“He is, yes. He has also never been recognized by his father. Not even as he lay dying.” It probably wouldn’t have mattered even if the duke had recognized any of his sons. The man possessed a cruel nature. His cousin and his brothers were better off this way.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Leonora said softly.
“Shocked?” Dare asked with a faint smile. “Does it bother you? His mother is my mother’s sister. She fell from grace after her affair with the duke became public.”
“Only slightly shocked. And completely unbothered. Your cousin is fortunate to have you as family.”
Her earlier question resurfaced, prompting him to ask, “Would it have mattered if he were her real son?”
“Of course it would.” Her eyes widened before she said hastily, “I mean, of course, it would not have. Why would it have mattered?”
Why indeed.
But Dare didn’t want to add to her troubles. He wanted to add to her smiles, her brightness, so he simply said, “You do not have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that, it’s just—” She paused, drawing in another deep breath. “It’s almost impossible to say.”
“Then don’t say it.” He wanted to know, was so damn curious the words nearly stuck in his throat, but he didn’t need to know. The latter was better in any case. Knowledge led to entanglements.
Those were never good.
He ignored the voice laughing inside his head, mocking his attempts to stay free from entanglements.
But what could be so devastatingly hard to speak aloud? What family secret could be so impossible to voice? Given Heart’s history, and that that it involved the duchess, as well as Leonora’s mother and her question about Drake...
Dare’s gaze fell on Leonora’s pinched lips. Her eyes were cast downward, her heart-shaped face so much like...
Almighty heaven.
Could it be?
Wasthisthe secret?
The duchess had left London twenty odd years ago and never returned until now. Apparently always wearing black. Mourning... who exactly? And then there was Leonora’s curiosity about the woman.
Did the duchess have a daughter?
Leonora?
Christ in Heaven. Her visit to him took on a whole new meaning, and he suddenly wished he could pluck the forming bud of suspicion from his mind. Leonora’s family secrets had nothing to do with him. He didn’t want to know them. He didn’t want to know any secrets, for that matter. He just wanted to livehis life without it intertwining with anyone else’s in away way that it could never againuntwine.
As if sensing his regard, she suddenly looked over, and their gazes locked. Usually, a smile or a question mark would enter at this point, but they remained cautious.
Assessing.
An odd sense of pain swelled inside him. He’d always felt Lady Leonora to be like the sun in the sky—beautiful, bright, and wholly out of reach. Too warm for a man like him to touch. He could only ever bask in the scant she rays allowed. To him, she was as unattainable as that fiery globe, offering a measure of light to men like him prone to walk in darkness.
Without her light . . .
He would stand in nothing but shadow. Who would have thought the sun had such a heavy burden to carry? A burden Dare wished to hell he could bear for her. A burden that could at any time cause this sun to lose its glow.
This secret she carried—he knew at once she carried it alone. Not because no one else in the family was privy, but because they wouldn’t have included her in the secret. If his suspicions were correct, he could understand why. But this clever temptress had discovered the truth anyway, and it had taken on a new form of burden. It was one he could never carry for her, but he longed to take it on if it meant she would smile again. Even just once.
No, he couldn’t carry her burden, but perhaps he could lighten its weight.
Entanglements, Dare. You’ll never be able to take this back.
Then so be it. For the only thing he wanted back this instant was her spark of light, the slight corner of her lips tilting up. Even the slightest measure of warmth would do. He would take any stray ray at this point. Not for him, but for her.
