Regency 09 - Redemption (22 page)

Her father did not
disappoint her in his choice of residence. He provided her with a
quaint little cottage nearly fifteen miles away from her family
home. It was far enough that she could ignore them but close enough
that those in the vicinity could still feel the duke’s
power.

Jenny settled in quickly,
determined to make a life for herself and her baby. She hoped and
prayed her husband would one day return, even knowing that the
chances of such an occurrence were slim indeed.

Her father provided a
maid-of-all-work and a cook, plus a man to do the outside work and
any heavy lifting and such. The maid lived in while the cook and
manservant came for the day and went home to their own families at
night.

The maid, Lucy, was a
pleasant, youngish woman, much of an age with Jenny. A part of her
wondered if perhaps her father was trying to provide her with a
friend in the understanding, bubbly girl. But, as it wasn’t
important to her, she didn’t dwell on it overlong.

It also occurred to her
that Lucy was, in actuality, a spy for her father. She didn’t care.
Lucy could tell them whatever she chose to impart. It would not
change Jenny’s feelings toward her family and their
meddling.

Jenny filled her days with
sewing little infant garments for her baby, whose arrival was even
more anxiously awaited than before. Her days she could fill with
mindless, thoughtless activities.

That was simple.

But her nights…her nights
were spent regretting the loss of her husband and reliving the one
intimate encounter she’d had with him. What she wouldn’t give for
just one night in his arms!

She’d wake every morning
with tears dried on her face, miserably sad.

And her family avoided
her.

After the first few weeks
of refusing to see any of them, they stopped coming, only sending
the occasional note. She never read the notes unless they came from
her mother and even then, she never answered them.

Gwen had returned from
Scotland with her new husband and been accepted back into the
family fold. Even Miles, despite his having run off with the
precious Lady Guinevere Northwicke, was wholeheartedly accepted. It
was just one more thing to add to her already immense bitterness
towards her family.

She had no way of knowing
it was their conduct with Dare that made them more willing to
accept Miles, in spite of his actions—actions of which Jenny still
had no real knowledge.

It was with a great amount
of willpower that Jenny refused to see her twin when Gwen showed up
on her doorstep.

Things might have gone on
in this less than healthy vein for quite some time had not Jenny
received a surprise and wholly unexpected visitor.

She was due to have her
child sometime within the next month. She was ungainly, and so
large that she was positive she was carrying twins.

It would not be surprising,
she thought wryly, a sad twisting of her lips passing for a
smile.

She was walking in the
garden, enjoying the mild fall weather when she was alerted to the
sound of a horse approaching. She circled around the house to the
front door, her steps slow and ponderous.

She heard the visitor
dismount before she’d quite reached the front. When she finally
rounded the last corner, she looked up.

And gasped.

Dare?

A second,
closer look revealed that it wasn’t, in fact,
her
husband but her sister’s. Dare’s
eyes were just a shade darker, his hair a touch
longer.

And he was far handsomer, in
Jenny’s biased opinion.

Knowing she actually had it
in her to be quite rude to an unwelcome guest—she’d more than
proven that these past few months—she also knew there was no way
she could turn away her husband’s twin brother.

So, pasting on a determined
smile, she advanced, holding out one hand while holding her skirts
with the other.

“Miles, how lovely to see
you,” she lied.

Miles looked her over
carefully, as if searching for visible injuries. Finally, he met
her eyes. “You look radiant, Jenny,” he told her softly.

She released a rather
unladylike snort. “Nonsense. I am a cow and look as tired as I
feel.” Hoping rather perversely that he would decline, she asked,
“Would you care for tea?”

He accepted after another
drawn out moment of careful thought. Jenny reflected that Miles
hadn’t changed at all, even after doing something so unexpected
like eloping with her sister. He still made every decision only
after careful thought.

“How is Gwen?” she asked,
leading the way into the cottage.

“She would be much better
if you’d agree to see her,” was his acerbic reply.

Jenny turned, meeting
Miles’s eyes with both of her pale brows lifted in surprise.
Perhaps he had changed some after all. She was absurdly
pleased.

“I am rather…estranged from
my family, as you surely know,” she said in response.

“I can understand that,
having been filled in on some horrifying details before I was
pressed into coming to see you. I fail to see, however, how that
affects your relationship with your twin. She’d never hurt
you.”

Jenny gestured toward one
of the two comfortable armchairs in her quaint little sitting room.
She moved to the bellpull but Miles beat her there, giving it a tug
before helping her to her own seat, opposite his.

She smiled her thanks even
as she remarked, “I know she never meant to hurt me, Miles. And
part of me, despite how everything has turned out, is grateful that
she stole you from me. But another part of me can’t get past the
fact that I could be contentedly married to you instead of
miserably married to your brother.”

A moment of stunned silence
followed. “That was blunt,” her guest finally said, a bit woodenly.
“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

Jenny shrugged and would
have replied but Lucy walked in, bobbed a curtsy, and asked what
she could do. Jenny smiled with genuine affection at the maid and
ordered tea.

When she’d gone, Jenny
said, “It has all worked out for the best though.”

This time, it was Miles who
snorted. “That is highly debatable.”

Her smile wavered a bit.
“Perhaps it is,” she admitted readily. “It would be far better had
Dare stayed despite whatever my father told him to induce him to
leave.” A tear trembled on her lashes, but she wiped it away
briskly. “None of it matters anymore anyway. For all we know, he’s
dead.”

Her statement ended on a
rather strangled note and she had to duck her head to hide the
sudden welling in her eyes. She would not cry now. Not after so
many months…or weeks…very well, days without shedding a
tear.

Hours, rather, she thought
dejectedly.

Miles moved across the
room, knelt at her feet. She hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up
until he lifted her chin.

“He is not dead, Jenny. He
writes Adam faithfully every week.”

An inarticulate “Oh” was
all she managed to say to that little piece of information. “How is
he?” She tried not to sound too terribly interested but even her
child must have sensed her tension. A strong kick was her answer
from that quarter.

Miles must have felt it,
close as he was to her. His eyes widened and he smiled for the
first time since arriving.

Impulsively, Jenny took his
hand and placed it on her distended belly. She might not be able to
share this wonderful part of pregnancy with her husband but she
hoped he could at least experience some of it through the bond he
shared with his twin if nothing else.

Miles resisted the improper
gesture at first but then he relaxed and pressed his palm gently
against her stomach.

As they waited for the next
movement, he murmured, “He asks Adam and Bri about you.” A tiny
flutter under his palm coincided with her swift intake of breath.
He smiled sadly, glancing up at his sister-in-law. “He misses you
and constantly asks about his child.” Another flutter, stronger
this time. Miles almost thought the baby was reacting to his voice
if not his actual words.

Carefully meeting her eyes,
he demanded gently but firmly, “Answer a question for me, Jenny.”
She nodded, her hand still clasped over his on her belly. “If Dare
returned, would you accept him?”

Jenny’s quivering chin
heralded the onslaught of another bout of weeping. Nodding
emphatically, she whispered, “I accepted him long ago, Miles. I
would have told him at our wedding if he had but given me the
chance.”

The baby—or babies—settled
down, apparently having managed to wear itself out. Miles returned
to his seat, a thoughtful smile playing about his lips.

Jenny, painfully aware of
just how alike Miles and her husband were, stifled the urge to
demand Miles’s swift departure. It was most depressing to gaze at
the mirror image of the man with whom she was in love. Especially
when she grew more and more sure with each passing day that her
husband would not return.

Holding the incipient tears
firmly in abeyance, she asked, “Why did my family send you to me?”
Lifting the teapot, she poured some into two cups and, without
thinking, added a dollop of cream to one, handing it to her
guest.

Miles stared at her
blankly. Having had tea several times with Jenny and Gwen in the
months that he’d known them, he knew that Jenny was fully aware of
how he liked his tea—sugar, no cream.

Dare preferred his with
cream, no sugar…when whiskey wasn’t available, that is.

Miles wondered uneasily if
he might break down and cry himself before this visit was
over.

Jenny, after a moment of
protracted silence, met Miles’s eyes in confusion. He just sat
there, holding his teacup, glancing at it oddly. Then she realized
what she’d done.

Using the very last of her
reserve of strength, Jenny forced a laugh from her achingly tight
throat. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. Spooning sugar into her own tea,
she handed it across to him. “I am sorry, Miles. I wasn’t
thinking.” Her voice trailed away on a broken little sob and she
fell silent.

Miles shook his head.
“Please do not distress yourself, Jenny.” He paused, then set aside
the tea he held, leaning forward slightly. “I was sent to try to
convince you to relent towards your family,” he
admitted.

A lengthy pause followed in
which Jenny waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she asked,
“And why haven’t you?”

He sighed a little. “I
think a part of me is just as upset as you are. Dare, while having
behaved rather badly at first, should not be treated as if he is
dirt for the rest of his life.”

“I did wonder why you were
so readily accepted upon your return.”

“Denbigh admitted he was
wrong.”

Something inside Jenny
clenched. “He actually said that?” she managed to whisper around
the pain tightening around her heart.

Miles nodded. “Con did as
well.”

The tears could not longer
be held back. Jenny cried. And cried. And cried.

Miles watched helplessly,
not sure what he could do to help but knowing he should do
something.

In the end, he just waited
for her to compose herself.

Jenny did, finally, bring
her tears under control. She started to laugh then, odd, tearful
sort of sounds that bordered on the hysterical. Miles was confused
and alarmed by her behavior.

“Is that supposed to make
everything all right now?” she asked sharply, each word punctuated
by another choking sound of mirthless laughter. “Am I supposed to
skip back home now, content and at ease, because Daddy and Con
admitted they were wrong?” Her voice was approaching shrill but the
laughter had stopped, replaced by fury. “I have a problem with that
logic, Miles Prestwich. They may have been wrong, but I still have
NO HUSBAND!”

Miles rose and grasped her
by the arms, bringing her up to her feet. Giving her the tiniest of
shakes, he snapped angrily, “Actually, Jenny, no one assumed
anything. You’ve proven beyond doubt these months past that you
cannot forgive. Even the sister to whom you owe much.”