The Heart of a Duke (20 page)

Her eyes flew open and she drew back with a gasp. “We must stop. This is not right. You are wounded . . . and . . . need to regain your strength.” She struggled to her feet, cinching her robe tightly together, her hands not quite steady.

“All the parts that need to work are perfectly healthy,” he muttered.

“You are trying to seduce me to make me forget our bargain. You need—”

“Of course I am,” he growled, lifting his hands to drag them down his face, grimacing at the swelling on his eye. Perhaps she was right. He was a bit of a mess. But he wouldn’t be for long. He spoke more calmly. “Fine. I will slow down, give us both more time. Just not too much of it.”

She frowned at the echo of his earlier warning. “I will return after I dress. I will have something brought to you to break your fast. Are you hungry?”

“I was, but not necessarily for food.” He couldn’t resist the trite quip.

She grinned. “Yes, well, knowing you, I am confident that you will not pass up hot scones, or anything else edible as long as I have the cook douse it in sugar or syrup.”

“Too true. It is my favorite dream of you.” Delighted, he admired the pink flush suffusing her cheeks, like rose wine filling a delicate glass.

“I have to go.” She whirled and practically ran to the door. She stopped, her hand on the knob, the other pressed flat on the doorframe, and spoke with her back to him. “I am glad you are all right.”

And then she was gone.

His smile was smug as he settled himself more comfortably into the pillows. Brett was right. Wooing a woman was much easier when you were safely ensconced in their house, and they were worried for you. He was not keen on Julia assisting him with his agenda, but recalling her clever mind and keen eye for detail, the idea held merit. He would let her help—as long as he could keep her safe. If not, all bargains were off.

Because she was his destiny and he had every intention of claiming her.

D
ANIEL
lasted one day bedridden and housebound. Julia was not surprised, for a man with such a thick hide, she had little expectation that something as trifling as a knife wound and savage beating would keep him down.

The one day he did rest, he was visited by Brett, Robbie, her father, Emily, and a fascinated Jonathan. The endless parade of guests provided buffers between Daniel and her, giving him no time to fulfill his agreement to her. But she was not deterred.

After their kiss, he owed her explanations. Not that the kiss was a hardship. In fact, for a man adept at negotiations, she wondered why he did not ask for something more . . .

She paused as she headed to the dining room. What more was she willing to give him?

Everything.

Shocked, she gave her head a sharp shake to clear it. They were not ready for
everything
quite yet. Far from it.

Things could go no further until she knew what Daniel was confronting. Until she had decided whether to heed Brett Curtis’s advice and encourage Daniel to go home, or to honor Daniel’s wishes and assist him in resolving this mystery.
Until he trusted in her. Until he confided in her. Until he said he loved her.

More important than her need to hear those words was the gnawing, inexorable fear, like a tide she could not push back, that Daniel’s life was at stake. Whatever her feelings, his life was not something she was willing to risk losing.

She was coming to value it more than her own.

Drawing herself up, she continued to the dining room with renewed purpose. She would simply have to determine the best manner in which to save his arrogant, thick hide. For she had plans for it.

Considering Daniel’s restlessness, it did not surprise her to find him seated at the dining room table breaking his fast. What surprised her was that in addition to the usual serving of bacon, eggs, ham, and assorted scones and rolls, there was a large china platter of treacle tarts. Their mouthwatering aroma of warm breadcrumbs, treacle, and lemon filling drifted to her.

She could just imagine how Daniel had wheedled Cook into serving dessert so early in the morning. Who could resist the man? Brett had brought over his belongings yesterday, and Daniel had shaved and bathed, and was impeccably groomed in a gray waistcoat and navy blue jacket. His white cravat was in sharp contrast to his skin, sun-bronzed from days spent outdoors. The swelling in his eye and cheek had receded, and the purple-and-blue-colored bruises highlighted those sharp green eyes.

Julia was not unaffected by his appearance, and she had to recompose herself. It was not every morning a woman awoke to a stunning specimen of masculine beauty greeting her.

“Julia, are you going to stand poised like a statue or do you plan to dine?”

Only then did she realize Daniel was not alone. Joining him at the table were her father and Jonathan. Three pairs of eyes were focused on her, but she only noticed the green set brimming with amusement.

Daniel rose to his feet, and inclined his head in greeting. “I think she makes a rather fetching statue, reminds me of Botticelli’s Venus.”

“Hmph.” Her father gave that opinion on the matter as he rose to his feet. His attention snapped to Jonathan, who was climbing to his knees and reaching for the tray of tarts, his face smeared with lemon juice. Her father deftly lifted the tray out of reach. “Why don’t we leave some for your sisters?”

Jonathan scowled. “Cor, Emily is having a lying in, and Julia always shares her treats with me.”

“She can do so later in the morning, for you have had your share.”

“Bryant said one can never have enough treats, and why should they be reserved for after dinner?” Jonathan protested, a pout on his face.

“So he did. Your belly might voice another opinion if you continue in this vein. Please excuse yourself, clean up the food you have chosen to wear rather than eat, and then meet me in my study.”

“But Lord Bryant promised to teach me sword fighting. So I can skewer the good-for-nothing, dirty-rotten, green-eyed Cyclops who pounced on him at the docks.”

“Another time. Lord Bryant has an appointment this morning. And we have plans to visit the British Museum today.”

“Don’t worry, Jonathan. If we cannot skewer the Cyclops, I’ll have Robbie sit on him.” Daniel winked at her brother.

Jonathan snorted his delight, but at his father’s look, he scampered off.

“Cyclops? Venus?” Her father arched a brow as he returned the platter of tarts to the table. “You appear to be a veritable font of mythology this morning.”

“A Cyclops makes a far more interesting villain than everyday dock ruffians.”

“Point taken,” her father mused. “Mr. Curtis and Robbie have been speaking to the authorities about these Cyclopes who waylaid you. Do you think they will be able to learn anything?”

Daniel’s smile faded. “I don’t know. The city is teeming with such miscreants, but also for a price, there is a wealth of informers, willing to squeal on their brethren in crime. While I am offering to pay that price, it might take a while before we learn anything.”

Her father nodded. “I suppose until then, there is little we can do but avoid the docks and watch your back. I do hope you will do so.” He gave Daniel a deliberate look. “If you will excuse me, I have some work to complete in my office, and I will leave you to your dessert to break the fast.”

Julia, who had followed Jonathan’s exodus to assist him with cleaning his face, waited for her father to leave the room before she ventured forward, wary when Daniel circled the table to draw her chair out for her. After he returned to his seat, she spoke. “Speaking of bribery, dessert to break the fast is unprecedented. What did you promise Cook?” She leaned forward to help herself to some coddled eggs, toast, and a slice of ham.

Daniel took umbrage. “No bribery. However, I might have taken advantage of Cook and Petie’s battle for supremacy.” A teasing light entered his eyes. “Once Petie declared oats porridge best for my recovery, Cook was delighted to thwart her. I might have mentioned that the Prince Regent himself broke the fast with them. And as he is now King of England, clearly no harm was done.”

“So Cook determines if it is good enough for royalty, it is good enough for Keaton House.” She laughed.

“Exactly. So here I am, breaking the fast with treacle tarts and my very own Venus.”

“If you have not noticed, I am fully clothed, while Botticelli’s Venus is not,” she pointed out, compelled to bring that pertinent detail to his attention.

“Sadly true, but I have no doubt that if you emerged naked from a shell with your hair blowing untamed in the wind, you would be absolutely stunning. I would be begging for brush and canvas. In fact, next to you coated in sugar and icing, it is my new fondest dream.”

Julia paused in lifting her napkin to wipe her mouth, Daniel’s perusal stripping her as naked as Botticelli’s Venus. His words stole her voice, but she quickly recovered and shot him a quelling look. “Please, stop. Someone might overhear you.”

“You are not a morning person? Prefer being seduced at early evening? Dusk more your preference?” At her blank look, he simply laughed, picked up a treacle tart, and leaned across the table to speak more intimately. “The dessert reminds me of you—tart, but sweet.” He flashed her a devilish grin, lifted the slice to his mouth, and bit into it.

There was something about a handsome man with a smudge of treacle on his mouth. It was boyishly endearing. When his tongue darted out, she stilled. She couldn’t tear her gaze away as he slowly and deliberately licked his lips clean. At the sinfully erotic display, desire shot through her. Her body tilted forward, like a leaning mast, and she yearned to lick the sticky remnants from those sensuous lips, to run her tongue over them and taste the sweet flavor of the golden treacle filling. And Daniel.

Appalled, she straightened.

Her breathing quickened, her heart skipped erratically, for his eyes were heavy-lidded and fixed on her mouth. Suddenly aware hers gaped open like a gutted fish, she snapped it closed and dropped her eyes to her plate, her mortification complete.

This would not do. Daniel was like a strong current, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to places she was not ready to go. He was strong, forceful, and incredibly hard to resist.

The clanking of the front knocker rescued her. She jumped as the noise shattered the awareness that pulsed between them, brimming with unfilled desire and unspoken yearnings.

She was grateful for the distraction when Burke escorted Robbie and Brett into the dining room.

After the initial greetings were made, Robbie settled into the chair beside Daniel and leaned forward. “Is that treacle tart?”

“It is and you are welcome to a few as long you leave a portion for the rest of us,” Daniel said, warily eyeing Robbie’s mammoth frame.

Robbie huffed out a breath and helped himself to a plate and a generous serving.

Brett shuddered. “How can you eat that so early in the morning?”

“With little difficulty. Watch closely,” Robbie said, and half the tart disappeared into his mouth.

Brett shook his head. “I fear an early demise for you both.”

Julia inhaled sharply and noticed Daniel’s foot connecting with Brett’s shin beneath the table.

“Ow, what?” Brett sputtered, but at Daniel’s warning glance, he hastened to amend his words. “My apologies, poor choice of expression. With your quick feet and hard skin, you will live to a ripe old age. Fat, happy, with a waddle for a walk. An elephant with a top hat.”

“As long as I am not alone, like you undoubtedly will be due to your pathetic wit, I look forward to it.” He narrowed his eyes at Brett, but as he finished his sentence, his gaze homed in on Julia, and she shifted in her seat.

“Speaking of longevity, I think it is time we discussed yours more seriously,” Julia interceded.

Robbie paused, his hand halfway to his mouth.

“Lady Julia is going to assist us with our investigation. We made a deal. I promised to update her on everything and include her on events moving forward.” His gaze met hers, and she braced herself when a devilish glint lit his eyes. “In return, if I survive, she promises to accept my hand in marriage.”

“I made no such promise,” Julia gasped, appalled that he would air their private discussion before Brett and Robbie. “I said I would
consider
your proposal.”

Daniel grinned, unrepentant. “Fine. She promised to
consider
it. So, gentlemen, I have a vested interest in surviving.”

“I suggest you cut back on desserts for breakfast, then,” Brett said dryly.

Daniel appeared to give serious consideration to the suggestion, and then shook his head. “No. In fact, I should consume more to provide additional padding that—”

“Better yet, if you had stayed in Boston, where—”

“Gentlemen, please, this is not productive,” Julia again intervened, wondering how the two managed a company together. With their matching black eyes, they looked more like wayward pirates than successful men of trade. “Let’s start at the beginning, and tell me what you know. Then let us proceed from there.”

She sat back and waited as all three men scowled. After a prolonged silence, Daniel blew out a breath and began to tell her a story with seeds planted over a decade ago.

When he had finished, she marveled that Daniel had survived. She kept her voice steady, despite her racing pulse. “You definitely heard men yelling before the fire? But you did not see anyone?”

“I did. It is what saved me. And no, they were gone by the time I escaped.”

“I talked with the Bow Street Runners to see if they could find out anything about the attack at the docks. An agent is going to come by to get a statement from you,” Brett said, nodding toward Daniel. “While I was doing that, Robbie visited a few of the gambling hells in the city, looking for Weasel, who hopefully has information about the fire.”

“Right,” Robbie added, laying his napkin on the table and leaning back in his chair, settling his large frame in more comfortably. “I also hired a few thief-takers, who might be able to glean more information than the Runners.” Robbie shrugged. “Worth a few quid if they turn up something.”

“We cannot make any connections between the searches and these attempts on your life?” Julia said.

The men exchanged glances, and it was Brett who responded. “Not yet, but I think—”

“Bedford has nothing to gain by my death.” Daniel cut him off again, his eyes hard.

“Why the devil do you defend him? He would love to see you six feet under. He abused you for years and—”

Daniel slammed his hand on the table, silencing Brett. “Enough. Until we have cause, we have nothing.”

Brett snapped his mouth closed and leaned back in his chair, seething. “Fine, but my bet is on Bedford.”

“Why don’t we consider who does have something to gain from your death, if as you say, Edmund doesn’t. Who inherits if something happens to you, Daniel?” Julia asked, changing the topic.

Daniel’s eyes widened at Julia, and his smile broke out again. “Isn’t she magnificent? Didn’t I tell you? Beautiful
and
brilliant. You have to marry me. You are—”