The Heart of a Duke(40)

“Where are we going?” Curious, she fell into step behind him, but as they drifted farther away from the others, she wondered if this was a good idea.

He stopped at a private clearing and nodded to an overturned tree trunk edging the lake. “I had the men drag a seat over for us.” Withdrawing his linen handkerchief, he swept the rough-hewn bark clean. “After you, my lady.” He bowed and gestured for her to be seated.

Grinning at his gallantry, she stepped forward and gingerly lowered herself onto the trunk. She tucked the skirts of her riding habit around her, while Daniel flipped his coat tails out of the way and took his seat beside her. He then proceeded to efficiently bait both rods, handing her one.

The heat of his body seeped into hers, his muscular thigh mere inches from her own. She needed another distraction. “If this is simply an enjoyable diversion, what is the change of plans?”

He nodded to her fishing rod. “I did not bait these for nothing, did I?”

She lifted her rod, the grip of the ash wood well worn and smooth in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she cast over the lake.

“I spoke to Edmund, Julia. He visited me a few days ago.”

Her arm fell, fishing forgotten as her eyes eagerly sought his. “And?”

“Let us hope you have more success than I.” His expression was apologetic, but she noted his eyes had darkened and he avoided her gaze.

Something dropped inside of her. She feared it was her hopes. “He would not listen?”

“To me, Julia. He would not listen to me,” he clarified. “That just means we need a change of plans.”

“But . . . why? I do not understand. You are his brother. It was your home, too.” It was like a support beam had been stripped from beneath her, and she was caught off balance. It was another unfamiliar feeling, for she had never leaned on anyone before. Not that she was doing so with Daniel, but she did feel as if they had embarked on this venture together.

Don Quixote and his faithful squire.

“Most families are not like yours, Julia, and with nothing binding them but blood ties, well, they do not often hold. Unlike you and Emily, Edmund and I, we were never close. To be honest, I was the brother Edmund never wanted and would never care for. Edmund liked to remind me of it, which did not help foster brotherly devotion. For a while I tried, but then”—he shrugged—“I stopped. Edmund did not like me. Does not like me. I do not know why, but I stopped caring enough to discern his reasons.” The rustle of the breeze, the distant sounds of children and the workers filled the silence that followed his answer.

Shaken by his confidence, she opened her mouth to protest that they were twins, as if that should be a sacred bond, but closed it as she recalled Edmund’s disdain for Daniel. It was little wonder Daniel had kept his distance, that he had become the quiet shadow of a boy, a solitary figure who circled the lake or wandered the grounds at Lakeview Manor.

A stab of pain assailed her. She had believed Edmund had forbidden Daniel’s name to be uttered because he was angry over his desertion after their father’s death. Clearly his feelings ran much deeper. “I am sorry. That must have been lonely for you. I now understand why you left. You needed to begin again in America,” she ventured softly.

Seeing her distress, Daniel tapped his shoulder to hers. “I was not always lonely. I was at Dunbar Academy most of the time, where I met Brett. Edmund was at Eton, so I got expelled by choice.”

“Expelled by choice?”

“Yes. I had a choice to release the skunk into the head proctor’s room or not. The school was not big enough for Edmund and me together, so I decided one of us had to go. As Edmund did not appear to be leaving, it was to be me.”

Her hand covered her mouth. “No! You didn’t. I never knew what the reason was. I just remember your father was scandalized.”

Daniel shrugged. “He should have let me transfer schools when I requested it. In any case, I had Dunbar, Brett, and I spent my summers here, where a wild wood sprite often traipsed after me, getting me into trouble springing traps and rescuing drowned puppies.” He gave her shoulder another affectionate nudge.

She lifted her chin. “I found homes for all six of those puppies.”

“I have little doubt of that.” Daniel smiled.

After a span of companionable silence, she surprised herself by sharing her own confession. “I suppose I got expelled by choice as well.”

“You suppose?” he teased.

“I did not consider allowing a starving, mangy border collie to continue to run wild a choice. Not when I had a perfectly good room for him to lodge in and more than enough food to share. Or, I did once I pinched it from the dining hall.”