Caught in the Storm of a Duke’s Heart: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel

by Abby Ayles

  Chapter 8

  It started to rain again that evening and continued to do so through the night. When the next morning arrived and the skies showed no sign of letting up, Judith’s every thought of continuing their journey vanished.

  In some way, she was glad they did not have to leave so soon, for she was yet to recover her full strength.

  As the weather would not improve, it was impossible to go outside the house and take a tour of the estate.

  Nevertheless, Mr. Beauregard was kind enough to take them around the house, just so they would be able to make their way about without getting lost.

  She had breakfast and lunch in her chamber with Amy. As the evening began to draw nigh, she realized she had still not set eyes upon the duke.

  The day before, she had blamed herself for sleeping through it. However, it later became clear that the duke was simply not ready to show himself.

  She was reminded of Mr. Beauregard’s words when she had expressed her wish to offer her gratitude to the duke in person.

  Why would anyone not want to show themselves to guests they had so warmly received? Yet, as she moved about, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was being watched.

  At first, she thought she was simply imagining things, but once, when she turned around, she could have sworn she saw a shadow disappearing down the hallway.

  Perhaps it was the master of the house? But why should he lurk in the shadows when he could show himself and see her if he so wished?

  “Do you suppose he is hideous?” Amy asked, giving voice to Judith’s thoughts.

  “Amy!” she exclaimed. “He is our host. It would not do to be rude.”

  “But my lady, I am scarcely being rude. More like saying it as it might be. I mean, what other explanation could there be?”

  Judith lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. “Perhaps he is shy. Or mayhap a recluse.”

  Amy seemed to think about it for a moment, before shaking her head.

  “Shy? I think not. A recluse? Well, it isn’t unlikely. Whichever it is, I do hope we shall see him before we leave.”

  “I wonder when that will be, Amy. If this rain doesn’t let up soon, by the time it does, the roads will be too dangerous to travel. We might have to remain here for a while.”

  “Lord, I hope not. If your Aunt Tia does not hear from us by tomorrow, she will be worried. Once your Father and Mother receive word from her, they too will be overcome with fear.”

  “You know, now that you mention it, Amy, I suppose I must write to them to inform them. Who knows, despite the weather, a messenger might be able to reach them in time and assuage them of their worries.”

  “We must speak with Mr. Beauregard and see if that can be arranged,” Amy suggested.

  Just then, Judith felt another presence in the room. He spoke before she turned to him.

  “If what can be arranged?”

  She smiled at the man she was quickly beginning to grow fond of. Mr. Beauregard appeared to be a man of few words. He never smiled, his face was always stern, and his voice firm.

  Still, there was an air about him that was simply … warm. Judith wasn’t insensible.

  She had heard the hushed whispers of the servants, seen the way they walked around the house, as though on hot coals.

  Mr. Beauregard seemed the only one who wasn’t affected in the least bit by whatever it was that bothered the rest. His calm demeanor reassured her a great deal.

  “Sending a message to my parents,” she replied. “And to my Aunt Tia. We do not know if it will be possible. I fear if neither of them hears from us soon, they will become frantic and begin to search for us. We must let them know we are safe.”

  Mr. Beauregard nodded.

  “I shall see to it. Is there anything else you need?”

  Judith thought for a moment, wondering if she should ask. Eventually, she decided.

  “If it would not be too much to ask…”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Mr. Giraud, our coachman; I made a promise to him before he breathed his last. I assured him I would return for his body and see him sent home to his family, where he can be given a proper burial. I feel inclined to pay the debt I now owe. It is the least I can do.”

  Mr. Beauregard’s eyes grew dim with seriousness as he looked at her. Judith fought the urge to cower and look away. She won.

  Finally, he sighed. “I shall have to speak with His Grace regarding this. Can you lead us back to where his body lies, if need be?”

  “Yes, I suppose I can. We came here using a compass. We can find the carriage using the same. We covered his body with a coat in the woods nearby. I hope there aren’t wild animals who…”

  “No. Not in those woods. However, there are birds. I will speak with His Grace right away. If it is to be done, then we must act quickly.”

  Judith sighed as she felt the wave of gratitude wash over her. She hoped the duke would grant her request. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to know that Mr. Giraud had been granted his last wish.

  “Will that be all, my lady?”

  She nodded. “For now, yes. Thank you.”

  “Very well, then. Supper will be served at six. You and Miss Mitchell have been invited by His Grace to dine with him. Please do not belated.”

  With those words, he turned and left the room as quietly as he had entered.

  Judith sat back, blinking, as his final words played over in her head.

  The duke would be at dinner that evening. She would be meeting him. Finally.

  “Do you think he was listening to our conversation?” Amy asked. Her eyes widened as a gasp broke free. “What if he heard me call his master hideous?”

  Judith looked at her and shook her head, amused.

  “Amy, I’m certain he heard no such thing. The duke must have planned this all along.”

  She stared into the distance, wondering what to make of this latest development.

  She knew not what to expect from the duke. What would he look like? Was he elderly like Mr. Beauregard? Or a young lord, who had come into his inheritance early?

  Was he the only one who lived here? And did he have family? If so, would she be meeting them at dinner or were they absent for some reason?

  She had heard no mention of anyone apart from the duke.

  What is it about this place that has me asking a thousand questions?

  She supposed she would find out soon enough.

  ***

  Two hours later, Judith and Amy entered the dining room, led by Mr. Beauregard.

  The table was beautifully set. An array of wholesome, mouth-watering delicacies lay spread out on the buffet to one side of the room, with servants waiting nearby. The chairs were empty: the duke was yet to arrive.

  “My lady,” Mr. Beauregard said, pulling out a chair for her.

  She took it, thanking him as she sat. He seated Amy next to her.

  Afterwards, he went to stand at the far end of the hall.

  Judith looked at Amy, exchanging meaningful glances. The silence that seemed to be an integral member of the household sang aloud, almost deafening them.

  She was tempted to speak but decided to hold her peace.

  Long moments passed and her gaze caught the ornate wooden clock hanging on the wall. There were a few minutes left until it struck six.

  In their bid to adhere to Mr. Beauregard’s instructions, it appeared they had arrived early.

  Seeing this, Judith was happy to wait and be patient.

  Soon, six o’clock struck. The instant it did so, she heard footsteps approaching.

  The servants in the room grew somber. Their demeanor affected Judith, and she found herself feeling apprehensive.

  She was certain that whoever was approaching could be none other than the duke.

  Her eyes remained on the door; doing anything else seemed an impossible task. She knew not whether to stand or sit. Which would be more appropriate?

  Which would the duke require of her
?

  Finally, a shadow appeared at the door. It was tall, the tallest she had seen.

  Of their own will, her feet rose to stand. Amy did the same.

  Slowly, a form materialized from the shadow and, as the gentleman stepped into the light, Judith took in his impressive stature.

  He would dwarf her father and brother easily. He had shoulders so broad, he would make any man look small by comparison.

  As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she chided herself. What was she doing, thinking of sitting on the strange man’s shoulders?

  But the reprimand was soon forgotten, as she returned to helplessly staring at her host. Thankfully, he did not look at her in return: His eyes seemed fixed on something in the distance, something only he could see.

  His eyes were large and deep-set and, as he finally turned and drew closer, she could see they were obsidian in color. Somehow, she found that entirely fitting for a majestic man like himself.

  It was as though the shadows he had just stepped out of clung to those orbs.

  Judith suspected that if she stood close enough, looked deeply enough, she would see secrets in those dark eyes; tales of the things that so evidently haunted this man.

  There were lines around his mouth that said he had once used to smile. However, there was not a hint of one now.

  His nose, long and straight, stood proud. His well-cut lips were firmly set. His strong chin stood out as though carved by a master.

  He did not smile, but he did not frown either. He…

  Judith groped to find a word to describe his expression.

  His strides as he crossed to them were long and graceful. His entire bearing betrayed the noble blood that flowed through his veins.

  No one could see him and not know he was a nobleman. His nobility was something he wore like a cloak—an air of gravity that shrouded him, just like the shadows that shrouded his eyes.

  He came to a stop as he reached the table, and Judith peered closer still, unable to help herself.

  She could find nothing hideous about him.

  Yes, his skin was pale, making her wonder about the last time he had stepped out into the sun.

  Save for that, he appeared to be a healthy young lord. She would put him at no more than five-and-thirty.

  Just then, he turned to her, and she almost jumped out of her skin, startled.

  It took a moment to recover and, as she did so, she looked away hurriedly, bowing her head.

  Mr. Beauregard was by their side in an instant.

  “My lady, His Grace, Stephen Dunham, the Duke of Sawbrook.”

  “Your Grace, this is Lady Judith Brewen, daughter of Baron Davenforth, and her lady’s maid, Miss Amy Mitchell.”

  Judith stepped out of her chair and sunk into the deepest curtesy she could manage, still keeping her gaze averted from their host. Amy rose and did the same.

  Something had happened to Judith when the duke had looked at her with those searching eyes. It was as though he had seen through to her soul.

  She felt a chill begin to creep over her heart; something even the storm had not been able to do.

  What was it about this man? About this place?

  Drawing her mind away from the confusing thoughts, she sought her voice.

  “Your Grace, it is a great honor to finally meet the gentleman who saved us from our woes. You have my endless gratitude for the impeccable hospitality you have shown us. I fear words cannot suffice to tell you how grateful myself and my maid are. Thank you for letting us into your home. It is a kindness I shall never forget.”

  The duke cleared his throat then, and she dared to look up. When she saw he was no longer looking at her, she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  “Please, my lady, I have done nothing that anyone else would not have done. I could not have turned you away, knowing your troubles. It was my duty. I am honor-bound to offer my hospitality to all who need it.”

  Still keeping his gaze averted, he gestured at the display of courses before them.

  “Shall we dine?”

  Judith nodded, returning to her seat as he took his.

  “Most certainly, Your Grace.”

  Chapter 9

  His voice made her think of ice wrapped in silk. It was cold, yet smooth.

  It was a deep baritone, the kind that reverberated in the air. It did not matter if she left the estate that very night, Judith knew it was the kind of voice one could never forget, and she was sure she never would.

  No more words were said as they began to eat. Silence started to weigh heavily again, but this time Judith tried to ignore it. The clash of silver cutlery and china interrupted it every now and then.

  In no time, she returned to stealing glances.

  He wore dark clothing, like his butler. Except, even his shirt was black.

  He kept his black hair long, and it had been combed back and tied at the base of his neck with a black, satin ribbon.

  However, his face was clean shaven, freshly so. She wondered if he had gone to the trouble because of his guests, and then wondered what he had looked like before taking the razor to his chin.

  An image flashed through her mind, and she smiled at it.

  In it, he had a beard falling to his chest, a moustache covering his lips, and the hair on his head flew freely in an imaginary breeze.

  A rather amusing sight, yet she could not deny that, even in her imagination, the duke was a handsome man.

  His appearance was not perhaps the kind that made ladies swoon and bat their lashes. Certainly, he did not at all resemble the handsome, charming man at the flower stall in the market.

  No. There was a ruggedness to her host, and, to her amazement, she found him all the more appealing for that.

  She felt a nudge in her side, and she turned to Amy. As Amy leaned in, so did she, so they met halfway.

  Her ears strained as Amy whispered.

  “My lady, have some care, will you? If you must stare, you need not make it so obvious. I fear you shall burn a hole into his face if you continue this way.”

  Judith’s cheeks grew warm as they flushed crimson. She hadn’t realized she had been so careless with her appraisal.

  Discreetly, she looked around the room, at the faces of all the servants waiting upon them. As soon as her eyes settled on one, they looked away.

  They, too, had caught her staring.

  If the duke was even half as perceptive as she suspected he might be, it meant that he, too, was aware of her undisguised admiration. She was suddenly mortified.

  “Oh. Thank you, Amy. I shall do well to remember my manners.”

  With those words, she pulled away and returned to her plate.

  She tried hard not to stare any longer or steal any more glances. Yet, she remained painfully aware of the duke’s powerful presence. She could feel him, sense him.

  There was an inexplicable sense of sadness about him.

  She had hoped, when she finally saw him, her questions would be answered. Instead, she now had even more questions.

  Why is he so sad? Why does the darkness seem to cling to him? Why is the atmosphere here so gloomy? What unfortunate incident could have occurred to leave everyone so … dreary?

  Unable to bear the discomforting silence any longer, she cleared her throat.

  “Your family isn’t joining us tonight, Your Grace?”

  He ought to have a family, did he not? A man his age, a duke for that matter, would surely have a wife and perhaps even an heir to inherit all of this when he was gone.

  Possibly a parent who lived still or a sibling?

  As soon as those words left her mouth, she knew she should have held her tongue.

  The duke froze, his hand in midair. The servants gasped before hushing. Even Mr. Beauregard, who remained ever poised, twitched, eyes wide with alarm.

  Time slowed, as she watched the duke lower his hand, lay his fork on his plate, pick up a napkin, dab it to his lips, and swallow.

 
; When he opened his mouth to speak, time resumed its usual pace.

  “I am afraid I cannot eat any more. My stomach seems full. Please, enjoy the rest of your meal … and the evening.” He rose to his feet then. “If you would excuse me, my lady, Miss Mitchell.”