The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  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 m
inutes 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.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did. I would have gotten away with it as I had for over a week, but Mary Reynolds took umbrage to her shoes being his second course. As if she did not have enough pairs, carrying on so over the loss of a few.” She frowned, still irked at the memory.

  Daniel threw back his head and laughed.

  “I am glad you find it amusing. Mary and the headmistress did not see the humor in it,” she continued in a more serious vein. “Truth be told, I was always horrifically homesick. I was better off with a governess. I belong here.”

  “Looks like we both managed to figure out a way to get where we wanted to be, despite our challenges.” He paused. “I am sorry about your mother and Jason, Julia. Sorry I was not here for you during that difficult time. It must have been lonely, handling so much on your own.”

  His compassion caught her off guard. She dropped her gaze, blinking at the stinging behind her eyes. No one had ever dared to address those years, or thought to ask how she had fared.

  She had been so scared, tired, and desperately lonely after she had lost her mother, watching despair steal first her father and then Emily from her. Her loneliness was compounded when all of her friends married and drifted away as they built their own families.

  For the first time in years, she found herself wanting to confide in someone who would understand how deeply alone one can be while still surrounded by family.

  “My father blamed Jonathan for my mother’s death.” It was a confidence she had shared with no one. She spoke softly, the pain of those years still raw. “He refused to see him. He would travel, visit other estates, or stay in London. Anything to keep him away from home. So I did what I had to. I took care of Jonathan and worked with the bailiff to keep things running.”

  He nodded. “I cannot imagine you would do anything less.”

  The compliment was like a warm wave suffusing her, moving her almost as much as seeing her family heal. His praise meant something, for he was the first to deliver it.

  “Your father was devoted to your mother, so I can only imagine the depth of his loss. Few marriages have what your parents had. Mine certainly did not. What turned him around?”

  That brought a smile to her lips. “One day, when Jonathan had turned two, he was outside with his nurse. She got distracted and he disappeared. My father thankfully was home then, and he orchestrated the search for him. We found him in an empty well. He had slipped in feet first and by God’s grace, landed in the bucket, which held his weight.” Daniel’s hand closed over hers as she drew a ragged breath. She did not pull away from the quiet comfort he offered. “When he was hauled up and into my father’s arms, it severed whatever held my father tethered to his grief. It took the near loss of his son for my father to find him.”

  “Sometimes it takes the threat of losing something precious for someone to realize its true value.”

  “Like Lakeview Manor?”

  “Yes,” he said, as if he’d been considering something else of which he had belatedly realized its value. “And Emily? How did you almost lose her, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “She loved Jason in the same manner as my father loved my mother. An
d she did not have a child to pull her back. It was like a light had been snuffed out inside of her. She went to a very dark place, and . . . there were times, I feared she would never return. I thought if I took her away from everything that reminded her of Jason, it would help her to heal. I took her to Windermere, in the Lake District, and with time and distance, she began to find her way back to us, like my father.”

  “They were both fortunate to have you.”

  Surprised, she glanced at him. When his eyes smiled into hers, her voice dropped to a quiet murmur, for she feared if she spoke too loud she would sever this fragile thread binding them. “They would do the same for me.”

  “I do not doubt it. That is the difference between your family and mine. Edmund and I never had that. I was not close with my father either, but in his last years, he did make more of an effort to seek out my company.” He shrugged. “I suspect he had spent so many years grooming Edmund for the title, that he was trying to catch up with me during those last few years.”

  She turned her hand palm up, threading her fingers through his. For just a few minutes. The silence that settled over them was comfortable, the bond tethering them together sweet. She did not want to let go of it just yet.

  “I apologize, Julia. I should have been honest with you earlier about Edmund’s and my relationship, but I wanted the chance to begin again with you. To set things right. I agreed to assist you with this venture for my father’s sake and yours, not Edmund’s. In truth, my brother never crossed my mind. I promised to assist you, and I will not renege on that.”

  Her faithful squire.

  Her pulse skittered, and she withdrew her hand from his, needing to regain some distance. Needing to ignore the tumultuous feelings the simple touch of his hand evoked. Like a gentle caress, it stoked buried yearnings. Ones he could not answer.