He caught her hand. “Where did Emily go? I think I will heal quicker with her by my side.”
His words eradicated any lingering worry over his health; the handsome rake would be fine. It was her sister she needed to worry about. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I will see that she returns,” she whispered, but her father heard her.
“And you, Julia. How long have you known about this? And when were you planning to tell me? Were you to marry the man one day and bury him the next?”
At her gasp, her father closed his eyes and pressed a hand against his temple. “My apologies. That was uncalled for.”
Only Brett appeared unperturbed. He waved his good arm dismissively. “Do not worry yourself. I have been saying the same thing. Tell him to go home every day. But you go on, your lordship, just keep talking. Scare some sense into him. He will not listen to me, but I am finding you need a fancy toff’s title to get things done around here. Good thing Daniel looks like Bedford and can borrow his.” Brett’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and a loopy smile split his face.
Julia blanched, her gaze shooting to Daniel, who groaned and swiped his hands down his face.
“Please tell me that is the laudanum talking,” her father warned.
This was why she hadn’t confided in her father or gone to the authorities. Their story was based on trust and instinct. She trusted Daniel, and instinct had her distrusting Edmund.
“Perhaps we should talk in your office,” Daniel hastily intervened. “He should get some sleep.”
“Brilliant idea, s’tired.” Brett murmured. “Have Emily come read me to sleep. She looks like an angel.” He closed his eyes and his breathing leveled, but the smile remained.
Daniel could not get her father out of the room fast enough, obviously fearing what else Brett would ask of Emily. “Sir?”
“Fine. I could use a drink. It’s the only way for this story to go down.”
TWO HOURS AND half a bottle of good brandy later, Taunton’s anger had been drowned out enough for him to hear the conviction in their words.
He slumped behind his desk and sighed, looking aged. “Christ. My Meg was right about you two as boys, but I was right about Edmund the man. She thought Julia would be a good influence over him, peel away his haughty veneer and find the man beneath the duke. My Meg said she had to do the same with me.” His words were soft, and his smile wistful. “I trusted her opinion more than my own, but I guess none of us can be right all the time or we’d be intolerable bores.” He lifted his drink and took another sip as if to ease the sting of his sainted wife being mistaken.
“My apologies, sir. I would have told you when I asked for Julia’s hand, but I was not certain then. Given your reaction to the news, you can understand my reservations. There is no evidence to bring to the authorities. We reported the attack at the docks, but that can be dismissed as a robbery gone awry, particularly in that area.”
Taunton nodded. “Yes, I understand.” He leaned forward. “We cannot bring charges against a duke of the realm lightly. What you have is a leaking boat. Too many holes and your story sinks. We need to stopper up the holes.”
Daniel swallowed at Taunton’s use of the word we, stunned at how deeply the man’s trust touched him. Next to Robbie, Brett, and now Julia, there were few people in his life who had trusted him on his word alone. There were benefits to being a member of a family, particularly the Chandler family, and each day he was learning to not only appreciate them, but to lean on them.
Julia circled her father’s desk and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”
“Pray tell, for what? Not killing him or turning you over my knee as I should have?”
“For believing us.”
Daniel quickly dropped his gaze to his drink. He had never been an us before either. He hoped this meant that Julia would finally agree to marry him.
“It’s the damnedest thing, but I do.” Taunton sighed. “So let us get to the bottom of this. Stopper up the holes. What would he be willing to kill for?”
Julia frowned. “We have been going on the assumption that your father left you something in his will that Edmund wants. But Shaw’s son spoke of his father worrying over a betrayal. What if it isn’t something your father left you, but something he did. A betrayal he committed.”
“It makes sense,” Daniel agreed. “My father could have had Shaw draw up documents in an attempt to right the wrong done. Doctor Reilly might have learned of the betrayal through being present at my father’s conversations with Shaw or through my father’s sickbed rambles. But when my father died, Edmund likely refused to honor whatever wishes my father had put forward. Instead, he bought Shaw and Doctor Reilly’s silence and they bled him dry, thus Edmund’s debts and the bleeding of his own estates.
“Shaw must have kept the damning document, blackmailed Edmund with it, and threatened Edmund that if anything were to happen to him, it would be made public.” Daniel had started to pace, but he stopped. “It is little wonder Edmund spent a fortnight drinking himself sick over my father’s death.”
“Hmph,” Taunton emitted his usual eloquent opinion. “That still circles us back to the same question. What the devil can it be?”
“It is something Abel Shaw planned to give you, making you privy to the betrayal.” Julia added to Daniel’s words. “Edmund must be afraid you would make it public rather than collude with him to bury the scandal. Because you have integrity and he does not,” Julia said, her chin jutted out firmly and her eyes shining as they met his.
He beamed back at her. Murder, mayhem, and betrayals forgotten. For the moment, there was just Julia and how magnificent she was.
“Hmph.”
Taunton’s grunt snapped him out of his reverie. Damned if his cheeks didn’t burn.
Julia covered her mouth, barely stifling her laughter.
Grinning, he yanked his eyes from hers, needing to focus. “It has to be something that irrevocably tarnishes the illustrious title, for God knows, that is all Edmund gives a whit about.” Weariness settled over him, as they kept traveling over the same well-trodden path.
“What if you and Edmund aren’t the rightful heirs,” Taunton suggested.
He blinked. “Pardon?”
“Your parents were in despair over getting an heir to the dukedom. Your mother had lost so many children, Daniel, a full dozen. What if when she died, the child she birthed died with her?” He waved his brandy glass as if to direct them to fill in the rest.
“What and two changelings were placed in our stead?” he said, unable to hide his amusement.
“Daniel,” Julia chastised, but her own eyes were alight with laughter.
“My apologies, sir,” he said.
Taunton shrugged, unperturbed. “Considering I haven’t noticed any fairy wings on you, I suppose it is farfetched.”
“No. No wings, but I have a birthmark that every other generation of the Bedford lineage has inherited, and we have my grandmère’s unusual eye color.
“A birthmark?” Julia perked up. “I did not see any . . .” She snapped her mouth closed, and her cheeks bloomed a bright rose.
Taunton simply gave her a long look, but returned to the subject at hand. “It was a thought. Do you have any better?”
He shook his head, unable to summon a single idea.
Julia frowned, her ideas apparently depleted as well.
After a prolonged silence, Taunton gave him a curt nod. “Right. So then, we need to find that document before Edmund does. I approve of your idea of hiring this Weasel fellow, but I suggest we broaden the net and employ some private investigators. I also think we should return to Taunton Court. You make an easy target here, this city bursting with too many people, few of them honest. I like my odds on my own land, with my own people, where strangers would be noticed. Also, Edmund will be in London for a while, tied up with the little matter of severing a betrothal contract. Let us go home, build our defenses, strategize some more, and form our line of attack.”
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“Yes, let’s,” Julia agreed.
Daniel sought Julia’s gaze, and his heart warmed at her look of determination.
He was not alone. He had friends and family who believed in him.
He had Julia.
Chapter Twenty-five
JULIA paced a well-worn path in her room, wringing her hands. The other night in the library, she had wondered if the passion she and Daniel had shared was enough to sustain a marriage. It had been the wrong question to ask. She had another, far more pressing concern. What she needed to know was if one person’s love for another was enough to bolster a marriage?
She had no answer for that question either. And it frightened her, for she desperately needed one because she had fallen completely, madly, irrevocably in love with Daniel.
He was intelligent, caring, amusing, and kind. He loved her business sense and her forthright stare. He thought her clever and brilliant. Most important, he filled the empty chambers in her heart.
She thought she knew what debilitating grief was, having witnessed her father’s and sister’s, but to truly understand grief, she had to find someone whose loss she would mourn deeply. Someone whose disappearance from her life would carve a hole deep inside of her. She had never grieved over Edmund. Theirs was a contractual arrangement based on duty, not love. Never love, she knew now.
It was different with Daniel.
She loved him.
She wanted a marriage like her parents’, and what Emily had with Jason. But more than any of that, she wanted Daniel. She wanted him whole and alive and to be hers. She was beginning to think he was all she had ever wanted, and that she had been waiting for him for her entire life. He was the something more for which she had yearned. And if he sailed home to Boston, then she would go with him. But as he was rebuilding Lakeview Manor, she had hopes to get him to stay here . . . with her.
She stopped her pacing and lifted her chin, recalling the letter sent to Daniel. It is time. Come home and claim your destiny.
Tonight was hers. Time to say yes . . . to everything.
Before her courage failed her, she snatched the oil lamp from her bedside table, fled her room, and never looked back.
She hurried down the dimly lit stairs to the guest quarters. Reaching Daniel’s door, she paused, nerves stealing over her. It was nigh on midnight, and she was standing poised to knock on a man’s bedroom door. The pounding of her heart renewed her courage. Brett’s accident reminded her again that she could have lost everything she held dear. Tonight she planned to claim it so that she would never harbor any regrets.
She knocked. Her heart jumped in rhythm with her rapping knuckles. Just as her courage wavered, the door opened, and there stood Daniel.
He was so handsome, he stole her breath. His shirttails hung loose and the top buttons at his throat were undone, revealing a tantalizing strip of bare skin.
“What? What is it?” Daniel said, worry clouding those vibrant green eyes.
“I . . . ah . . . I . . .” It was one thing to be ready to surrender everything, it was another thing altogether to initiate it. She had brought her family back from the brink of despair, kept Taunton Court afloat, and was helping to solve a decades-old mystery. But she had never seduced a man before.
Excitement gripped her.
Daniel gave her a curious look, then peered into the corridor. Once he assessed no one else was afoot, he caught her hand and drew her inside, closing the door behind her.
The click of the lock echoed in the silence.
His hands on her shoulders, his eyes roved over her in concern. “You are pale as a ghost, Julia. It was a lot to learn today, and I understand if you need time to consider how involved you want—”
“You cannot rid yourself of me. Do stop trying.”
Surprised, Daniel blinked, then his eyes softened and he smiled. “Good, because I do not intend to.”
She nodded, her body warming under his touch. She released a breath, struggling to formulate a plan of how to proceed. She was good at planning.
But not at seduction . . .
“What is it? Shall I get Emily?”
“No!” Good lord, that was all she needed. A witness to her transgression—or her bungling attempt at it.
“All right.” He nodded. “Why don’t you sit.” He guided her over to an emerald brocade chair that engulfed her. Lifting the decanter on the table beside it, he poured a sip into a crystal tumbler. Her lantern was exchanged for the drink as Daniel folded her fingers around the glass.
She glanced at it blankly. “What is it?”
“Ah, no idea.”
He bent, and his head dipped close to hers as he assessed the contents. His thick, wavy brown hair was inches from hers. His familiar masculine scent teased her, sandalwood soap and Daniel, and she shamelessly inhaled.
“Smells like port.” He straightened, and brushed aside a tousled strand tumbling over his forehead. “Probably well aged, a tad sweet, and too expensive to drink.”
She lifted the glass and sniffed. Like a waft of smelling salts, the sweet odor snapped her back to her purpose. Wrinkling her nose, she placed the glass onto the table and stood. “I am all right now.”
“That is good,” he nodded, his hands on his hips.
He stood wearing a bemused expression, clearly awaiting an explanation. Her eyes strayed to the tumbler, and she wondered if she should have fortified herself with the liquid courage after all, then dismissed the idea. She was no coward.
She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and delivered her words without preamble. “I have come to give you my answer.”
“Your answer?” His lips twitched.
“But first you . . . You have to ask the question properly.” She cursed her stuttering. She never stuttered.
Baffled, Daniel rubbed his neck. “All right. Remind me what the question is?”
Incredulous, Julia simply gaped at him, then started for the door. She had changed her mind. He was an obtuse idiot and she was done with him.
“Wait, wait.” He caught her arm and spun her around. “I am beginning to understand. Forgive me.”
He was laughing at her. He stood dangerously close to her hand, which was itching to slap him.
“So will you—”
“If you want an answer,” she cut him off, her eyes narrowed in warning, “I would think very carefully before you continue.”
Aware of her indignation, which must have been emanating from her in waves, Daniel dropped his hands and stepped back. “I understand. You are quite right. We should do this properly.” He bobbed his head, but then looked hesitant. “So you want me on bended knee?”
She did not deign to respond but folded her arms across her chest and watched him squirm. She enjoyed his discomfiture, for it put them on equal footing.
“Right.” He nodded. “And do not dare try to leave or I’ll come after you,” he muttered. He raised his hands as if to hold her in place, slowly backing away as he searched the room. Seeming to locate what he was looking for, he hastened over to his bedside table where there sat a fresh vase of flowers. Scooping up the lot, he shook the water droplets free and returned to her side.
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“You want this done right, I should get dressed,” he suggested with amusement.
She bit down on her lower lip to stifle her own sudden spurt of hysterical laughter. She nodded. “Perhaps tuck in your shirt.” She closed her eyes. A grunt and some rustling movements came from him.
“You can open them now. I give you fair warning, if you say no, I will toss you over my shoulder and carry you off to Gretna Green.”
“I understand.” She tried to look solemn, but her lips twitched at the low grumble. He had neatened his hair, which she regretted, for she found she rather liked him disheveled. He had tucked in his shirt and neatly buttoned it, but the sight of his bare feet was strangely comforting.
His eyes met hers, warm and his expression approp
riately serious, all humor gone. He dropped onto one knee and clutched the flowers. “Lady Julia Chandler, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She let her eyes rove over his handsome features, breathing in the moment. He looked nervous, a bit expectant, and so very dear. She had waited too long.
“So will you? Marry me, that is.” He had waited long enough.
“Yes, yes, I will.” Exhaling, she was surprised at the lightness in her chest, as if a constricting band had released and something exploded inside of her.
He stood and grinned. Realizing he still held the makeshift bouquet, he thrust the flowers at her.
She frowned. Well, what had she expected from a loveless proposal? An Ode to Julia? Annoyed at herself, she reached for the bouquet, but Daniel snatched it away and tossed it onto the chair.
She wanted those flowers. They weren’t a declaration of undying love, but they were a sweet touch. She leaned over to reclaim them, but cried out as she was abruptly whisked off her feet.
He hoisted her into his arms and twirled her around and around, his laughter ringing in her ears.
She did not need the port, for her head spun without it.
He set her on her feet and his mouth captured hers in a deep, plundering kiss.
Heart hammering, pulse racing, she gasped as desire pulsed through her. His kiss was as powerful as all the others, stealing her breath, all thoughts in her head, and leaving her gasping for breath.
She gulped for air as his head lifted. Moments later, her eyes fluttered closed as his lips traveled down her neck, his hands lifting to fist in her hair.
“Good lord, I want you.” He pressed his face into the column of her neck and inhaled deeply. “What are you wearing?”
“Excuse me?” she breathed.
“Beneath your robe?” he whispered.
The Heart of a Duke Page 25
