The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  IT WAS NEARING dawn when someone pounded on Daniel’s door, streaks of dim light just beginning to sliver through the curtains. They coincided with the chimes of the mantel clock, and he sprang up before the first knock had finished. Years under Edmund’s roof had made him a light sleeper. He had his breeches on and the door opened within seconds.

  The footman looked as if he had tumbled out of bed and haphazardly tossed on whatever clothes were at hand. He tripped over his words in his haste to spit them out. “Sir, you need to come quick. It’s Lakeview Manor. It’s on fire!”

  Edmund was home.

  He clamped down his blind fury and snapped out orders. “Roust Taunton and Mr. Curtis. Have them meet me there. Wake the stables. Have them saddle the horses.”

  Slamming his door, he finished dressing, his heart thumping.

  Bloody hell. Not again. It was like a nightmare repeating itself. He forced air into his lungs as his throat tightened. He was all right. More importantly, Julia was asleep in her bedroom, and for once, he thanked God he was in his. He hoped she stayed there, cursed under his breath when he knew without an iota of doubt that his Maid Marian most certainly would not.

  Gritting his teeth, he whipped open the door and raced out. He did not give a damn about salvaging the beginnings of the timber frame, knowing how quickly fire consumed, but he could protect his headstrong fiancée. Or at least try.

  THE ORANGE GLOW lit up the sky. Flames, like dancing ribbons, engulfed the structure, consuming all they entangled. Crackles of popping lights splashed into the night. Oak timbers succumbed under the scorching heat, crashing down in a roar of spitting sparks. An inferno of heat forced everyone back from the burning mass.

  A horse-drawn cart had been loaded up with barrels of water. Men had formed a human chain, passing buckets to douse the perimeter around the blaze. It was too late to save the frame, but there were thickets, brambles, and the lines of trees that created a border between Taunton Court and the manor, which threatened to carry the blaze farther.

  As the heat engulfed Daniel, he stood in impotent fury. Moments later, he became aware of Julia’s presence and found her beside him. Having her there eased him. Edmund had taken nothing away from him that he couldn’t rebuild. It was just loss of work, time, and wood.

  Julia was everything.

  His throat tightened and he grasped her elbow. “Stand back. Burning embers can spit free and catch on anything.”

  She nodded, curling her arms around her waist. The firelight danced over her bleak expression.

  Unable to resist, he cradled the back of her head with one hand, and planted a kiss on her lips. He did not care that they had an audience. He needed to touch her. In the midst of this destruction, he needed to feel life. Her lips on his were a reassuring balm to his soul.

  “We will rebuild.” He straightened and skimmed a finger down her cheek.

  “We will. But that is the last of the oaks,” Julia said, her eyes sad.

  “Next time we will hire guards.”

  Daniel turned to see Taunton and Brett approach.

  “Bedford is sending a warning,” Taunton said, his eyes hard.

  Daniel clamped his jaw. His eyes strayed to Julia, and he cursed himself for ever having involved her.

  “It is a warning to Daniel and vengeance,” Julia said.

  Taunton and Brett exchanged looks with him, and after a brief hesitation, Daniel gestured them ahead. When they had left to assist the men, he rested his hands on Julia’s shoulders. They were warm from the heat emanating from the fire, and he tipped his temple to her forehead. “This is just wood. The only thing that matters is that you are no longer his. You are mine, and I thank God for it every day.” He cupped her cheek. “And I am yours.”

  He released her shoulders to catch her hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. He needed to keep her safe. Feared his ability to do so.

  She nodded, her eyes moist. “Go. I will be all right.” Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth, blinking back tears.

  He kissed her temple, not wanting to leave her alone.

  “Go. You will feel better if you do something,” she insisted, swiping at her eyes, and retreating farther from the heat of the fire.

  With grave reluctance, he joined the line next to his foreman. He struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand, to tamp down his fear. He drew steady breaths, and ignored the burning heat that irritated his scarred shoulder. They worked in tandem, methodically passing buckets hand to hand.

  Eventually, Brett caught his attention, and he stepped away to join him and Robbie. Their faces were streaked with dirt and sweat, their hair plastered to their brows, and both reeked of soot and smoke. Brett would need a new sling, his dirt-stained and damp. He surmised he looked no better.

  “I agree with Taunton. Edmund is warning you to return to America. The bastard.” Brett’s tone was punched with anger. He took a handkerchief and swiped his brow, his gaze fastened on the fire.

  “I suggest you build with brick next time,” Robbie said, a fit of coughing seizing him.

  “I think we need to revise our strategy,” Daniel said.

  “We’re finally going to shoot the bastard and bury him in the back paddock?”

  Daniel shook his head at Robbie’s eager look. “No, but we are going to reverse roles. Edmund has been watching us, as attested to the attack at the docks and on your curricle. It is time we lined up some men and monitor his movements more closely. I had asked Mabry to inform me of Edmund’s return, but my brother must have slipped home quietly. We are better protected if we know where Edmund is or with whom he is meeting. And I need to protect the Chandler family. This was too close to home. I need to make sure Edmund doesn’t get any closer.”

  “Clever, but you always were,” Brett said.

  Daniel feared it was not enough. Was desperate to do more. He was not good at standing still.

  The line of men had broken up, the perimeter soaked with water. They all stood back to watch the last of the feeble structure tumble to its ignominious demise.

  The foreman caught Daniel’s eye. “My lord, the earl asked me to tell you he is taking Lady Julia home.”

  Daniel thanked the man, locating Taunton, who was assisting Julia to mount Constance. She turned to him, and their eyes met across the distance. Curling strands of hair tumbled free from her chignon, and she lifted a hand to tuck an errant strand behind her ear. Something shifted in Daniel’s chest, as if an empty hole had been filled. She raised her hand to him, a ghost of a bittersweet smile tipping her lips before she nudged Constance with her heel.

  His home was another smoldering pile of rubble, but Daniel did not feel the same sense of loss that he had felt the first time it had been reduced to ashes. Admittedly, that first blaze had stolen all he had owned or cared for in the world, and almost taken his life. He rolled his shoulder, loosening the scarred skin.

  Sometimes you had to lose something to realize its value.

  He was a far richer man than when he had left ten years ago, and he’d be damned if Edmund took anything away from him again.

  He would best Edmund. He did not know his brother’s motive, he only knew his own to succeed was bigger.

  HOURS LATER, DANIEL left the waterlogged, smoldering remains and wended his exhausted way home.

  He eyed the empty corridor before he slipped into Julia’s bedroom and softly locked the door behind him. He felt like the proverbial fox in a henhouse with the rose-colored wallpaper, the assault of pink and white offending his masculine sensibilities.

  He leaned against the door, folded his arms across his chest, and admired the view.

  Julia sat submerged in a large tub before a glowing fire. A pitcher of water sat on a table within arm’s reach. One slim, soap-lathered leg lifted in the air as she sponged it off. Her movements were quick and practical, and he cursed her efficiency as she dispensed with one leg and then the other.

  Pulling the ribbon from her hair, she shook out the cascad
e of curls, and slid low into the tub, drenching her hair. She reached for a block of soap on the chair.

  “No, wait,” he cried.

  Julia shrieked, dropping the soap and whipping around, one arm curled protectively over her breasts. Eyes wild, she gaped at him. “What are you doing here?” she cried when she had recovered her voice. “You need to leave before someone sees you. Good lord, it is morning and—”

  “No one saw me, and I have locked the door so no one will see me.” He laughed away her protests, yanked off his Hessian boots, shucked his jacket and waistcoat and dispensed with his shirt.

  He walked to the commode and vigorously scrubbed his hands and face, shedding the layer of soot and grime caking him like a second skin. Shaking the water droplets from his hair, he crossed to Julia’s side and retrieved the soap that had fallen to the floor.

  “What are you doing? Daniel you are filthy.”

  “Whatever do you mean? I washed.” He lathered soap into his hands, and knelt beside the tub.

  He planted his hands on her head, turned her wary expression away from him and proceeded to soap her hair. She was resistant at first, stiff-necked and annoyed, but as his fingers massaged into her scalp, she relaxed. Her shoulders eased, and she sank back against the tub. Her hair was so thick. A lovely lustrous brown, with streaks of gold. And so many curls, even damp as he pulled one straight, it snapped back into a ringlet when released.

  “It is a hopeless cause. Don’t even try to straighten it.”

  “Why in God’s name would I ever want to do that?” He was aghast at the thought.

  Julia peered at him over her shoulder. “You like it?”

  “I do. If anyone said anything negative about it, they were an idiot.” At her expression, he paused, sensing he had touched a vulnerable nerve. “I have always loved your hair, Julia. It is like you, vibrant and beautiful.” She stared at him silently, and then turned away. He cleared his throat. “It is the perfect compliment to what you are wearing.”

  “Mmh.” Her response was half moan as his hands massaged her head and soaped her hair, moving down to her shoulders. “I wonder if my family would agree.”

  “Let us not push matters. Your father still has his pistols loaded.”

  She laughed, but her laughter trailed off. “I am sorry about Lakeview Manor, Daniel. To lose it once must have been devastating, but a second time must have—”

  “Shh. I lost nothing that cannot be replaced.”

  “But—”

  “Shh, Julia. It was a wood structure, nothing more, nothing less.” Eyes closed, he leaned down to press his lips to the slim column of her neck. “As long as you are safe, we will be fine. I—” His eyes snapped open and he lifted his head, swallowing back his words.

  I love you.

  They had been on the tip of his tongue. Almost casually unleashed, like any loving husband would say to a wife.

  “Daniel?” She peered back at him, her expression one of concern. “You look ghostly white. Daniel, speak to me. I understand loss. Am an expert on grief.”

  The concern in her eyes was nearly his undoing. How could he not fall in love with this woman? Who saw the hurt in others and needed to help. Who had experienced so much loss and yet fought to hold her family and an earldom together. She was kind, loyal, and courageous. And he was deeply, irrevocably in love with her.

  He swallowed again, choking on the myriad of emotions coursing through him. “I am all right, Julia. Just sad for you. It would have been your home, too. Complete with a nursery.”

  “We will hire guards.” She echoed his earlier promise and lifted her chin in a determined thrust.

  “Yes, we will.” He swept soapsuds over the curve of her cheek and her nose.

  She huffed out a breath, blew it off, and turned away. “Finish my hair.”

  He grinned. “As you command, my lady.” He let the long soapy strands slide through his fingers. “Dunk,” he muttered, after clearing his throat. He pushed lightly on her shoulders and she dipped her head under. He leaned over and lifted the pitcher of clean water, tipping her head back and pouring it over her head.

  He rinsed the soap from her hair. As he squeezed the water from the damp strands, the mindless task soothed him. This was her gift to him. She settled him.

  He could make no more promises regarding their future until he dealt with his past. Not until they were safe. When he shared all that was in his heart, he wanted his words to launch their own happily ever after without the menacing specter of Edmund darkening their days.

  But there were other ways in which to convey his feelings.

  Daniel stood up, stripped off his breeches, and laughed as Julia cried out when he stepped into the tub. He ignored the water sloshing over the rim, pooling on the floor, and Julia’s protests as he pulled his beautiful water nymph into his arms and loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  AFTER days of unrelenting rain, the sun had finally deigned to make an appearance. It graced them with a vast blue sky with the added boon of unseasonably warm November temperatures.

  Daniel rode to the southeastern acreage of Taunton’s property. Oblivious to the beauty of the day, he dismounted and tied Chase to a tree. He had eyes only for the figure in the green carriage dress, the sight returning his heart rate to a normal rhythm.

  Admitting his love for Julia added a new desperation to his standoff with Edmund. He now had someone he valued more than his own life, and he vowed to protect her. He hoped the letter burning a hole in his jacket pocket was a step in that direction. He just feared informing Julia that he intended to respond to it without his Maid Marian at his side. For that he would not allow.

  “Your bleak expression matches the look Mr. Curtis wore when I left him.”

  He found Emily had come upon him, her eyes amused. “Is Brett in trouble again?” He arched a brow at her.

  She lifted her chin in a gesture reminiscent of her older sister. “He makes his own trouble. If he did not appreciate the addendums I added to his letters, he shouldn’t have deceived me.”

  He stared, and his bark of laughter had Julia glancing their way. Seeing them, she smiled and walked over to join them.

  “Don’t tell Julia. She doesn’t appreciate subterfuge,” Emily hissed beneath her breath.

  Her words were prophetic. His forthright fiancée would expect nothing but the truth. It went to the issue of trust. He did trust her. He just did not see why wanting to protect her put that in question.

  “What is so amusing?” Julia asked, as she retied the ribbons to her bonnet.

  “I was telling Daniel about a letter I drafted for Mr. Curtis. Mr. Curtis was lamenting his recent weight gain and horrible case of gout.” She shrugged ruefully.

  “Weight gain?” Julia furrowed her brow. “I didn’t know he suffered from gout.”

  “He does now,” Emily said, scrunching her features in distaste. “Most unbecoming an affliction. I must return, for I promised to go riding with Jonathan. Are you staying, Julia?”

  “She is,” Daniel answered for her, looping her arm through his while admiring Emily’s handling of Brett’s trickery. Poor Mr. Curtis indeed. Daniel did not dare contemplate what other afflictions he suffered from.

  “I guess I am.” Julia smiled. “After being sequestered inside for so long, I am going to savor the day. You go ahead.”

  Forget the day, he planned to savor far more lovely sights. Like the way the breeze molded Julia’s skirts to her long legs, or brushed her cheeks a satin pink, or how her eyes rivaled the deepest blue of the sky.

  Julia stepped away from him and spread her arms to indicate the area in which they stood. “Look what I have found.”

  “What is it?” He smiled at the excitement in her voice, but did not shift his eyes from her. He doubted there could be anything more interesting than the way her riding habit fit over feminine curves.

  “We have an apple orchard.”

  He paused, forced to take in their surroundings. �
��Are you considering building a cider mill?” He gave her a questioning look.

  “A wise businessman once pointed out that it was a lucrative venture.”

  “Mmh, very wise indeed.”

  “Perhaps we could embark on another venture together.” She tilted her head to the side and mock batted her eyelashes.

  He laughed, but then his laughter faded. “That sounds marvelous. We’ll start on it as soon as I return from a short trip I have to undertake.”

  She straightened, her humor fleeing. “Return? Short trip?”

  He withdrew the letter he had received from the courier and handed it to Julia. While he waited for her to read it, he recalled that it had been delivered with responses to Brett’s letters. He now understood why he had left Brett cursing up a storm and vowing to have Emily’s beautiful, lying, deceitful head on a platter.

  “So they have located Charlie Shaw,” she said, handing the note back to him.

  “Yes. He was found in one of the seedier gambling hells. Robbie, Brett, and I are going to leave for the city tomorrow.” He folded the note and returned it to his pocket.

  As predicted, storm clouds moved in to shadow Julia’s eyes and she fisted her hands at her side, braced for battle. “I am coming. You cannot leave me here, Daniel. That is not your decision to make.”

  “No. It is not, but I am making it mine.” He struggled to keep his voice level, knowing Julia responded more to reason than anger. “Look, I am going with both Brett and Robbie, and a few other men. I am not stupid.”

  “And neither am I.”

  Forget reason, exasperation filled him and he tossed his hands up. “For God’s sake, Julia. This is not like the time Edmund locked you in the root cellar all those years ago. This is attempted murder. I cannot save you if you are dead, and I refuse to risk that.”

  “What did you say?” Julia breathed.

  He paused and wondered at the odd expression crossing her features. “This is not a children’s game. The consequences of this are dire, and—”