over his sister. Recognizing defeat when she saw it, Gwen stood in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Tristan,” she teased. “It has just dawned on me where I learned my wicked ways.”

Her brother clucked his tongue, “Touché.” He then rumpled her hair before handing her the piece of ribbon.

Their horses seemed to be as eager as brother and sister were to go riding on this particular morning. It truly was a beautiful day. Fluffy white clouds accentuated the vast bright blue sky as chirping birds soared, exercising their independence.

Gwen raced her brother to a hill that overlooked their family estate by using the same route they had taken as children. When they reached the top, they skillfully dismounted their horses before Tristan tied their reins around the centuries-old trunk of a leafy tree.

“Remember what we used to call this spot when we were younger?” he quizzed.

“Hidden Hill.” She grinned, kicking a fallen leaf with her boot. This had been their secret place, their refuge while in England. Unfortunately, they had no such escape in Scotland.

A horse whinnied, drawing Gwen’s attention away from her leaf. She watched as the magnificent animal bent his head before gnawing on the lush
grass that blanketed the earth.

Tristan’s tone turned boastful. “Father never knew this is where we spent our days.”

Gwen surveyed the grounds before them. Although familiar, it appeared much different through adult eyes. Their lives had changed so much since departing England.

Too much
.

She knelt then plucked a long blade of grass before shredding it with her fingernails.

“Are you all right?” Tristan asked, his dark brows furrowing in concern.

Gwen took great pains to sound cheerful. “I’m fine.”

“I know you better than that. You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Is that your veiled attempt at insinuating that I look dreadful?” Gwen did her best to appear affronted. “Some gentleman you are!”

Her brother shook his head. “You know me well enough to know that I am not deterred by an offhanded remark and lest you forget, I know you well enough to detect that something is indeed wrong.”

She squinted in the bright sunlight, her gaze spanning the thick, verdant lawns before them. “It’s being here, I suppose. This is where we spent so many happy years with Mama and Colin. I miss them more when I’m here.”

He studied her while Gwen intentionally avoided his gaze.

“There’s something else.” Tristan sat beside her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Gwen focused her attention on a butterfly with glorious yellow and black wings resting on a wildflower. It was a deliberate attempt to delay her inevitable confession since she knew precisely how Tristan would react to her news.

It was her brother’s turn to tap his foot, his impatience mounting with every moment of silence.

“As you know, Papa has been weak. He admitted to his impending death yesterday,” she admitted at last.

Tristan’s tone hardened. “You can’t listen to a thing that man says, Gwen. You know he doesn’t say or do anything without an ulterior motive.”

“I know no such thing.” Her tone was patient, as if she were speaking to a child. She couldn’t share her doubts with Tristan. Not yet. Not without a shred of proof.

“For heaven’s sake, Gwen, when will you open your eyes?”

An aggravated sigh escaped her lips. “Papa knew how you’d react. This is precisely why he doesn’t want me discussing this with you.”

“Discussing what?” he demanded.

Gwen steeled herself for yet another argument. “Father told me yesterday that it is his dying wish to see me wed.”

“I knew it!” Tristan’s mahogany eyes flashed with rage.

“It’s not his fault that his health is deteriorating, Tristan.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Papa can’t help being ill.”

Tristan took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Is there someone in your life I’m not
aware of?”

Gwen gaped at him, feeling as though she’d been boxed in the ears.

“Are you being courted, Gwen?” he insisted, his tone impatient.

“Of course not,” Gwen shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Why do you find that notion so inconceivable?” Tristan stared at her with great intensity.

She shredded another blade of grass, taking out her mounting discomfort on the lush lawn. “The best reason may be that no man has ever shown interest in me.”

“Did we attend the same ball last night?”

Gwen knew from her brother’s forceful tone that he wasn’t waiting for an answer, so she remained silent. He did not disappoint.

“When I arrived at the Stocktons’ ball, I was greeted by at least a half a dozen eligible bachelors asking about you.”

“They were curious.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Many haven’t seen me in ages and most have never met me. That always invites interest. It’s fleeting.”

“Dearest sister, you have much to learn about my gender.” He leaned back against the thick tree trunk as if his knowledge was vast. “How many offers to dance did you receive last night?”

Gwen paused in the process of mutilating another piece of grass while she pondered her brother’s question. She turned down most of her offers, except for Sebastian’s. Her heart sank as she
was reminded of what she missed with him.

Remembering that her brother wanted an answer, she fibbed. “Not many.”

Tristan arched his dark brow in challenge. She knew his expression all too well. He didn’t believe her, further heightening her frustration.

“I suppose you want the absolute truth?” She tossed yet another shredded blade of grass onto the ground then began to stack their remnants into a pile in a minute effort to create order from chaos.

Her brother’s gaze was unswerving. She could tell from the corner of her eye that his grin was one of irritating confidence.

“Fine. I probably received five offers to dance and since I know where you are leading me with all of these questions, I shall save us both from further aggravation and tell you that I didn’t dance with anyone.” Gwen flayed her arms in the air. “There. I danced with not a one.”

Tristan’s tone was gentle, calming. “Why not?”

Disarmed by his sudden tenderness, her expression softened. “You know why. I didn’t want to leave Papa.”

“Gwen,” Tristan took her hand in his. “He was well enough to attend the party and to stand there and reminisce with his old acquaintances. He sure as hell was healthy enough for you to dance with eligible men … had you accepted their offers.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Tristan raised his forefinger. “I’ll have you know that if Father wasn’t at your side the entire time protecting his little sheep, you would have received many more offers to dance.”

Her jaw dropped. It was the encouragement he needed.

“Father hasn’t allowed you to be a young woman, Gwen. You should have friends, dance at balls, and you should have had a proper coming out in London like the rest of those young ladies in that ballroom last night.”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t blame Papa for any of that and neither should you. It was difficult for him after Mama’s death.”

“It was difficult for all of us.” His voice was rich with emotion. “The difference is that you and I looked after each other while Father only cared about himself.”

Tristan glanced at his black stallion and watched as the animal scratched the earth with his hooves. “What else did Father say about his plans for your marriage? Does he have someone chosen for you?”

“Papa claims he hasn’t chosen anyone yet.”

“Thank God for that,” Tristan said, releasing a loud sigh of relief. He rubbed the knot of tension at the back of his neck. “Do you believe him?”

A heavy sigh was the only answer she could muster.

“What will you do if he has?” he asked.

His alarmed expression told Gwen that Tristan already suspected her response. “I’d have no choice but to marry the man he’s chosen for me.”