Jackal (Regency Refuge Book 2)

by Heather Gray

  Gritting her teeth and forcing a smile, she swung back to the room. "As Cousin Rupert said, we'll be in London tomorrow. We can make due for one night. I'd wager the three of you will fit on the bed. The room is actually quite spacious. A pallet on the floor will be splendid. I'll be snug as a bug in a rug."

  "I can sleep on the floor," Eleanor offered. "I'm the youngest. It should be me."

  Juliana laughed. "I'm not so old I will perish if forced to sleep on the floor, dear sister. The three of you take the bed. I'll do fine. The experience will make me appreciate the comfort of a feather bed even more than I already do, I dare say."

  ****

  Rupert took a seat at a table in the tavern below. Owen and the driver joined him, and the three shared a filling meal. Few words were exchanged. They were all tired and looking forward to their rest. Because he still didn't know what the women were hiding from him, Rupert had engaged Owen's services to help him keep watch over them each night. Owen had been stationed in the hall between the doors of the ladies' two rooms the previous evening. Tonight was Rupert's turn, and he could muster little enthusiasm for the duty.

  Having already inspected the upstairs hall, Rupert knew where he would be passing the night. He'd found himself a spot that gave an unobstructed view of the girls' door while allowing him to remain in the shadows. With his dark clothes and black hair, he should go unnoticed by anyone who didn't have reason to be at that end of the hallway.

  A short time later, he waved Owen and the driver off. "Enjoy your slumber."

  After the activity in the tavern died down, Rupert took to the stairs in search of his night's post. Had he been back at Castle Felton with his leg hurting as badly as it was, he'd have taken some of Mrs. Pembroke's barley tea to ease the discomfort. Here at the inn, pain medication came more in the form of tincture of brandy, which wouldn't at all aid his need to remain on the alert throughout the coming night.

  One thing was certain. The constant battle not to let the pain get the best of him was exhausting.

  Chapter Eleven

  Juliana heard something out of place, but she'd gotten used to unfamiliar noises over the last several nights. Inns didn't offer the most restful sleep. Sharing a room with Mrs. Burnham had proven distracting, too. The old woman's snore could drown out a stampede of bleating sheep.

  The sound came again, and Juliana shifted on her pallet, wondering if perhaps, in her current position, she was hearing an echo in the chamber. Accepting the fact that she wasn't actually going to fall asleep, she sat up and leaned her back against the stone wall. She tugged on her braid, a nervous habit, when the door to their chamber began to creep open.

  Terror froze in her throat until she couldn't even scream. She watched as two people entered and moved slowly toward the blissfully unaware forms of her sleeping family. Realizing her sisters were at risk, she jumped to her feet.

  Finding her voice at last, Juliana screamed loud as a banshee and seized Mrs. Burnham's cane from where it rested at the foot of the bed. She hit one of the men on the back. He grunted, and she took another full swing. Once begun, she continued hammering at the prowler. By that time, both Eleanor and Eudora had jumped out of bed. They squatted, huddled together, against the wall beneath the window.

  The intruder rounded on her and grabbed the cane, wrenching it from her grasp and flinging it to the floor. She watched, almost mesmerized, as the man lifted his fist. As the beefy appendage began descending toward her, she came out of her daze. Juliana ducked away from the descending fist and spun around behind him then jumped onto his back and sank her teeth into his shoulder. She got a mouthful of coarse and foul-tasting material, and the ruffian acted as if she'd not attacked him at all.

  A crash echoed through the room, and the intruder on whose back she was perched began to tumble forward. An arm reached round her waist from behind, pulling her from the brute's back. She expected to be tossed aside but instead found herself cushioned against a solid chest as Rupert's voice rumbled near her ear. "It's over. You're all safe."

  Juliana's racing heart and ragged breath gave no indication of calming. She forced herself to look around, though, which is how she discovered her sisters standing against the far wall. Mrs. Burnham stood between the downed intruder and the girls, the remnants of a shattered chamber pot in her hands. The rest of the pot lay scattered about the floor, the apparent cause of the large man's sudden loss of consciousness. He groaned but didn't move.

  Eudora pointed to something behind her. The second prowler was as unconscious as the first. Outside the open door, in the hallway, lay another man. Above him stood several men in varying states of undress. Her face heated as her eyes returned to Rupert. "Perhaps my scream woke some people."

  He nodded sagely. "That may be." Then he leaned close, his lips brushing against her ear. In a voice soft enough that she alone could hear, he said, "If I were forced to hazard a guess, I'd say Mrs. Burnham's snoring prevented any of them from getting to sleep to begin with."

  The innkeeper arrived on the scene then, wielding a gun and demanding to know what all the ruckus was about. Rupert set Juliana down and gave her a light push toward her sisters. She felt the absence of his reassuring warmth but did as he bade. Meanwhile, he maneuvered himself so that his back was to them. He filled the doorway, blocking the eyes of anyone who wished to gain a view into the room. "It appears we had some intruders. Take these three men down to the tavern and tie them up, then send someone for the magistrate."

  No one dared argue with Rupert. His voice commanded respect and demanded action. Several of the men who had gathered in the hallway after hearing the commotion set themselves to the task. As they came into the room to collect the villainous forms of the two who had made it that far, they averted their eyes and did not look at the women.

  Juliana couldn't help but grin. Between Rupert's presence and Mrs. Burnham's threatening glare, not a soul would venture to think, let alone say, anything inappropriate.

  Once the scoundrels were gone, Rupert thanked the men and told the innkeeper he would be down momentarily. Owen was already downstairs, having been summoned from the stable. There was little chance of the thugs escaping. Rupert pierced Juliana with his eyes. Those eyes, normally solemn, burned with an intensity that turned her arms into gooseflesh. "Please dress and come down to the tavern."

  A small part of her was cowed. Much as the men in the hallway had done earlier, she felt the urge to jump to do Rupert's bidding. The side of her personality that had forever been troublesome thwarted her good intentions. "We did nothing wrong."

  Rupert's look softened, and he nodded his acknowledgement of her words. "I have no wish to contradict a lady. I do, however, need to ask some questions." His gaze flitted from her to Eudora and Eleanor then back to her again. "Perhaps it would be best if we discussed this downstairs."

  Juliana wanted to drown in those eyes. They promised such hope. They said he was strong, enduring, faithful, honest, trustworthy. He was also a man who followed the law, and in this instance, that prevented him from being her ally. She gave him a brisk nod. "I'll be down straightaway."

  ****

  Juliana stepped out of their chamber and found Rupert waiting for her. "Oh. I thought you would be speaking to the men."

  He shook his head. "After the night's events, it didn't seem wise to leave the four of you unprotected."

  She warmed at his thoughtfulness even as she reminded herself he wasn't entirely on her side.

  "Once we go down, Owen will come up and stand guard until everything is resolved."

  Juliana placed her hand in the crook of Rupert's elbow. "Lead on, Cousin. I wish to embrace my inquisition with dignity."

  Rupert, whose face, as a rule, gave nothing away, frowned at her words. He moved gingerly down the stairs, and she again wondered at his injury.

  "You're in pain."

  "Aye."

  "Yet you disabled two brutes and rescued me from collapse after Mrs. Burnham knocked out the third."
r />   She saw the corner of his mouth tilt up the tiniest bit. "I would have taken care of that one, too, had you not jumped on his back and gotten in my way."

  "You might not relish how our conversation goes once we get downstairs, so before we do…" Juliana paused, still a couple steps from the tavern floor. Rupert watched her, one eyebrow raised. "I, uh… Thank you for coming to our rescue. If you hadn't been out there keeping watch over us, I'm sure things would have ended in a vastly different manner."

  He blinked, the motion languorous, and she felt devoured by his eyes. "You are quite a jewel, my dear. Nothing you say will change that."

  At a loss for words, Juliana followed Rupert's lead down the stairs, watching her step in the dim lighting.

  When she again looked up, she saw Owen speaking heatedly with the three men, all of whom had regained consciousness. The magistrate came through the front door, and the innkeeper's glare said he'd much rather be abed than paying homage to local watchmen.

  Owen stepped away from the men and approached her and Rupert, pulling Rupert aside to conduct a conversation in hushed and hurried tones. Her cousin nodded to Owen, who then took his leave and went up the stairs. Rupert spoke to the magistrate who, with the help of a couple strapping young men he'd brought with him, pulled the three intruders to their feet and began hauling them out the door.

  Rupert gave the innkeeper a coin and told him he could return to bed.

  Nervous, Juliana stood where he'd left her, her fingers tangled together in front of her.

  "Have a seat." She peeked up. The solemn face was back in place, but she was heartened that he didn't seem angry with her.

  She sat down and took her time arranging her skirts around her, another nervous habit.

  "The men claim to be in the employ of two brothers, Wilbur and Miles Stanwich. The men who came into your room were sent to take Eleanor and Eudora. Can you tell me why?"

  She shook her head.

  "Do you know why?"

  Juliana stared at the floor as she nodded.

  "Is there a reason you won't you tell me, then?"

  The moment her eyes connected with his, she knew she was in trouble. "Cousin…"

  "I wish you'd stop calling me that." His voice was harsh, but she sensed no anger in it. And his eyes, oh his eyes. They were dark with complexities she wanted to understand. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't look away.

  "You follow the law. If I tell you what's going on, you will be compelled to take action, and if you do, I'll never be able to forgive you."

  Chapter Twelve

  Rupert watched as Juliana's shoulders drooped. "Law exists to encourage people to do that which they already know to be right and noble."

  "That may be so." Her voice caught, demonstrating her internal conflict. "People sometimes say they're taking a certain action because it's what the law says, but it's actually the worst possible thing that could be done."

  He needed her to trust him. Otherwise she'd never tell him the truth of what the Stanwich brothers wanted with them. "If someone is using the law to do wrong, I won't blindly follow. You're going to have to trust me at some point. Now seems like a good enough time, does it not?"

  Emotion in various shades and hues flitted through her eyes. Suspicion, guilt, determination. Then he saw that one special look, the light he'd been hoping to see since she and the others had first arrived at Castle Felton. Hope flickered to life.

  "What happens if I tell you the truth, and you decide the best course of action is in every respect the opposite of what I believe should be done?"

  Rupert wanted to pace. As he eyed the edge of the table where he would have normally set it, he realized he'd left his cane upstairs during the earlier hubbub. "I can't promise I'll do as you wish, but I give you my word I will hear you out and take everything you have to say into consideration."

  "I want to trust you, Cousin, but there's much at stake. I can't risk making the wrong choice."

  "What happens if you do?" Hadn't he already asked her to stop calling him Cousin? They weren't cousins, not really, and the feelings she evoked in him were far removed from familial.

  "Eleanor and Eudora will spend the rest of their lives paying for my mistake if I get this wrong."

  "They might have paid for it tonight if I hadn't been there."

  Juliana's eyes sharpened with defiance. "Someone would have heard and come to our rescue."

  "Perhaps, but is that something you want to count on happening the next time?"

  "Those thugs have been arrested. There won't be a next time…" Her voice lost confidence with each syllable until it trailed off at the end.

  "If the Stanwich brothers are determined, they'll hire other men to do their bidding, or perhaps eventually come after the girls themselves." Rupert had always prided himself on being more patient than most. That trait had served him well in his previous life and in his service to the duke since. His patience nonetheless wore thin with Juliana. Her fears needed to be put to rest, but her tenacious desire to keep him in the dark was enough to try a saint.

  "Uncle-Fitz-lost-his-mind-and-signed-betrothal-contracts-for-my-sisters." Juliana's mumbled words were barely audible. Rupert stared at her for a full minute before his brain organized what she'd said into some semblance of understandable speech.

  "The girls are betrothed to the brothers?"

  Juliana, misery etched into every defeated line of her face, nodded. "They're horrid, foul, terrible men! Uncle Fitz never even told us! It wasn't until after he died the solicitor informed us of the betrothals. Our uncle betrayed us, and the best explanation is his insanity, because… because if he had his wits about him when he signed those contracts, then we never knew him at all!"

  Rupert was a man of few words by choice. Being at a complete loss for what to say was new to him. This conversation, though, had effectively robbed him of his tongue. "Insanity?"

  Juliana's eyes brimmed with tears. "The last year was awful. Uncle Fitz had always been such a calm and loving person, and we adored him, but something went wrong in his mind. He would cry for no reason, or start ranting at us about things that didn't make any sense."

  She looked at him with helpless vulnerability in her eyes. "He yelled at Eleanor one day because she wore a blue morning dress. Blue was the color of demons and she was never to wear blue again, he ranted. The next day she wore green, and he started crying about how she'd turned against him, cursing him by refusing to wear blue, his favorite color. None of it made sense. Uncle Fitz had loved and protected us for years, giving us a safe place to call home. Over the last year, he simply lost his mind. We watched him fall further and further into insanity, and there wasn't anything we could do about it."

  "Did you consult a doctor?"

  "The local physician bled him. It offered him no relief from his illness. We tried different teas one of the village women recommended, but it kept getting worse."

  "Were there any other symptoms?"

  Juliana's brow crinkled as she examined him. "He didn't sleep anymore, and we blamed his emotional unrest, so we tried laudanum to help him sleep, but even then, he remained agitated." A knot formed in Rupert's stomach as Juliana continued to recite Uncle Fitz's symptoms. "He was often hot with fever. Even when he wasn't feverish, though, his skin got red, and his brow would sweat profusely. The doctor said those were all the result of his heightened emotional state."

  "Why didn't anybody contact me?"

  "I tried, blast it!" Juliana's eyes suddenly grew wide, and her face paled. She apparently wasn't accustomed to using such indelicate language. Her voice softer, she said, "I found your direction in Uncle's books, but the letters I sent to Rupert Birmingham never garnered a response. I even placed advertisements in an attempt to locate you."

  Her eyes were hard as steel as she continued. "Sometime later, the solicitor told us he'd found you using the name Douglas Rupert. By then it was too late. Uncle Fitz was already dead, and so was Cousin William. It's not fair, I tell you
. It's not fair! They were all the family we had left, and now they're gone, and we didn't get to say a proper farewell to either of them."

  The tears fell freely down Juliana's cheeks. Rupert reached out and used a gentle touch to wipe her tears away with the pad of his thumb. Her skin, soft and warm, was alluring against the rough texture of his own.

  "Tell me about the brothers."

  "They're old and lecherous."

  Rupert smiled at her churlishness. "I need more to go on."

  Juliana crossed her arms. "They're twins, and they're eighty if they're a day. They've been leering at the girls since Eudora began… well, for a while now."

  Since Eudora began developing… Rupert filled in the missing words, and he didn't relish where they led him. "And you knew nothing of these betrothals until after Fitz died?"

  She nodded.

  "After the solicitor told you about it, did you search Fitz's study? Did you find any evidence of betrothal contracts in there?"

  "I searched everywhere I could think of. I tore the place apart. I even went through his bedchamber and searched his bureau and wardrobe. I found nothing about the betrothals."

  Rupert stood and began pacing. It was difficult without his cane, but he placed his hand on each chair back he passed. "You are going to go upstairs and get as much sleep as you can. Tomorrow we'll arrive in London. The day after, I will meet with somebody I asked to check into Fitz's death."

  "Wh-why would you want to check into his death?"

  He weighed the pros and cons of explaining his suspicions to her and decided, for now, to keep it vague. "I need to make sure the succession for the earldom is properly handled. Am I indeed the next in line? That sort of thing." He had no doubt about it, but he needed time to evaluate the situation. "Part of checking on the succession is confirming Fitz's manner of death. Legal documents have to be filed, and I want to address all the questions that may arise."

  Juliana pursed her lips. "And the betrothals. What will you do about those?"