Regency Romance: The Duke’s Ever Burning Passion (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance)

by Charlotte Stone

  But he still thought of seeing her in her nightgown, her hair plaited, the candle flickering. He had been cruel on purpose because she was so beautiful and if he was cruel, maybe he would not take her into his arms. In the end, cruelty had not kept that from happening. Their kiss haunted him. He could still feel his lips tingling, the touch of her hand against his chest. And her tears. She cried so rarely but he had made her cry. What had he been thinking?

  It did not matter. He had to focus on the mission with which his best friend had asked help. Jane told them all she could about their first “witness.” Apparently, it was her friend, John Christopherson, only a few years older than Jane, who had seen the figure on the Watson property the night of the fire. Since Jane had been very young at the time and John only a few years older, Shep had his doubts, but he would never want to dampen Ben’s passion to find the culprit. He also had to admit now, after getting to know Cat, he too wanted justice for her, however difficult it would be to find it.

  “Now, Ben,” Jane said with the dignity of a little governess, although soon she would be out in society with all the luxuries Ben’s position could afford. “You must be very kind to John. He is a little nervous to talk to you.”

  “Cat said you played together as children,” Ben said. “But that she encouraged you to be amongst other girls as you grew.”

  Jane had the grace to bite her lip and look down at the ground with some guilt. Shep knew Jane would never do anything untoward. That was not in her character. But as someone who had kept a secret for most of his life, he recognized when another person was doing it as well. He thought Jane might perhaps have feelings of more than friendship for John. But he would never reveal that to anyone. He would be the world’s biggest hypocrite.

  “He is my friend, Ben. Should we not speak just because he is a man and I am a young lady and we have reached a certain age? He has always been nothing but kind and funny with me. Did Shep and Julia stop speaking at a certain age?” she demanded to know.

  Shep winced since this example only proved his suspicions. Fortunately, the only person who saw it was Jane and neither of them could incriminate the other without incriminating themselves.

  “Your sister would say it is not proper,” Ben replied, trying to look as serious as Cat would in this instance.

  “She would,” Jane nodded in agreement. But then she looked up shyly at the man she considered to be a brother. “But did you always do what was proper?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to act as I did!” Ben exclaimed.

  “But comparatively, maintaining only a friendship with a man cannot be very bad, can it, Ben? I have heard all the stories about you, you know,” she retorted primly. “And I repeat, what about Shep and Julia?”

  “It is different with Shep and Julia,” Ben replied.

  “Why?” Jane asked curiously, her blue eyes round. “Because Shep is a duke and John is poor?”

  “No,” Ben sighed. “Shep was a part of the family. There were different circumstances. But I can see you will not be moved on this and as I am not your father nor your guardian, I will not push the issue. Besides, you seem to be very stubborn on this issue.”

  “I am,” Jane retorted hotly.

  “This must be Julia’s influence,” Shep muttered to himself, but apparently he was not very quiet since both Ben and Jane turned to him.

  Jane looked at him for a long moment. For some strange reason, he felt as if she could see into his soul. “Would that be so bad, Your Grace?”

  He asked her again to call him Shep, as she had earlier, and she nodded as they walked toward John’s home. It was small, a tenant’s house, and before they could knock, John came out the front door.

  “Excuse me, Lord Wembley, Your Grace, Miss Watson, but my father is…abed and it would be best if we spoke down the lane.” Bowing his head as soon as he saw them, he spoke quietly and with a great deal of respect in his voice. He was a tall boy, basically a man, with dark hair and strong shoulders. It appeared he did the lion’s share of the work on the small farm.

  “John,” Jane reprimanded. “There is no need to call me Miss Watson just because Ben and Shep are with me. They just want to know what you saw that night. They will not cause you any trouble. I would not allow it.”

  John nodded and looked at the men for their approval. He had taken off his cap upon seeing them and now folded it in his hands. “Anything I can do to help, Your Lordship, I will do. Catherine was always so kind to my family. When my mam died and my father… Well, she was very good to us when things were difficult. I will never forget that.”

  Benjamin nodded. He did not care that this boy, who was basically a man, was of a lower station, with a father who, from Cat’s account, was often in his cups. That did not bother him in the least. It made his heart a little lighter to see that John spoke with respect and kindness, knowing Jane’s attachment to the friendship. “What did you see that night?” Ben asked.

  John explained that he had been out that night after dark, trying to find the little kitten his mother had said he could keep. He had been intent on finding it, even though his father thought it was a lost cause and pushed it out the door after dinner. But he had been unable to stop thinking about the poor creature so he had disobeyed both of his parents and he had slipped from bed, going outside to look for the cat. He had been so scared that he might be caught because his father did not always sleep deeply.

  Once outside in the dark, he had wandered a bit, calling softly for the pet when he had come to the edge of the Watson’s property. There, he had seen the dark shape of a person slip into the barn. It had not been far from the house at all. When that person left, John had seen a light within the barn. He had been too young to know that the hay had been lit on fire. He had told his father, who had told him to mind his own business and was mad beyond belief that John was not in his bed, but by then, even from their window, they could see the Watson house in flames.

  “You do not know how guilty I feel that I didn’t stop it,” John concluded, his eyes on the ground.

  “John,” Jane said kindly. “You were a small boy, just seven years old. You had no idea what would happen. It was not your fault. No one blames you.”

  “She is right,” Ben added gruffly. “Cat made it clear to me that you had nothing to do with it, and I did not come here thinking that you did. But hearing you recount the story, it is even more clear to me, if that is possible, that it was not your fault. I hope you can let go of the guilt because you carry it when it is unnecessary.”

  John nodded, his shoulders slightly slumped.

  Ben asked more questions, trying to learn as much as he could from what John might have seen. But he had been seven at the time. John said he thought it had been a man, but that was only a general impression because of the darkness. When Ben took out some coin to pay him, John took a step back.

  “Oh no, Lord Wembley. I could never take money for this,” he stated humbly. “I would do anything I could to help Jane…Miss Watson’s family…after everything they have suffered.”

  “I know you run things mostly on your own here, with your brothers too young to help, and I know the situation with your father…” John looked embarrassed as Ben continued, “This could help them and you. Take it.”

  He shook his head. “Lord Wembley, it is true that things can be quite desperate here. And my pride would not keep me from taking it to feed my brothers. But not for this. I could never accept payment for this. It is the very least I can do. Please, my lord. I cannot.”

  After John went back inside, Shep could not help but remark, “Well, there is a man of honor…with the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

  “He is a man of honor,” Jane whispered. Ben and Shep shared a look when they noticed how Jane’s eyes followed the path John had taken back inside the tiny house. “I worry for him. It is not a good situation. But I do not know what I can do to help.”

  “I will talk to the tenants’ manager and see what I can do,�
� Ben said quietly. “But you know it is not your responsibility, Jane.”

  Jane whirled on Ben. “Responsibility has nothing to do with it!” she cried passionately.

  “That is what worries me,” he told the girl he considered his little sister gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I am trying to think of what Cat would say in this situation.”

  Shep guffawed at the thought that Ben could imitate Cat’s gentle but firm advice.

  “Despite what my friend considers to be my deficiencies, I must at least attempt to say something as Cat would,” Ben began, looking at Shep with a glimmer of humor. “I think she would tell you that you can be kind without giving your heart away.”

  “And I would tell her,” she began heatedly. “That I have given nothing away!” She then proceeded to flounce off in a fit of temper that reminded both Ben and Shep very much of Julia.

  Shep slapped Ben on the back. “God help you if you have daughters. I do not think you quite captured Cat’s grace in handling her sister.”

  “Yes, well,” Ben sniped. “I did not see you stepping in to help. Now, I shall have to talk to Cat and tell her Jane is half in love with that boy. He is a man, really. She will not be happy.”

  “I do not know if it needs to be said. Jane seems to know her boundaries. But then again, what do I know? Your wife is a much better resource,” Shep admitted.

  Everyone was rather quiet the rest of the day, as Shep and Julia continued to avoid each other. Cat and Ben seemed preoccupied with what had taken place earlier in the day. Or at least that was what Shep assumed. His assumption proved correct when later, after dinner, when it was just Shep and Ben enjoying their port, Ben had looked at his glass.

  He admitted, “Do you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do, no price I would pay if I could go back in time to save Cat from all that she suffered? If I could save her one moment of pain… I would give my life for that.”

  Shep was silent. There was nothing he could say. He knew Ben spoke the truth and all Shep could do was support him. But suddenly, as they inevitably always did, his thoughts shifted to Julia. He could not help but think of how Ben’s words pertained to Julia. He spent the rest of the night, tossing and turning as he tried to make a decision.

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  8

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  He wanted to deny it, but he could not. …

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  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Confessions

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  Days passed where Julia was able to avoid Shep, and she was glad of it. She had no idea what he was up to and for the first time since he arrived, she did not care. She had been humiliated in the library, not only to be caught with one of his letters, but to kiss him and to know that some part of her still responded to him.

  Their kiss had felt like something completely new, like puzzle pieces finally fitting together. But she could not afford to think of it at length. She wanted him gone, but she knew her brother would never ask him to leave and she could not explain to Ben why she was desperate to be rid of Shep. She would leave herself, but where could she go as a woman? Perhaps to the London house, but no one would allow her to travel alone. If she went without permission, and it galled her to even need permission in the first place, Shep would know that he had won. He would know that she thought of the kiss and that the kiss mattered.

  Her pride would not allow it. As usual, she felt stuck.

  Nighttime was worse than the day. She had not read any more of his letters, not when she could still feel his body against hers as they wrestled for a grip on the paper, not when she could still remember the sound of his incredulous acknowledgement that she had kept his words after all this time. She had even gone so far as to put the box of letters back in its hiding place beneath the bed. She promised herself that when the opportunity arose, she would destroy it completely.

  What had she been thinking to keep all those letters? Had he ever really meant any of the words he wrote?

  So she was able to avoid him for several days. She tried to return to the routine she’d kept to before he came to Pritchford Place. She took solace in George and the way he saw the world, discovering new things every day. Cat had been walking around with a secretive smile on her lips and Julia had a suspicion that she might be with child again, but she would let Cat announce it whenever was best for her. Despite Shep’s analysis of her character, Julia did, in fact, know when to keep her mouth shut.

  Now, in the nursery with George, having stolen the privilege of putting him down for a nap from Nanny, she rocked him as he snuggled into her chest. She loved George more than she had ever loved anyone or anything, in a pure and complete way. She knew that he would not be a baby forever, but she also knew there was nothing he could do, no mistake he could make, that would change how much she loved him. Briefly, she wondered if anyone had ever loved her that way.

  For a minute, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining what it would be like to have a man who loved her, to have someone to turn to in the night and hold on to, to bear his children and then to raise them, to rock them to sleep and kiss away their tears.

  Since she had been a young girl, she had wanted to be a wife and a mother, because she saw it as a way out, a way to finally have some type of voice in her life. But now she longed for the love and companionship of a husband she truly loved. She wanted children of her own to love and care for, not so that she could have power over them, but so that she could nurture them.

  “You are crying,” Shep said from the doorway as he watched her rock the sleeping baby. She had not been aware of his presence until he spoke nor of her own tears until he mentioned them.

  “I am not,” she lied. She would have wiped the tears from her own cheeks but her arms held George and she was helpless. She was also mortified, as this was the second time in a week that she had shed tears in front of him. She had promised herself she would never be weak in front of him and she had broken that promise. It could not go on like this.

  “You never cry,” Shep continued as he walked toward her. He told himself his soft tone was for the baby’s benefit, but truthfully, he wanted to give her tenderness too. It surprised him, this desire to just hold her and soothe her.

  She blinked, surprised by his tone. There was no teasing, no arrogance. She did not know how to react to him like this.

  “I never imagined you crying. But then again, I never imagined you wanting to rock a baby.”

  “Perhaps you do not know me as well as you thought,” she replied quietly, looking down at George’s blond hair. She was tired, exhausted from trying to be strong. And for what? To prove something to a man who long ago had cast her aside for unfair reasons? She did not have the will to pick up her emotional armor and frankly, though she knew she would regret it later, she did not care at this moment. “A man who loves me? A man whom I love? Children? A family? It is all I have ever really wanted, to belong to someone and have them belong to me.”

  “I never knew that about you,” he whispered as he turned to look out the window. How stupid he had been. When he considered how and why he ended things with her years ago, he could not imagine how badly he misunderstood her character nor how badly he had hurt her.

  “I am beginning to think you did not know me at all.” Once she would have made such a statement with anger or coldness. But she did not have the energy. It no longer angered her. It only made her sad to think of the young woman she had been when she had been so in love with him, so sure he was her future, certain he felt the same way. There was a time, even before the kiss that began it all, when she would have said the person who knew her best was Ben and the person who knew her second best was Shep. But that had never been true, had it?

  “I am sorry,” he began, but she quickly interrupted him.

  “Don’t.” This time her voice did cut. She could not take his apologies when she knew he still did
not understand the whole of what he was apologizing for. “Despite our usual treatment of one another, I know you to be a kind man. I do not want an apology out of kindness or out of pity. If you ever understood me at all, you would know that too. But you did not understand me, and none of it really matters anymore, does it? It was a long time ago. We think we have to have some sort of attachment…because of childhood? Because of what happened so many years ago? Perhaps it is time we just stopped trying.”

  “Jules…”

  She could not stand to hear the feelings in his voice. She knew he felt badly for the way he treated her in the library, but she could think of nothing she wanted less than an apology from him. She thought of the letters, and the words there, made with quill and ink. They had not meant anything. She was not sure she could trust that his apology meant anything either. “Yes, well.” She cleared her throat, hoping to shift the mood of the room. She could bear most things except for tenderness from him. “Now, I shall either marry the marquis or be a spinster who finds solace in her nieces or nephews. I think I might prefer the latter, but Mama would never stand for it.”

  “I thought you were your own woman,” he replied. She could not read his tone. It was not accusatory at all, which surprised her. Perhaps he had learned, like she had, that it was better to wear a mask than let people see one’s true feelings.

  “I am not allowed to be my own woman. That is a privilege only men can enjoy.” Her voice was not hostile or even bitter. She accepted that was the way of this world and hoped that someday it would be different. Moreover, she did not want to fight with him anymore. She was so tired of fighting everyone, Mama over marriage to marquis, Shep over the past, and around and around again.