Undressed with the Marquess (Lost Lords of London #3) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,93

is it?” Kinsley asked at her side.

For a moment, she thought the always-direct young woman spoke of the exchange between Gwynn and Temperance, and she found herself briefly tongue-tied.

She followed the young lady’s stare to the forgotten stitchery. “It will be a blanket for Rose. For when . . .” Her throat closed up.

For too brief a time, she’d had the illusion of a family and the joy of knowing a child.

“For when she leaves,” Kinsley murmured.

Temperance managed a jerky nod.

“I shall miss her,” the other woman said, staring out as Dare and Rose chucked rocks into the river. “I feel badly about how I . . . reacted to that boy . . . Lionel.”

“You found a stranger in your house. Your reaction wasn’t unfounded.”

“You’re being entirely too forgiving. I’ve never seen anyone treat children . . . any children, with the kindness you and . . . he do.” He . . . as in Dare. The girl still couldn’t bring herself to fully speak his name. “I assumed it had something to do with my grandfather’s requirements for him.” The young woman nudged her chin in Dare’s direction. “I assumed his coming here today was because my grandfather wished for us to be seen out.”

Ah, so the young woman knew about the duke’s intentions and efforts. Just how much did she know? And for the bond she’d forged with the young woman these past days, there was a sliver of guilt at not having been up front in what was expected of all of them. Temperance carefully selected her words. “You are aware—”

Kinsley cut her off. “I know enough.” Plucking at the corner of the blanket, she stared on at Rose, toddling along the edge of the shore. “But he . . . isn’t quite doing anything to earn society’s approval or my attention.”

And because of that, he’d thrown the young woman’s thoughts of Dare as mercenary sibling into question.

“Dare was never one to do what was expected of him.” Which was likely why this task he’d been given was so very hard for him.

“It is interesting. He is my brother, and yet you speak of him as one who knows him, and I know . . . nothing about him.”

Kinsley fell silent for a long moment, and they sat in a companionable silence while Dare moved on to stone-hopping lessons. “There is a portrait,” Kinsley spoke haltingly. “Of my father and . . . him.”

Him.

As in Dare.

The brother whose name Kinsley could still not bring herself to say.

“He never did that with me,” she said, bitterness coating every syllable of that statement. “He rarely did anything with me or Perrin. All he cared about was seeing to his estates. He failed to see the children he had.” Kinsley was silent for several moments, and Temperance glanced over. The young woman watched on wistfully while Dare handed stones to Rose to hurl at the water. “Now, my brother, Perrin? He spent time with me like that. When I was invisible, he saw me. He played with me.” Kinsley’s face crumpled. “That is . . . was my real brother.”

And Temperance ached all over, from the inside out, with the suffering this family had known. How much damage had been done. How much damage could not be undone. Dare and Kinsley, the siblings who remained, were both hurting.

Temperance considered her words, and when she found them and at last spoke them, she did so with a gentle insistence. “Dare is your real brother, too—”

She’d not even finished when the other woman cut in. “No, he’s not.” Kinsley drew her knees up and wrapped her arms about them. “Perrin was my brother. He was my friend. He was my confidant. He was my champion. That man?” The young lady’s eyes went to where Dare now scoured the ground for pebbles and rocks for Rose. “Your husband? He is a stranger who sees me and sees the money he stands to earn by being my brother.” Her lips twisted in a macabre rendering of a smile.

Yes, there was truth to those intentions Dare had. And yet that was not all he was. Temperance didn’t believe Dare was blameless in the resentment his sister carried, but there were reasons to explain the barriers he kept up. “I met your brother when he was just fourteen and I was ten.” She was aware of Kinsley’s heightened focus on her face. “My”—her lips twisted with disdain—“father had me begging outside a scandalous club