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Authors: Sheridan Jeane
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me why?”
Daniel clenched the glass as he remembered those first few months at Eton. The loneliness and abuse he’d endured had nearly broken him. He’d begun to believe everyone’s taunts. They were right about him. He was no good. Especially after the horrible things he’d done. They were unforgivable. How could he ever redeem himself?
The dogs of melancholy had nipped at his heels as they tried to chase him to ground. His depression must have been only a faint echo of what his father experienced on a daily basis, and it explained why the man had escaped into a bottle, eventually descending into madness. What if Daniel was destined for the same path? What if his regrets drove him mad as well?
As a path to salvation, he’d decided to lead a good life. A life above moral reproach. Stability and respectability would provide him with the lifelines he needed to stay connected to the world.
Wentworth strode toward him. “Your child will live his own life, and your influence won’t be as great as you believe. Each person’s nature shines through, whether he be a rebel, pirate, or prince. Do you think my parents planned on raising such a hothead?” he asked, taking a step back and gesturing toward himself in a broad sweeping motion. “You never knew my father, but passion was not in his nature. He was measured. Controlled. Even to the very end.” Wentworth paused at this, his gaze turning inward, as Daniel had noted it always did at the mention of his father. There was sorrow in his eyes, yes, but there was something more. Regret? Recrimination? Wentworth frowned and then shook himself, seeming to dispel whatever ghosts haunted him and focusing his gaze back on Daniel. “And you met my mother. She was a saint and had the patience and wisdom to prove it. I’m nothing like either of them. You act as though you believe you can relive your childhood through your son, but you have to face it, your childhood is gone. Even so, your experiences made you the man you are today. Find a woman who cares for the man you are , not the man she wants you to become. Have a contented life and a large family. That’s the only way you’ll ever find happiness.”
Daniel stared at his friend for a moment and then crossed to the fireplace where he rested his hand on the marble mantel and peered into the crackling flames. “Each person’s nature shines through, eh? That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He’d never confided his secret to anyone. Not even Wentworth. His friend had come from a close-knit family, the kind of family Daniel wanted for himself.
To balance his own shortcomings, his wife must be above reproach. He needed someone like Lydia’s mother, Lady Larchmont. He wanted to give his children the life he should have had, the life his parents should have given him instead of all but abandoning him. After his mother had died giving birth to him, his father had cocooned himself inside his own misery and self-loathing, never to emerge.
Of course, his mother needed no forgiveness.
And his father deserved none.
Daniel could never absolve the man of his neglect and selfish withdrawal from the world. The only acceptance he’d found as a child had been from their servants at home and among the thieves and pickpockets on the streets of Edinburgh.
He sipped the smoky-flavored whiskey. At least Wentworth hadn’t mentioned love. Even he realized how little Daniel wanted that emotion to be a part of his life. Even though his father had been a recluse, he hadn’t always been that way. The servants whispered that when the old lord’s wife died, his soul had died too. They explained every strange sound, every unexpected draft in his home, by saying that the ghost of Lady Huntley was wandering throughout the manse, restless and weeping for what had been lost.
Daniel shook his head with a jerk, trying to clear the unpleasant memories from his mind.
“I can’t be content with living on the fringes of society and never
Daniel clenched the glass as he remembered those first few months at Eton. The loneliness and abuse he’d endured had nearly broken him. He’d begun to believe everyone’s taunts. They were right about him. He was no good. Especially after the horrible things he’d done. They were unforgivable. How could he ever redeem himself?
The dogs of melancholy had nipped at his heels as they tried to chase him to ground. His depression must have been only a faint echo of what his father experienced on a daily basis, and it explained why the man had escaped into a bottle, eventually descending into madness. What if Daniel was destined for the same path? What if his regrets drove him mad as well?
As a path to salvation, he’d decided to lead a good life. A life above moral reproach. Stability and respectability would provide him with the lifelines he needed to stay connected to the world.
Wentworth strode toward him. “Your child will live his own life, and your influence won’t be as great as you believe. Each person’s nature shines through, whether he be a rebel, pirate, or prince. Do you think my parents planned on raising such a hothead?” he asked, taking a step back and gesturing toward himself in a broad sweeping motion. “You never knew my father, but passion was not in his nature. He was measured. Controlled. Even to the very end.” Wentworth paused at this, his gaze turning inward, as Daniel had noted it always did at the mention of his father. There was sorrow in his eyes, yes, but there was something more. Regret? Recrimination? Wentworth frowned and then shook himself, seeming to dispel whatever ghosts haunted him and focusing his gaze back on Daniel. “And you met my mother. She was a saint and had the patience and wisdom to prove it. I’m nothing like either of them. You act as though you believe you can relive your childhood through your son, but you have to face it, your childhood is gone. Even so, your experiences made you the man you are today. Find a woman who cares for the man you are , not the man she wants you to become. Have a contented life and a large family. That’s the only way you’ll ever find happiness.”
Daniel stared at his friend for a moment and then crossed to the fireplace where he rested his hand on the marble mantel and peered into the crackling flames. “Each person’s nature shines through, eh? That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He’d never confided his secret to anyone. Not even Wentworth. His friend had come from a close-knit family, the kind of family Daniel wanted for himself.
To balance his own shortcomings, his wife must be above reproach. He needed someone like Lydia’s mother, Lady Larchmont. He wanted to give his children the life he should have had, the life his parents should have given him instead of all but abandoning him. After his mother had died giving birth to him, his father had cocooned himself inside his own misery and self-loathing, never to emerge.
Of course, his mother needed no forgiveness.
And his father deserved none.
Daniel could never absolve the man of his neglect and selfish withdrawal from the world. The only acceptance he’d found as a child had been from their servants at home and among the thieves and pickpockets on the streets of Edinburgh.
He sipped the smoky-flavored whiskey. At least Wentworth hadn’t mentioned love. Even he realized how little Daniel wanted that emotion to be a part of his life. Even though his father had been a recluse, he hadn’t always been that way. The servants whispered that when the old lord’s wife died, his soul had died too. They explained every strange sound, every unexpected draft in his home, by saying that the ghost of Lady Huntley was wandering throughout the manse, restless and weeping for what had been lost.
Daniel shook his head with a jerk, trying to clear the unpleasant memories from his mind.
“I can’t be content with living on the fringes of society and never
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