The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  Daniel removed a pair of stirrups from a chair and brushed it clean before lifting his jacket and daring to sit.

  Circling his desk, Robbie leaned over and fiddled with the lock on a drawer. Rummaging inside, he withdrew a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

  He quirked a brow as Robbie generously filled the glasses.

  He handed Daniel his, raising his own in a toast. “To the return of a long lost friend. May he be forever found.”

  Daniel paused in lifting his drink, staring at Robbie, who drained his glass in one fluid swallow.

  Wiping his mouth with his hand, Robbie grunted. “Can’t understand why neither of my brothers allowed me to toast them at their wedding.”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” He commented dryly, struggling to keep his expression blank as he savored his whiskey at a slower pace.

  “Now then,” Robbie said, dropping into his desk chair, leaning back, and studying him. “While I am delighted to be toasting your return, I have to ask, were you so busy running your company that you couldn’t let me know you were returning for a visit? You might think mills, timber, and transatlantic shipping routes make for edifying reading, but if you were planning a trip home, you might have saved my eyes from glazing over. You could have caught me up in person.”

  His lips twitched at Robbie’s cavalier dismissal of his now-prosperous company, Curtis Shipping. He had launched the enterprise with an American friend, Brett Curtis, well over eight years ago. However, news of the company filled the London financial pages as the firm recently expanded its ports from London into Bristol and Liverpool. Brett had accompanied Daniel on this voyage to visit their London office and oversee the expansion. “My apologies that the last ten years of my life made for such dull reading. Next time I’ll add salacious details.”

  “Now those letters I would have finished!” Robbie grinned, unrepentant.

  He laughed. “Truth be told, I was a bit buried in work, so your reading material would have been slim to none.”

  “My favorite kind. Listen to you. You sound like a tradesman or an American. Don’t know what your aristocratic peers will make of you now.”

  Daniel stiffened. “I don’t give a damn for their opinions.”

  “Now you’re sounding like yourself.” Robbie beamed, delighted. “So what brings you home? When you left England, you vowed never to return.”

  He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, withdrew the enigmatic missive from the solicitor, and tossed it onto Robbie’s desk. “This planted the seed.”

  Robbie eyed the note curiously before reading.

  Daniel sprang to his feet, too restless to sit. He sipped his whiskey and paced the confines of the office, careful to avoid the debris littering the floor.

  “Why wasn’t this addressed to Bedford? Shouldn’t your father’s solicitor be contacting him?” Robbie furrowed his brow.

  “He probably wrote to both of us.” He shrugged.

  “What destiny are you to claim?” Robbie held up the letter to the ribbon of light streaming through the window. He scrunched up his features and examined the paper as if the light would magically illuminate the answers he sought.

  “That’s not relevant. It is the first line that brought me back.”

  Robbie looked at the note, then at him, frowning. “It is time?”

  “Exactly.” He stopped before Robbie’s desk and brandished his glass at him, excitement lacing his words. “It is time. Ten years ago, I left with nothing but the clothes on my back and a paltry savings. I lost everything when Lakeview Manor burned to the ground. Well, it is time. Time to get it all back. Time I rebuild what’s mine. What I lost.” His voice lowered. “What we both know was stolen from me.”

  “You are going to rebuild Lakeview Manor?”

  “I am.” He nodded. “A decade ago, I did not have the resolve or the capital to succeed. To rebuild as I wanted or needed to. But today I can, thanks to Curtis Shipping.”

  Robbie set the letter down and quietly assessed him. “You do remember why you left?”

  He paused, the silence echoing between them as the years fell away. Orange flames and a thick, suffocating wall of gray smoke flashed before him. Escaping the fire, Daniel had sought refuge at the Tanners’, where he had been given the care he never would have received at Bedford Hall. After the reading of his father’s will a fortnight before, Edmund had kicked Daniel out of the house and was busy drowning himself in drink. Sober, Edmund would have lamented Daniel’s survival rather than his burned flesh.

  As Daniel healed, stories had circulated that the curtains had caught fire, and thanks had been given that the house had stood empty. Daniel hadn’t bothered to correct the misinformation. Having lost all he had ever cared about, he hadn’t given a damn, and had eventually sailed to America with Brett, never looking back. Until now.

  He shook off the old nightmare and lifted his chin. “I do.”

  “For God’s sake, Daniel.” Robbie leaned forward, his tone heated, his eyes hard. “Someone tried to kill you. They burned your house to the ground with you in it. You barely made it out alive.”

  “I am well aware of that.” He kept his voice level, despite his strained patience. “I am the one carrying the scars, so you can be sure I will not ever forget.”

  “What makes you think that whoever wanted you dead isn’t around to finish the job today?”

  “It’s another reason I have returned. It is time to catch the bastard. To get justice.”

  “And how do you propose to do that ten years later?” Robbie scoffed. “You didn’t know who set the fire back then, have you learned something new?”

  “No, but I intend to.” He frowned, irked at his mulish tone.

  Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, Robbie refilled his glass and topped off Daniel’s. “To a man with a death wish. Can your partner manage the firm without you?”

  “He can, but I am not planning on his needing to. My thanks for your support.” He lifted his drink and took a sip, seeking to wash away his friend’s cynicism.

  The distant whine of a horse and clatter of dishes drifted to them. Robbie blew out a breath. “All right. I will bite. How the hell are we going to catch the bastard?”

  “I heard them that night,” he confided. He perched on Robbie’s desk, his words passionate. “It’s what saved my life, because it woke me up. Their voices carried across the lake. If I heard them, someone else may have as well. Someone might have seen something.”

  “Are you planning to ask around? Post a notice asking anyone with information to come forward?”

  He bristled at the skepticism lacing Robbie’s words. “There will be no posting of any notices. This has to be done quietly. I intend to speak to a select few who might know something. I will inform them that information is sought about the fire and ask them to spread the word that there is money to be had for any intelligence provided. Nothing might come of it, but I need to do this, Robbie. I don’t want vengeance, but I deserve justice. Help me to get it.” His finger tapped the discarded letter as he pressed his point home. “It is time. Past time.”

  Robbie scowled, and then swiped his hands down his face and muttered a few ripe curses beneath his breath. “Fine, fine. But God knows if you want it done quietly, we can’t have the long lost lord waltzing home and asking suspicious questions. No lid will keep that cover on for long. It will simmer and boil over right quick. I will do the asking. Hell, after ten years away, you wouldn’t know whom to ask anyway.”

  The lost lord? And he never waltzed. “Thank you, Robbie. I knew I could count on you.”

  Robbie’s sharp brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If you planned this from the start, keep that to yourself. I do not care to know you talked me into another one of your bloody schemes. To know you still can. One of these days I’m going to stop listening. And then where will you be?”

  Daniel smiled, the knot of tension within him unfurling. “I would be lost without you.” He lifted his glass in a toast.r />
  “Very true, and don’t you forget it.” Robbie sipped his whiskey and eyed Daniel over its rim. “So you are here to rebuild Lakeview Manor and catch a murderer. You will be busy.”

  He paused and rubbed his neck. “Ah, there is one other item.”

  “Finding a murderer before he finds you is not enough to keep you busy?”

  He sighed. “I am aware of the dangers posed in my opening this investigation. I will watch my back, Robbie, but I doubt whoever tried to kill me is waiting in the wings to strike again after all this time.”

  “You may be right, but we don’t know why they tried the first time. They might still harbor motive,” Robbie pointed out. “What is the other item?”

  “It is about my brother’s betrothal to Lady Julia Chandler. Why hasn’t Edmund set a wedding date yet?” The question had been on his mind ever since his lips had touched Julia’s. She was a temptress incarnate. If she were his, he would have wedded and . . . He did not let himself finish the thought.

  She was not his. Could never be.

  Lady Julia Chandler was marriage material, and as Daniel had assured Robbie, he was an emphatic bachelor. A wife and family were ties that bound, and he preferred his life unfettered. Always had.

  Surprise crossed Robbie’s face at the change in topic. “Well, I’m not in His Grace’s confidences, for he doesn’t condescend to speak to me as a peer. But it was my understanding that Lady Julia postponed the nuptials first when her mother died, and then after her sister lost her fiancé. I mentioned those events in my letters.”

  So it was Julia, not Edmund. It was understandable she would not abandon her father or Emily while they grieved. Apparently, he had fate and family loyalty to thank for saving her from Edmund thus far.

  He jerked as Robbie’s fist pounded his desk, snapping him from his thoughts.

  “Damn it, man! That is what you need to accomplish while you are here. Forget the murder mystery. Stop Lady Julia from marrying that stuffed-up, no-good, bloody bastard!”

  His eyes locked with Robbie’s and his lips curved. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Robbie’s fierce expression eased, and he grinned. “So then. We’ll add that to your agenda. What do we have so far? Rebuild Lakeview Manor, find out who tried to murder you, keep them from killing you, and break up Lady Julia and your brother’s engagement. That is, without ruining her, which could be complicated . . .” Robbie’s words trailed off, and he furrowed his brow as if mulling over a difficult equation.

  Daniel grunted at Robbie’s colossal understatement. One did not sever a betrothal contract to a duke with impunity, but it couldn’t be helped. It had to be done. Julia deserved better. He just had to figure out how the devil to do it. These things had to be done delicately.

  “Did I leave anything out?” Robbie interrupted his thoughts.

  “That ought to cover it.” He smiled at the teasing glint in Robbie’s eyes. “Too much?”

  “Nah, nothing to it. Just don’t catch the first boat home.” Robbie winked before his mien turned serious. “Actually, there is another matter. You need to go to Bedford Hall and see your father’s estate before Edmund runs it into the ground.”

  His humor fled. “Is it still bad?”

  Robbie nodded. “It is. I know you don’t give a damn about your brother, but Bedford Hall was once your home, too, and the tenants were your father’s people. You might want to have a look. See if there is anything you can do.”

  Conflicting emotions warred within him. His childhood years had been cold, lonely, and abusive under Edmund’s fists. But splashes of light had sporadically illuminated the darkness.

  He recalled his father seeking him out to ride over the estate, meet with tenants, and discuss his plans for the land. Like water given to a desert traveler, he had lapped up every moment, desperate to fill the cavernous hole of his loneliness. It served to remind him that his father hadn’t entirely forgotten him.

  So how could he forget his father or neglect his legacy?

  He could not. But Bedford Hall was Edmund’s domain, and Daniel’s options were limited. His brother had made it clear when he inherited the title that he did not want, nor appreciate, Daniel’s input or advice in regard to estate matters. All he desired from Daniel was the view of his backside kicked out the front door and his promise to never return.

  An image of Julia’s flushed features flashed before him. Hell, the damage had been done. He had already trespassed on forbidden ground, and he’d be damned if he regretted doing so.

  In for a penny, in for a pound.

  He would visit his father’s estates and see the changes Edmund’s management had wrought. Resolved, he glanced up at Robbie. “And where is my evil twin these days? In London? Or rusticating here in the country?”

  Robbie smiled. “A buyer of mine mentioned he was joining Bedford at a hunting party in Kent, so that should give you some time.

  “While the cat’s away . . .” He let his words trail off.

  “Exactly. The wee mice can strategize . . .” Robbie agreed.

  Edmund had not only left his lands open to trespassers, but had left his lovely fiancée alone as well.

  Daniel surmised Julia would make an appearance at the fall festival. Attending the fair had moved to the top of his agenda.

  He anticipated their paths crossing again. She would still be spitting mad, but he could not summon regret for kissing her. Would make no apologies for doing so. Damned if he did not want to do it again.

  Privately he added that to his growing agenda.

  Chapter Three

  JULIA had spent a restless night tossing and turning, feeling hot and sweaty one moment and in the next, yearning for something just beyond her grasp . . .

  As she traversed the fairgrounds the next morning, she worried her lower lip, oblivious to the crowds jostling her as she pondered her reaction. Should a kiss affect one so? Considering it had been her first, she had no idea. Something tightened in her chest, pain at having to concede that Daniel’s kiss had been her first, for she was long past the age when a woman should have a few illicit pecks to boast about.

  More to the point, her first kiss should have been with Edmund. It should have been special, memorable. Not to say that Daniel did not kiss very well, or as well as she could judge, having no comparisons in regard to such matters. She furrowed her brow, finding it hard to believe another kiss could be more thorough than theirs had been, or be done more expertly, or be more . . .

  “Julia?”

  The amused voice penetrated her runaway thoughts and Julia jumped, turning to blink at her sister. “What . . . where?”

  “I believe those are my questions.” Emily laughed. “What in the world are you thinking about? Your cheeks are bright pink.” Emily studied her more closely. “In fact, you look a bit feverish, are you all right? Really, Julia, you have not been yourself since you rushed into the house yesterday, looking as if the Hounds of Hell were on your heels. What is the matter with you?”

  It was an incredibly long speech for Emily, for her sister had become a woman of few words since Jason’s death two years ago. It put Julia in a quandary, for while delighted to see Emily find her voice, it was an inopportune moment for her to do so—or to be so astute.

  “Julia?”

  “Well, I . . .” She felt as if she had been caught doing something forbidden. And she was not, or she was not anymore. Feeling her cheeks flame, she met Emily’s amused regard, struggling to form a response when none came to mind.

  The surrounding crowds rescued her from her reticence. Snatches of conversations rose above the din.

  “He’s right crazy!”

  “Don’t care. I got me two bob ridin’ on Black Devil tossing the toff on his arse. I aim to get me a new trowel with me winnings.”

  “He must have lost his wits in America. It’s right dangerous for a bloke to be witless round Black Devil.”

  “Well, here’s hoping he don’t find ’em. I need me a new trowel.”<
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  “He’s got the looks of His Grace, and His Grace has a right fine seat on a horse. Might want to be rethin’ your wager.”

  Julia heard no more. The comparison to His Grace identified the witless toff. As much as she’d like to see Robbie Tanner’s new, unbroken stallion toss Lord Daniel Bryant on his hindquarters, she could not face the man just yet. Not when tongue-tied and under Emily’s suspicious regard.

  Unfortunately, the decision was not hers to make. Julia looped her arm securely through Emily’s as they found themselves carried along with the throngs of villagers, moved like flotsam in a river of people. Excitement rippled through the crowds. They appeared to be heading toward the paddocks next to Tanner Stables, which abutted the village square.

  “Oh dear, Robbie must be taking bets on that poor horse unseating all challengers. It is not right, Julia.” Emily said, worry edging her voice.

  She squeezed Emily’s forearm. “He will find a buyer for him soon. The horse is too valuable for him to stable for long. Robbie deals in the sale of prime bloodstock, not losing pounds over the board and keep of them.”

  “But if the horse is mad . . .”

  “He is not mad. Just spirited.” She slid her arm around her sister’s waist, disturbed at her choice of words.

  Madness was not something Julia wished to contemplate, not after the past year. An image of Emily standing with a pair of shears clutched in her hand flashed before her. Covering her sister’s bare feet were the golden strands of her once beautiful long hair. Emily’s eyes had pooled with tears. Jason loved my hair, she had said.

  She tightened her grip on Emily and buried the image. After all, Emily was much, much better now. Taking her away to the Lake District for a few months had been restorative. No one need ever know of how dark that period had been, for no one knew the true extent of her sister’s despair but Edmund and the family. He had kept their family’s confidence, his future linked with theirs through his betrothal to Julia. Julia frowned at her train of thought. Of course, Edmund would have been discreet had they not been betrothed.