The Silent Duke

by Michaels, Jess

  The group laughed together again, and Charlotte took her seat with a smile. But even though she kept up a friendly enough face, her worry was real. Worry for Baldwin and whatever secrets he was keeping from her. And worry for herself. It seemed all their futures were precariously balanced now.

  She could only hope her brother was right that it would all work out in the end.

  Ewan poured three glasses of his best brandy and handed them around to Matthew and Baldwin. He tipped his glass toward his cousin and Matthew nodded as he lifted his own.

  “It’s a bit early in the day for clever toasts—” he began.

  “And brandy,” Baldwin added with a chuckle.

  “And brandy,” Matthew agreed. “But I’ll do my best. The past six months have been transformative for our group, but our friendship holds true. So I toast to our bond and our futures, wherever they may take us.”

  Baldwin and Ewan raised their glasses and all three men sipped the liquor. Ewan set his glass aside and wrote, “I’ve been out of London since November, so I’m behind. Tell me all that’s going on with everyone. Though I’m certain you two have discussed this at length while stranded in Donburrow.”

  Matthew shrugged. “We have, but I’m sure we’re both happy to summarize. James and Emma are gleefully counting the days until their child’s arrival. I’ve never seen him so over the moon.”

  Ewan nodded. He was so very pleased for his friend, the leader of their little group of dukes formed so long ago. James had been through a great deal and had believed he would never marry. Now he was with who anyone could see was his perfect match.

  Ewan refused to allow that fact to give him hope.

  “What about Simon and Graham?” he wrote. “I’ve heard from them both, of course, but what’s your assessment?”

  Baldwin answered this time, his smile wide. “It’s been about a month since they began speaking again, but they seem closer than they have been in years. Simon and Meg are scandalizing the universe with how deeply in love they are. Adelaide is still living with them, though I think it’s a fairly open secret that Graham spends most nights with her. Hence the rush to the altar as soon as the new year is here.”

  Ewan sighed with relief. He’d watched Graham suffer deeply after Simon betrayed him over the summer. That the two friends had not only repaired their breach, but had both found love and happiness as well, was something that warmed his heart.

  “As for the rest,” Matthew said, “Hugh is stalking around London, always in a poor humor. I wish he would talk to any of us about whatever is troubling him.”

  Ewan frowned. “I’ll write to Brighthollow,” he suggested. “Perhaps that would open him up.”

  “If anyone could, it would be you,” Baldwin said with a shrug. “Hell, you’re the only one Willowby keeps in contact with either, aren’t you?”

  “He used to write to Simon, too,” Ewan wrote with a sigh. “But in the past few months, I don’t think he’s written to anyone. I worry about Lucas. He’s so secretive and he hasn’t been in England for so long.”

  “My theory is that he’s a spy,” Matthew said with a wink as he downed his drink.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Baldwin chuckled, and Ewan grinned.

  “Roseford is still fucking half of London,” Matthew continued. “So some things never change.”

  Baldwin set his drink down. “And some things do. Have you heard about Kit’s father?”

  Ewan shook his head. Matthew bent his. “He’s ill. Quite ill. Kit is beside himself.”

  “Who can blame him?” Baldwin said softly. “The Duke of Kingsacre is the best of men.”

  Ewan nodded. “I’ll write to him, as well. I assume he is in the country?”

  “Yes, though I’m sure Kingsacre will encourage him to carry on with his life and his duties.” Matthew shook his head. “That’s just who he is.”

  Ewan frowned. Kingsacre had always reminded him of his uncle. Both were good and decent men. A rarity amongst the fathers of their ragged group. Most weren’t worth the paper to write their names. Luckily, their sons had found each other.

  “And that’s everyone,” Baldwin said, and his gaze snagged Ewan’s. There was something about that dark stare that made Ewan straighten a little. “Except you.”

  Ewan motioned to himself with a shake of his head.

  Baldwin’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t give me that me, who me look, Donburrow. I have a feeling you have much to tell.”

  He swallowed. Sheffield was one of his best friends—they’d been close since childhood. But in that moment, Ewan felt a wariness around him that he’d never experienced before. Slowly, he wrote, “Not much, truly. The rain disturbed the bridge, we had to do a sandbag wall. I’ll have to look into a permanent solution in the spring, so if you have any advice on that, please do share it. I’m the most boring of our group, I assure you.”

  Baldwin and Matthew read his note together, and Baldwin snorted. “That’s not what I’m talking about. What did you do to Charlotte?”

  The mood in the room shifted in an instant. Tension suddenly hung there, heavy and thick. Matthew’s eyes went wide and he slowly stepped back from the men. Not so far that he couldn’t intervene if blows were thrown. Not so close that he was involving himself or taking sides.

  Ewan swallowed hard as he wrote, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Of course you do,” Baldwin said softly. “But if you need me to spell it out, I can do so. The moment I arrived I noticed she was…ill at ease. Only you can do that to her.”

  Now Matthew stepped forward. “See here, Sheffield, I’m not sure that’s fair.”

  Baldwin kept his gaze on Ewan rather than looking at their friend. “I agree. It is not fair.”

  Ewan bent his head. Over the years, he’d never known if Baldwin was aware of the connection between Ewan and Charlotte. Of course, the world knew they were friends, their circle often smiled over the overly complicated hand language they’d created. He was certain many had their suspicions, and he would wager half his fortune that Charlotte had likely spoken of her feelings to James’s sister Meg.

  But Baldwin had always stayed outside the fray. He’d never brought up the subject.

  Now he had, and his face was…hard. Protective. Like Ewan was an enemy rather than a friend. Perhaps he deserved that after the past few days. Few years. After the last lifetime.

  He cleared his throat and wrote, “I’m not trying to make Charlotte ill at ease.”

  He left his pencil to hover over the paper a moment. He wanted to say more. He knew he likely needed to say more. But the words wouldn’t come. Probably because every word that ran through his head was a confession. A plea for help. A surrender to all she desired and all he feared.

  Finally he handed the pad over. Baldwin read the words and silently handed it over to Matthew. Sheffield softened slightly. “I know,” he said. “I know you don’t want to hurt my sister. If I thought you did, I’d call you out at dawn, friend or not. But you must see that you—you are.”

  Ewan shifted. Of course he saw it. He felt it. He wore that guilt like a blanket around his shoulders.

  “I don’t know what happened between you two while you were alone here,” Baldwin continued as Matthew handed the pad back to Ewan. “But I feel a shift. I hope it might signal a new future for you both. But if it doesn’t, I hope you won’t hurt her in the process. She was hurt enough last time.”

  Ewan flinched. So Baldwin knew or had guessed about the past. About the present. He nodded slowly.

  “Excuse me.”

  The men turned, and Ewan caught his breath. Charlotte was standing at the door. Her expression was bright, untroubled, so he didn’t think she’d overheard their conversation about her. He hoped she hadn’t.

  “Mama and the Duchess of Tyndale have decided to take a rest, so I was thinking that this might be a good time to go into town.”

  Baldwin cocked his head. “Why?”r />
  “Well, unlike you lot, I’ve not been out in the house for the past few days. I wouldn’t mind seeing that the world still exists outside these walls. And I made some promises of wooden swords and dollies that I’d like to keep.”

  Baldwin and Matthew exchanged a look of confusion and Ewan smiled at Charlotte. Of course she would wish to keep her word to the children. With Boxing Day coming up so soon, it made sense to bring her offerings to his tenants’ children on the same day he brought his other gifts to them.

  He nodded and signed to her, “I will accompany you if you wish to go.”

  “Ewan agrees,” she translated. “Are you two willing or are you tired of town?”

  “A bit tired, actually. Baldwin, what say you to a game of billiards?” Matthew replied. He smiled, but Ewan saw the tension still on his face. He was playing peacemaker, putting space between Baldwin and Ewan so the battle between them wouldn’t transform into damage that might not be repaired so easily.

  After the past few months with Simon and Graham broken apart, no one wanted that.

  Baldwin stared at Charlotte and back to Ewan. Then he nodded. “I prefer billiards, as well. You two enjoy, though. I assume you’ll be back in time for luncheon if Mama asks.”

  “I would think so,” Charlotte said. “It’s only a few things I must pick up.” Ewan nodded and her face lit up. “Excellent. I’ll have Smith fetch my wrap and my gloves and I’ll be ready.”

  She spun from the room and Ewan couldn’t help but watch as she did so. He was so focused on her departure, he didn’t realize Baldwin had stepped up to him until his hand closed around Ewan’s upper arm. Ewan turned, his heart throbbing as he stared at his friend.

  Baldwin’s voice was gentle as he said, “Just try not to hurt her. Better yet, don’t hurt yourself. It seems your hearts are tied together, so I know there is not one heartbreak without the other.” He patted Ewan on the arm and then said, “Come, Tyndale. I’m ready to make you look a fool at billiards.”

  “Unkind!” Matthew said with a laugh even as he speared Ewan with a look that told him this subject would be discussed again. Then Matthew followed Baldwin out the door, leaving Ewan alone.

  He sighed. Somehow he’d thought that having the others here would put a kind of buffer between himself and Charlotte. Instead, everyone seemed to see the connection between them and wanted to encourage it.

  And he was about to be alone with her once again. A recipe for disaster that he had to avoid. For both their sakes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte clung to Ewan’s hand as she stepped from the carriage. The town of Donburrow was a bustling place, with a thriving inn for travelers, several shops and a village of residents who all seemed to pause to tip their hats to the duke.

  She smiled at the deference they showed, though there was part of her that was frustrated. Here Ewan believed he was seen as damaged by all who met him, but his people clearly respected him. His friends adored him. It was like the negative things said and done to him held so much weight that he tossed the positive aside.

  Including her.

  She sucked in a breath. She was not going to go down that road in her mind. She’d been very careful to be benign on her topics of conversation on the half an hour ride to town. She’d wanted to launch herself into his arms, but had resisted. They’d spoken on the weather and the holiday and compared news of all their friends.

  It had been comfortable and normal. Just as she’d intended it to be, in the hopes that he would see how easy their connection could be. How easy and normal their life could be.

  “Swords and dollies,” she said, sliding a hand into his elbow and squeezing gently. “Lead the way.”

  He saluted her with his free hand and they meandered their way up the street to a general shop called Griffin’s Emporium. He opened the door for her and the little bell above jangled as they stepped into the warmth. She tugged her gloves off and tucked them into her reticule as she looked around her with a smile.

  It wasn’t a fine shop like those in London, but it was lovely and cozy, with a wide variety of items within. She moved through the tables of merchandise, fingering a rim of a hat here and picking up a book there.

  She felt Ewan watching her, but she refused to return the gaze. Let him watch. Let him long as she was longing.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” came a voice behind her. She turned to watch a thin man come out from the back of the shop. He had a curling mustache and a hawkish stare that flitted from Ewan to her as he came with hand outstretched to Ewan.

  “What an honor to have you here, Your Grace. An honor!”

  Charlotte pursed her lips slightly at the slavish tone of voice the man used. Deferent to the point of boot licking, and the same one she’d heard used toward her brother, her father, her husband and all her brother’s friends over the years. Some with a title might like it, but it had always been like nails on a chalkboard for her.

  Ewan scribbled something on his pad and the man glanced down at it. Charlotte thought she caught a tiny sniff of disgust that he hid as he said, “Ah, Lady Portsmith, I’m Martin Griffin, proprietor of this shop for nigh thirty years. His Grace says that you are here looking for a few items for the holiday. A last-minute shopper, are you?”

  Charlotte tamped down her ill feelings about the silly man and forced a smile. “His Grace is absolutely correct. I’m actually finished with my own holiday shopping, but I’ve made some promises to the tenants on the estate that I cannot break. I’m here on the search for dolls and wooden swords. Might you have a few?”

  The man’s forehead wrinkled as if he didn’t understand. “For the tenants, you say?”

  She nodded. “Yes. There are five little girls and three boys.” She sent a glance to Ewan. “That is correct, isn’t it? I haven’t missed anyone?”

  He signed, “You are right.”

  She smiled back at the shopkeep. “I hope you have what I need.”

  He fidgeted slightly. “Well, I have a few. Let me go in the back and see how many of each I am in possession of.” He gave Ewan another look before he scurried to the back of the shop.

  Charlotte pursed her lips as she slid back toward Ewan. “Griffin is…”

  “Ridiculous,” Ewan signed with a sigh. “A leftover from my father’s time. He bends over backward, but the deference is false. But his is the general shop, so I keep up the relationship as best I can.”

  “A challenge, I’m sure,” she signed, and moved closer to him. It was impossible not to. He was a draw she couldn’t ignore. “Thank you for taking me here and enduring him.”

  Ewan held her stare for a beat, two, too long for her not to see the longing in his eyes. The same longing called her back to him, trembling for his touch and his kiss and everything else he claimed must be withheld.

  “My lady, it does seem I have what you require,” Mr. Griffin said, his voice tight behind her.

  She forced herself to break away from Ewan and smiled at the pile of toys Mr. Griffin now had laid out on the counter before him. “Oh, excellent, I’m so pleased,” she said.

  “What else can I get for you or for the duke?” the shopkeep asked.

  She was about to close out her order, but before she could, Ewan’s driver stepped into the shop. “Beg your pardon, Your Grace, but Anthony Alberts just hailed me down on the street. He wished to speak to you about the horses.”

  Ewan nodded and turned back to Charlotte. “Alberts is bringing in thoroughbreds this summer and he’s considering putting them up in my stable. I need to speak to him,” he signed.

  “Of course,” she responded as she reached out to squeeze his hand. “Take your time. I’ll shop a little more here. You can fetch me when you are finished with your business.”

  He offered her a grateful smile, then followed his driver out the door. Charlotte turned back to Mr. Griffin. “I’ll look around, if that suits you.”

  The shopkeep was watching
her through a narrowed gaze, but immediately nodded. “Of course, my lady. What an honor to have the Countess of Portsmith in my shop.”

  Charlotte barely held back a sigh as she began to peruse the variety of items around her. Most were not anything she could use or gift to anyone else, but she kept her eyes on the merchandise so as not to encourage a depth of conversation with Mr. Griffin.

  That did not seem to stop him from edging around the room as she did, staying in her line of sight at all times. She was ready to simply leave and go to the milliner’s when she caught sight of an item in the jewelry case that made her stop. It was a silver notebook, one that could be refilled with paper. The detail work on it was lovely, with swirls and crests.

  “May I see that piece there?” she asked, pointing at the item behind the glass.

  “Certainly, my lady,” he agreed, and slid the case open to pull the notebook out. “Sterling, you know. A fine item. Fine enough for any lord or lady.”

  She ignored his prattling and picked it up. It was a rather large piece, but would likely fit perfectly in Ewan’s hand. She opened it. There was paper inside and a small space for a pencil.

  “It’s lovely,” she said. “Do you do engraving?”

  Griffin was watching her, and he seemed taken aback by the question. “I could manage that, of course. I assume you’d like it delivered by Boxing Day?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He arched a brow. “That would cost a bit extra, for the trouble.”

  She lifted her gaze to him and found him smirking at her. Her dislike for the man grew. “That would be fine. May I write to you what I’d like engraved?”

  “Of course,” he said, pulling from beneath the counter a sheet of paper and a quill pen with a bottle of ink. “Take your time.”

  She stared at the blank page and then scribbled a few words before she handed it back. She watched Griffin read over what she’d said and his eyes widened. She blushed, for her private message to Ewan was now intruded upon by this grasping little man.