The Heart of a Duke (11 page)

No! Absolutely not.

There would be no marriage. There would be no marriage because it would have to take place over Daniel’s dead body. And no one had killed him—yet. From now on, he would guard his back much more carefully, because he needed to survive. To live long enough to save Julia. And his father’s estates.

He had an agenda, and as a successful businessman and expert negotiator, he would not fail. To borrow his brother’s pompous edict, Edmund would be wise to learn that or suffer the consequences at his peril. The arrogant, tightfisted, sick bastard.

And on that, Daniel drank.

“D
AMN IT ALL.
You look bloody foxed.”

The resounding crash of the door had Daniel shooting to a sitting position and blinking at the bellowing voice. Robbie stood framed in the doorway, the candlelight from the hallway sconces flickering over him. Daniel pressed his hand to his throbbing temple and groaned. He needed to speak to the innkeeper about getting springs on the door. Better yet, he should have locked it.

Robbie strolled into the room, eyeing Daniel’s cognac-splattered jacket discarded on the bed. “Smell like it, too.” He scooped up Daniel’s neck cloth from the floor and tossed it next to the coat. “What the hell is wrong with you? You were to meet me at the pub over an hour ago. And you’ve started drinking without me. Bastard.” He lifted the bottle, and scrunched up his features. “Ah, good thing you have, this is not in my price range. Christ, who gets soused on Barker’s best cognac?”

“Barker?” Baffled, Daniel cleared his throat, for it was full of cotton. His head felt no better. An orchestra had taken up residence and was pounding out an off-key tune.

“The innkeeper,” Robbie supplied. He strode to the commode in the corner, lifted the pitcher, and poured a generous tumbler of water. Circling back to Daniel’s side, he shoved it at him. “Sober up and talk to dear old Robbie. Tell me all about the goddess Lady Julia and how beautiful and perfect and clever and splendid and . . . Oh wait, you already did that. All bloody week. This has to stop. You are—”

“Jesus, Robbie, stop yammering at me.” He snatched the proffered glass from Robbie, gulped half of it and slammed it on the table, wiping his mouth. “If you don’t have a guillotine on hand, go away. I already went a round with Edmund, not you, too.” His last words had Robbie snapping his mouth closed and straightening.

Savoring the silence, Daniel lurched to his feet and strode over to the commode. He leaned over its cavernous china bowl, lifted the pitcher, and poured the rest of the water over his head. Like a baptism, he needed to be cleansed. He sucked in a sharp breath and staggered back. “Blimey! That’s ice cold. Why the devil didn’t you warn me?” He shook his head, sending water droplets splattering, and snatched the towel off the nearby rack to dry his hair.

Robbie grunted. “Didn’t think you’d dump your thick head into it.” He walked over to the hearth and draped an elbow over the mantel. “Edmund came here?” he asked quietly, concerned.

Daniel jerked his head toward the empty bottle of cognac. “Do you really believe I would drop a fortune on Barker’s best?” He scowled. “Edmund impersonated me, and doubled my bill while making himself comfortable rifling through my possessions. Just like old bloody times.” He dragged a hand through his wet hair, shoving it off his forehead. With the towel draped around his neck, he returned to the leather chair and dropped into it.

“What did he want?” Robbie asked.

“What do you think? He wanted to plant his fist in my face. As I said, just like old times. Cain and Abel, that is us.”

“Are you . . . did he . . . ?”

Daniel’s eyes shot to Robbie’s and he frowned. Over the years, he had landed on Robbie’s doorstep bruised and battered too many times for Robbie’s family not to glean more than he’d wanted them to. “Verbal punches, Robbie. He cannot hurt me now. I am a runt no longer.” His voice was harsh, and he shifted in his seat, aggrieved the childhood taunt still drew blood a decade later. “It would be a fair fight. And we both know Edmund does not fight fair. Never did.”

“I take that to mean he would not listen to any of your plans for the estate?”

Daniel snorted. Lifting the tumbler of water, he sipped. “I never really believed he would. I just . . . well, for Julia’s sake, I felt I had . . . well . . .”

“I understand.” Robbie nodded. “So now what should we do?”

Irritation gripped Daniel. “What do you mean ‘what should we do’? I am going to stop Julia from marrying that bastard and save the estate, that is what I intend to do. Nothing has changed.”

“And how do you propose to do that? Edmund holds the title, and Julia is betrothed to him. That is a legally binding contract. Breaking it would be a serious breach and create a huge scandal. You have been in America too long. You forget, here titles are like the Holy Grail; they come with power and prestige. Bedford may be your brother, but he is a duke. Unless you are wearing a crown, it does not get more powerful than that.”

“Bloody hell, Robbie,” he groused. “Whose side are you on?”

Robbie held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I am on yours, but as you are a bit under the weather, I thought I would clarify some minor details. Point out the obstacles you need to consider, so you don’t trip over them.”

“Since when have you been one for details? You barely remember to store your riding equipment in the stables. Half of it litters your office.”

“Those items need to be fixed, or more orders placed for them,” Robbie protested.

“And jotting it down on a piece of paper will not suffice?”

Robbie narrowed his eyes. “Well, yes, I suppose it would. But when I am busy dodging nine hundred stone of enraged stallion bearing down on me, and I see he needs a new bridle, an inkwell and pen can be hard to find at that moment.”

“I understand your point,” Daniel conceded. Then he grinned. “But your office is still a mess.”

Robbie grunted. “No more so than this room. Look at this place.”

Puzzled, Daniel straightened and peered around. In addition to the disarray of his books and papers, the desk drawers as well as those in his bureau jutted out. His closet door stood ajar, and his valise lay on its side.

He abruptly shot to his feet and snatched his jacket from the bed. Shoving his hand in its pocket, he relaxed when his fingers closed over the letter from his father’s solicitor. He did not know what the devil Edmund was looking for, didn’t give a damn, but his finding the letter would toss a match onto an already smoldering confrontation. “The mess is compliments of Edmund.”

“Why?” Robbie looked baffled.

Daniel shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in his mind? I do not waste time bothering to decipher it.” He moved to his desk, shoved the letter into a book, and slammed it closed. “Probably thought I stole some tenant’s crockery,” he muttered.

“Do you have any idea of how you are going to accomplish these things? Saving the estate and Julia?” Robbie asked.

“As you said, there are obstacles. It has to be done delicately.” He shrugged, grinning at the understatement.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Please tell me that’s the brandy talking.”

Ignoring him, Daniel leaned back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “An idea came to me in regard to the fire. Mabry again mentioned problems with poachers, and it struck a chord with me. Do you remember Weasel?”

Weasel’s given name was Nate Corkery. He was a village boy whose nimble fingers and clever guile had earned him his nickname as the prince of poaching. Like the weasel, he trespassed at will and pinched coveted game. At Robbie’s curt nod, Daniel continued. “Mabry mentioned he disappeared immediately after the fire. Said he was spouting crazy talk about it. Any chance you can locate him?”

Robbie frowned. “I can try. But it has been a while. Might be hard.”

“Try. I have a feeling about this.”

“Your sixth sense working up?” Amusement laced Robbie’s words.

“Well, if Weasel did witness anything, it would be in someone’s best interest to brand him mad.”

“True,” Robbie nodded. “So what else is on your agenda that is obstacle free? Rebuilding Lakeview Manor?”

Daniel stilled at Robbie’s words.
Rebuilding Lakeview Manor
. He abruptly straightened. “That’s brilliant! Just brilliant.”

Robbie looked baffled. “Come again?”

“Let’s get that drink at the pub, for we are celebrating. You have just given me a splendid idea.”

“Fine, but you’re buying.”

Daniel warily eyed Robbie’s considerable size. “I will stick to cider to keep the bill down. And do you have a spare room at your place? This place is contaminated.”

“You can have my old office above the stables. As you know, the gear has been moved into the house.”

At Daniel’s expression, Robbie laughed. “I was jesting.”

“It was a poor one.” Daniel shook his head as he crossed to his closet for a change of clothes. He could not wait to share his plans with Julia . . .
Julia
. His smile faded and his arms felt heavy, as weighed down as his mood as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off.

One thing was certain. Julia was used to being in charge, or if not in charge, at least consulted. She would take umbrage at Edmund’s plans to abandon her in the country. She was used to being needed, not dismissed or forgotten.

Edmund’s pompous words had only confirmed that Julia deserved better than him. It was time she had a glimpse of what better looked like. Daniel intended to show her.

His mood improved, and he dressed quickly. If all went well, he was confident his Julia would choose ruination over Edmund. He would bet a crate of Barker’s vintage cognac on it.

“I recognize that look. You are thinking about her again,” Robbie complained. “I don’t want to hear it. Not one word. It is no surprise someone wanted to kill you, because I am having a devil of a time restraining myself.” He stomped to the door.

Daniel laughed as he collected his jacket. He paused and cursed, for damned if his brother had never returned Daniel’s room key.

J
ULIA
loosely gripped Constance’s reins as she wended her way through the wooded path leading to Lakeview Manor. She had received a note from Daniel asking her to meet him on the grounds. His message had coincided with another delivery. Recognizing the Bedford crest, she had eagerly slid open the elegant, cream-colored envelope. It contained an invitation to a dinner party Edmund was hosting the following evening at Bedford Hall.

She wondered if Edmund was squeezing her into his schedule in response to her spending time with Daniel. Guilt stabbed her at the uncharitable thought. It was not a competition. She was betrothed to Edmund, and he could not possibly be jealous of his own brother. After all, he had no idea of the two kisses they had shared.

In any case, that was a thing of the past. Over and forgotten. Well, not entirely forgotten. She was still working on that.

The point of the matter was that Edmund was home now. This could be the new beginning she had hoped to initiate that day when she had accosted Daniel, believing him to be Edmund. This is what she had yearned for. A chance to discuss their future. To discuss Bedford Hall.

She worried her lower lip, doubts assailing her, which was unsettling in itself for she rarely suffered uncertainty. She was a strong, competent woman. She blamed Edmund for making her feel otherwise, and she didn’t like it. Thus, Daniel’s enigmatic invitation was opportune. She needed a distraction, and his was timely.

Plans have changed.

If you have the time, please honor me with your company at Lakeview Manor at noon tomorrow.

Daniel.

Daniel had disappeared over the last few days, this invite the first she had heard from him. At least it was a request. Edmund’s tone was more a directive. Another difference between the brothers, and those were adding up. Directive or not, Daniel had her thoroughly intrigued, so she had no other recourse but to respond.

She rode without a chaperone. Julia chafed at the idea of a companion. This was the country, not London. Besides, Daniel was nearly family, and he had treated her with the utmost courtesy for weeks. She frowned, wondering why that should nettle her. It was what she had wanted, wasn’t it?

Her question hung unanswered, for she had emerged through a path of trees to see Lakeview Manor’s sweeping vista unfurl before her. She drew Constance to a stop and paused to wonder at the beehive of activity before her.

Men in overalls and work gloves swarmed over the grounds like a colony of ants. The scraping, clattering, and clunking noises produced by hoes, rakes, and shovels filled the air. In tandem, they worked to roll back the blanket of nature that carpeted the skeletal remains of the manor and grounds. They tugged, cropped, and swatted at tangled ferns, brambles, sticks, and other debris that had breathed life into the desolate scene, giving it its natural beauty.

More men, a few women, and clusters of children scampered along the banks of the lake. A fishing line carved a white streak into the sky blue backdrop as it arched over the wind-brushed water.

“You came. I was hoping you would.”

She turned to see Daniel stride forward with that easy, athletic gait. He wore a navy blue riding coat, brown breeches, and a pair of scuffed Hessian boots. His hair, minus his tall hat, was wind tousled, his linen cravat loosely tied, his cheeks flushed from the cool breeze. He looked more country squire than nobleman.

It often disarmed her to see this Edmund look-alike melding into the pastoral setting as if he belonged, while Edmund never had. Edmund rarely looked less than a duke, neat, polished, and poised to greet royalty.

“What do you think?”

“Impressive. Are we to be neighbors again?” she teased, but hope caught in her throat as she awaited his reply.

“We are.” He slid his hands around her waist, lifting her down. “I promised to keep an eye on you, didn’t I?” His finger flicked one of the flowers lining her bonnet.

“So you did.” She stepped back, putting distance between herself and his potent smile. “But as I said, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Besides, Edmund is home now. And . . .” She paused as Daniel’s smile vanished. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

He gave a curt nod. “I did.”

She waited for him to continue, but he remained annoyingly reticent, forcing her to fill the void. “I will miss the wild, rustic beauty of the place.” It reminded her of its owner. She blinked, the words almost escaping her.

“It is for a worthy sacrifice, for while I cannot sanction the apple mill or influence Edmund’s management, I can rebuild here. Doing so adds more work and alleviates some of the problem of the surplus laborers.”

“And hopefully separates the farmers from those whose talents are better served wielding hammer and ax,” she added.

“Hopefully,” Daniel agreed. “Pity I cannot rehire grand-mère’s cook. Her nougat almond cake and Bakewell Tarts could make royalty beg. I could always follow the mouthwatering smells home. It trumped Hamelin’s musical pipe. Those kids were never seen again. I, on the other hand, returned to feast on dessert biscuits and trifle.”

She smiled. “I do hope her magic seeped into the rest of the meal as well.”

“Haven’t a clue.”

She shook her head at the teasing light in his eyes. “You called this home. Was this more home to you than Bedford Hall?”

“Yes. Bedford Hall was Edmund’s. Lakeview Manor was mine.” Possessive pride laced his words.

“Is that why you left? Because you lost your home?”

He did not answer her at first, but when he did, his response was cryptic and he avoided her gaze. “I left because of the fire. After all, there wasn’t anything left for me here.”

It was as if he had closed a door, leaving her stranded on the opposite side. She believed he spoke the truth, just not the whole of it. Despite the sting of that, she kept her tone light. “Maybe next time when you leave, you will not stay away as long, because now you will have something to return home to.”

Immediately his expression transformed, his features softening, his gaze warm as it met hers. “Yes. It is always good to have something or someone to lure one home.”

She paused, quite sure he no longer referred to the house. Disconcerted, she waved a hand toward the lake. “Was this your idea as well? Opening the lake up to fishing?”

He nodded. “I don’t have apple trees, but I have a lake brimming with trout, perch, and whatever other fish swim in it. Due to last year’s poor harvest, they need the provisions. I had Mabry spread the word that the men can eat, sell, mount or fatten the cat with whatever they catch. I also provided them with supplies to do so. What do you think?”

“I think you have been busy.”

“I have. Shall we join them?”

“Fishing?”

He looked amused. “Well, it is too chilly to swim and you are not dressed appropriately. So yes, fishing.”

“Please tell me we are not at the mercy of your expertise for dinner, because I remember that you never caught a thing. Have you refined your technique in America?”

Daniel took umbrage at that. “I filled your bucket with all those minnows or shiners or whatever those things were. That is not nothing.”

“You netted those.” She nearly smiled. “And we could not eat them.”

“I beg to disagree. Your cat dined on them with nary a word of complaint. Besides, you always released the larger fish. Hated the idea of them being killed, so if we had been dependent on your talents for dinner, we would have fared no better.” He winked, turned, and strolled down to the lake.

He had her there. They made a pair. She fell into step beside him.

The manor was aptly named for the view of the lake, a two-hundred-acre expanse of shimmering glass mirroring the brilliant blue sky. Children scampered past, a few men tipped their hats in greeting, while the women gave shy smiles.

Two fishing rods were propped against a birch tree, a trowel on the ground beside them. Daniel knelt, used the trowel to scrape an area free of debris, and dug into the cleared patch of soil. His breeches tightened over his strong thighs, and his jacket stretched across his shoulders. A gust of wind blew a lock of hair over his forehead, and Julia swallowed. He rivaled the beauty of the vista before her. Rattled at the thought, she faced the lake. “Is this the change of plans you referred to in your note? Fishing?”

“No, this is a pleasurable side benefit.” After a few more minutes of digging, he stood. “Follow me.” He entered a path that cut through a thicket of bushes bordering the banks of the lake.

“Where are we going?” Curious, she fell into step behind him, but as they drifted farther away from the others, she wondered if this was a good idea.

He stopped at a private clearing and nodded to an overturned tree trunk edging the lake. “I had the men drag a seat over for us.” Withdrawing his linen handkerchief, he swept the rough-hewn bark clean. “After you, my lady.” He bowed and gestured for her to be seated.

Grinning at his gallantry, she stepped forward and gingerly lowered herself onto the trunk. She tucked the skirts of her riding habit around her, while Daniel flipped his coat tails out of the way and took his seat beside her. He then proceeded to efficiently bait both rods, handing her one.

The heat of his body seeped into hers, his muscular thigh mere inches from her own. She needed another distraction. “If this is simply an enjoyable diversion, what is the change of plans?”

He nodded to her fishing rod. “I did not bait these for nothing, did I?”

She lifted her rod, the grip of the ash wood well worn and smooth in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she cast over the lake.

“I spoke to Edmund, Julia. He visited me a few days ago.”

Her arm fell, fishing forgotten as her eyes eagerly sought his. “And?”

“Let us hope you have more success than I.” His expression was apologetic, but she noted his eyes had darkened and he avoided her gaze.

Something dropped inside of her. She feared it was her hopes. “He would not listen?”

“To
me
, Julia. He would not listen to
me
,” he clarified. “That just means we need a change of plans.”

“But . . . why? I do not understand. You are his brother. It was your home, too.” It was like a support beam had been stripped from beneath her, and she was caught off balance. It was another unfamiliar feeling, for she had never leaned on anyone before. Not that she was doing so with Daniel, but she did feel as if they had embarked on this venture together.

Don Quixote and his faithful squire.

“Most families are not like yours, Julia, and with nothing binding them but blood ties, well, they do not often hold. Unlike you and Emily, Edmund and I, we were never close. To be honest, I was the brother Edmund never wanted and would never care for. Edmund liked to remind me of it, which did not help foster brotherly devotion. For a while I tried, but then”—he shrugged—“I stopped. Edmund did not like me.
Does not
like me. I do not know why, but I stopped caring enough to discern his reasons.” The rustle of the breeze, the distant sounds of children and the workers filled the silence that followed his answer.

Shaken by his confidence, she opened her mouth to protest that they were
twins,
as if that should be a sacred bond, but closed it as she recalled Edmund’s disdain for Daniel. It was little wonder Daniel had kept his distance, that he had become the quiet shadow of a boy, a solitary figure who circled the lake or wandered the grounds at Lakeview Manor.

A stab of pain assailed her. She had believed Edmund had forbidden Daniel’s name to be uttered because he was angry over his desertion after their father’s death. Clearly his feelings ran much deeper. “I am sorry. That must have been lonely for you. I now understand why you left. You needed to begin again in America,” she ventured softly.

Seeing her distress, Daniel tapped his shoulder to hers. “I was not always lonely. I was at Dunbar Academy most of the time, where I met Brett. Edmund was at Eton, so I got expelled by choice.”

“Expelled by choice?”

“Yes. I had a choice to release the skunk into the head proctor’s room or not. The school was not big enough for Edmund and me together, so I decided one of us had to go. As Edmund did not appear to be leaving, it was to be me.”

Her hand covered her mouth. “No! You didn’t. I never knew what the reason was. I just remember your father was scandalized.”

Daniel shrugged. “He should have let me transfer schools when I requested it. In any case, I had Dunbar, Brett, and I spent my summers here, where a wild wood sprite often traipsed after me, getting me into trouble springing traps and rescuing drowned puppies.” He gave her shoulder another affectionate nudge.

She lifted her chin. “I found homes for all six of those puppies.”

“I have little doubt of that.” Daniel smiled.

After a span of companionable silence, she surprised herself by sharing her own confession. “I suppose I got expelled by choice as well.”

“You suppose?” he teased.

“I did not consider allowing a starving, mangy border collie to continue to run wild a choice. Not when I had a perfectly good room for him to lodge in and more than enough food to share. Or, I did once I pinched it from the dining hall.”