Page 42 of Redemption

“Apology accepted,” he said brusquely. As if aware he’d truly angered Percy, his nephew closed the distance between them. With a penitent expression, Jamie lowered his voice.

“I truly am sorry, Uncle Percy.” The softly spoken apology was heartfelt, and a wry smile curved Percy’s mouth as he tousled the boy’s hair.

“You come by that reckless streak naturally, Jamie.” He bobbed his head in Constance’s direction. “I think maybe it’s best if you make a dash for it or there will be the devil to pay.”

With a relieved smile, Jamie nodded his head and walked toward the door under his mother’s censorious look. Despite the look of disgust Imogene cast in her companion’s direction for his bad behavior, it was obvious the girl intended to offer Jamie moral support. The two children had reached the doorway when Jamie came to an abrupt halt. Imogene touched his arm as a look of trepidation crossed her somewhat plain features.

Slowly, Jamie turned around and his gaze focused on Rhea. The expression on his nephew’s face was one he’d seen before, and as Jamie fixed his gaze on Rhea, Percy’s heart sank. The last thing he wanted was for Rhea to be the recipient of a warning from the an dara sealladh without knowing the Rockwoods had the gift of sight.

“Miss Bennett, Timothy says you’re not to blame yourself for what happened. He says you did everything you could.”

“What?” Rhea’s voice was a strangled sound of horror and panic. How could you…”

Percy jerked his head in Rhea’s direction as her voice trailed off into silence. The vibration of dismay and concern flooded the room as Constance stared at her son in stunned horror. Percy’s gut twisted at the deathly pallor of Rhea’s skin and her expression of shock. Instinct drove him forward, but Patience had already moved quickly to join Rhea on the settee. As his sister took her hand in hers, Percy looked over his shoulder at Constance.

The helpless look on her face reminded him how the strength of Jamie’s abilities had always made his sister fear for her son. Lucien quickly moved to where his wife was standing. The earl murmured something, and Constance nodded then placed her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. By now, Jamie’s expression was one of deep remorse and a hint of fear.

Percy caught his sister’s gaze again and nodded toward his nephew then mouthed the words not to be angry with her son. She didn’t respond as she and Lucien urged the children out of the salon. As the four of them disappeared through the doorway, Percy moved around the couch to study Rhea’s features. Some of the color had returned to her face, but her confusion was evident as she looked at Patience.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered in a dazed manner. “How could he…Timothy died more than two years ago.”

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” Patience said softly and squeezed Rhea’s hand.

“I think the lass might feel better with a wee bit of fresh air, Percy.” His aunt’s words echoed with silent encouragement to explain the an dara sealladh to Rhea. The prospect wasn’t one he’d been ready to face just yet. Unfortunately, his nephew had unwittingly forced his hand.

“I think my aunt’s suggestion is a good one. Come,” he said quietly and extended his hand to Rhea. The moment her fingers slid across his palm, his jaw clenched at the icy feel of her hand. Like a lamb meekly following a shepherd, she rose to her feet and allowed him to gently guide her toward the door that led into the garden.

“Percy.” His sister-in-law, Helen, hurried to his side and offered him a plaid shawl. “It’s warm out, but Miss Bennett might find it chilly.”

With an abrupt nod he accepted the light-weight wrap and placed it over Rhea’s shoulders. Linking her arm in the crevice of his, Percy ushered Rhea out into the night air. As he closed the door behind them, he heard the quiet whispers of curiosity reverberating in the salon.

With the exception of the soft sounds from the street in front of the house, the garden was quiet. Rhea stumbled slightly, and he paused to give her the opportunity to regain her balance. When she’d steadied herself, he led her across the grass to the small alcove that contained a wrought-iron bench. They sat in silence for several moments before she turned her head to him.

“How did you know about Timothy?” she asked hoarsely. “And why would you tell young Lord Westbury about him?”

“I didn't tell Jamie anything, because I don't know who Timothy is,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I still don’t. However, I can surmise he was important to you.”

Rhea met his gaze for a long moment before she turned her head to stare out at the garden that had taken on a blackish purple hue in the early evening’s light. There was a forlorn air about her. Whoever Timothy was, he’d obviously meant a great deal to her. The thought shot a bolt of emotion through him that he was forced to recognize as jealousy. First Jamie, and now someone who was dead. He didn’t like the implications of the sensation.

“Who was he? Someone you loved?” The moment he asked the questions, Percy experienced a possessiveness for her that told him he was treading dangerous ground.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head and eyed him with distrust. “If you didn’t tell your nephew about Timothy, then who did?”

The immediate return to the original question said she wasn’t about to explain who this person was. Her stiff, controlled manner reminded him of the demeanor Sebastian had often exhibited before his brother had married Helen. He wondered if she realized how strong she was. Percy clenched his jaw as he struggled to find the words that would explain the special ability his family had—he had. In a violent motion, he shoved his hand through his hair. How in the hell was he supposed to explain his family’s clairvoyant abilities or his own for that matter? With a sigh he studied the shadows darkening the quiet garden.

“Well?” Her hand grasped his forearm until her fingers were biting down into his skin through his coat sleeve. The single word question and physical gesture were a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down in a demand that didn’t surprise him. Percy turned his head toward her as he tried to explain the unexplainable.

“My family has more than one trait we share. Our tendency toward reckless behavior is legendry among the Set, but there’s one talent several family members have that isn’t as well-known.”

Percy paused for a moment as he remembered the family’s reaction to Constance’s discrete readings for members of the nobility. To say Sebastian had been unhappy with the knowledge was an understatement. The patriarch of the family didn’t have the gift, and while he’d never dismissed the various predictions his siblings had made over the years, it had always been his preference not to discuss the issue outside the family.

He glanced down at Rhea’s hand pressing into his arm and drew in a deep breath then released it. Other than Jamie, he was the only male in the family to possess an intuitive nature. The Rockwood women were the ones who possessed the real ability in the family. His gift was a shadow of what his sisters and Aunt Matilda possessed. Percy gritted his teeth and steeled himself for what was to come.

“My family has the gift of sight.”

“I don’t understand.” Rhea studied him with a confused frown.

“The Gaelic word for it is the an dara sealladh. It’s run through the family for centuries. For those who possess the ability, they’re able to see bits and pieces of the past and future.” At his quiet explanation, Rhea jerked her hand away from him and shrank back into the opposite corner of the bench.