Page 7 of The Hired Hero
“Helen,” he repeated quietly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
The widowed countess struggled to regain her composure. “Lud, what an utter fool I was, Julian.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“How could I have been so blind?” She swallowed hard. “And how can you have ever forgiven me?”
“It was a long time ago,” he said gently. “And we all know how charming Charles could be when he so chose.”
She shook her head. “How can two people so alike on the outside be so different on the inside?”
Davenport ran a finger along the thin white line of puckered flesh that marred his cheekbone. “Ah,” he said, his voice tinged with self-mockery. “Not alike—I’m the twin with the scar.”
Lady Helen regarded him with a look of great sorrow, along with a flicker of inscrutable emotion.
He turned to look out the diamond-paned glass windows.
She continued to stare at his back. “What about you, Julian? I know that Charles mortgaged the estate to the hilt and gambled away any money that your father hadn’t already lost.”
“I shall manage.”
A sigh escaped her lips as she went to stand beside him. “A storm looks to be blowing in.” She rose and moved to stand by his side. “I’ll take my leave so that I may return to my uncle’s before the rain begins.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stood on tiptoes to brush a kiss on his cheek.
“Would that the hands of time could be turned back,” she whispered.
He shook his head bleakly. “That, I fear, is beyond the power of any mortal.”
Helen smiled sadly and looked as if to say more. Then her lips pressed together, and after a moment’s hesitation, she simply sighed.
“Goodbye, Julian. I wish you all the happiness you deserve.” Without waiting for a response, she hurried from the room.
“Happiness?” whispered Davenport, after the door clicked shut. “I fear that is also beyond my power.”
Then he poured himself another brandy.Would that the spirits could wash away the bitter taste that stuck in his throat, no matter how much of the amber liquid he poured into himself.
But alas, it brought only oblivion, not sweet relief from the sea of demands that washed over him. The earl was heartily sick of it—sick of feeling that slowly, inexorably, he was losing a little piece of himself with every crashing wave.
With a grimace, Davenport realized that he could hardly remember how it had all started. When had his mother first importuned him to have a care for his twin, to try to temper the high spirits of the heir and guard both him and the family name from harm? The earl thought for a moment. He and his brother could not have been more than ten or twelve years old, but even then, Charles had been irresistibly charming…while he had been painfully dull.
And dim-witted as well, to allow himself to become his brother’s keeper.
From then on, the pattern had been set. Charles had become increasingly wild, while he had been left to quietly make amends for his sibling’s excesses…
Or take the blame himself. Sometimes it had just been easier that way.
It had made his father laugh and his mother cry. He supposed it was the anguished look in her eyes that had kept him from shirking the unfair responsibilities. She had cared about the family’s honor, and the concept of right and wrong.
His own principles must have come from her side of the family, for as much as he had wished to, Davenport had found that he couldn’t simply walk away.
And that had just been the beginning…
Much as his mind rebelled against it, Davenport forced himself to think about Helen. Charles had not been content with merely stealing his brother’s good name—he had found it amusing to take the woman he loved as well.
Closing his eyes for an instant, the earl drained his glass in one quick swallow.
Charming Charles.
His brother had been free and easy with his charm, while he had been shy and awkward. How could he blame a lovely young lady for being seduced by well-turned phrases and elegant manners?
