The Heart of a Duke (7 page)

“How, pray tell, does a blockade benefit a transatlantic shipping company?” She could not hide her bafflement in response to his curious words.

Daniel faced Julia, a spark of interest lighting his eyes, and his smile broadened. “You are aware of my company? Curtis Shipping?”

She shifted in her seat, not willing to admit to having avidly scoured the morning papers for news on Curtis Shipping.

Her father rescued her from a reply. “Don’t let her skirts fool you. Julia’s head for business is more keen than mine. She and my bailiff ran Taunton Court the year following my wife’s death. I . . . Well, I was not as focused on matters as I ought to have been.”

Pleased at his praise, Julia smiled at her father. When her eyes met Daniel’s, she was surprised to see a shadow darkening his features as he twirled his wine glass in his hand, staring into the liquid depths.

“Grief does take its toll. I am sorry for your loss, sir, but you are fortunate that Lady Julia was able to step in and manage matters. Not many would be able to do so. Not because of your gender, but rather your age.” He smiled at her, quick to allay her protest as he continued. “Five years ago, you had barely turned eighteen. That is very young to have shouldered such responsibility. I am impressed.” He dipped his head and lifted his glass in a toast. “As to your earlier question, you are very perceptive. Curtis Shipping did not benefit from the blockade, but rather the end of it.”

“How so?” her father asked, leaning forward.

“While it was in place, Britain was starved of American goods such as timber, cotton, and tobacco. During the war, my partner, Brett Curtis, and I cultivated relationships with the New England mill owners as well as the tobacco and cotton farmers riddling the south. We invested in a fleet of ships so when the blockade ended, we were poised to take advantage of the renewal of trade between the countries.” Daniel grinned. “We exported the coveted goods, and the relationship benefited both parties, unlike the war.”

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant,” her father said, admiration lighting his eyes. “Someone should have profited from that quagmire of a war.” Mirroring Daniel’s earlier gesture, he raised his glass in a toast. “Considering our poor harvest last year, your arrival home is fortuitous.”

Daniel looked bemused. “Is there a correlation between exports and agriculture?”

“No. But there is a need for someone with a keen eye for accessing successful business ventures as well as reading those that are less profitable. You appear to possess an aptitude for both.”

Puzzled, Daniel turned to Julia for further explanation, but her father’s words equally baffled her. “I thought Lady Julia has managed—”

“It is not for me. I do not need assistance, but I am concerned that your brother does.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Julia saw Daniel’s smile falter, and she hastened to smooth over the impact of her father’s words. “Daniel has no experience in running estates. I am not sure—”

“Running a company is not so different from running an estate,” her father said, cutting her off. “There are men to manage, finances to be addressed, products to be obtained whether they are acquired through mills or farming.” He paused and his eyes narrowed on Daniel. “Have you visited Bedford Hall yet?”

“No,” Daniel replied after a slight hesitation. “To be honest, I was just discussing with Robbie Tanner my plans for the duration of my visit. Bedford Hall came up, but Robbie informed me that my brother is away hunting in Kent.”

“Yes,” the earl conceded. “However, that might be to your advantage, as Bedford is proprietary about his estate and has a right to be. That being said, you are family and Julia is his fiancée. As such, I doubt your visiting the property should arouse his ire. If you combined your keen head for business with Julia’s talent for estate management, the two of you can assess matters, or at least determine the root of the tenants’ concerns that have come to my attention. Together you can present your findings to Bedford and get the man to listen, as he refuses to do with me. Of course, Emily will join you as well.”

Julia stared at her father, but when she glanced at Daniel, he appeared as stunned as she.

Daniel recovered more quickly, for a dazzling smile split his handsome features. “That’s a brilliant idea, I’d be delighted to assess matters with Lady Julia and help in any capacity that I can. That is, if she is willing to accept my assistance and my company.” He lifted a brow, awaiting her response.

He appeared thoroughly amused at her quandary.

She also recognized a challenging gleam in his eyes, as if he were tossing a gauntlet at her feet. She met his gaze straight on, for she was no coward. While wary of any joint venture with Daniel, Bedford Hall was to be her home—that is if her Damn Duke ever set a wedding date. Taunton had shared with her the grievances of Edmund’s tenants. When she had questioned Edmund about the matter, he had assured her that the estate was turning a profit, and he had dismissed the matter with a haughty wave of his hand.

While she had not been successful, she balked at the idea of Daniel waltzing back, and like Homer’s
Odyssey
, setting everything to rights after a decade away. As if he was the only one who could.

She had managed Taunton Court for nearly two years. She could take care of Bedford Hall once she was married. If working with Daniel gave her a rare opportunity to assess what she would be facing, she would not squander it. She lifted her chin and snatched up the gauntlet. “Maybe Lord Bryant and I can talk to a few tenants and get a better understanding of their needs. They might speak more freely without Edmund’s presence, and once we have gathered some information, we can share it with Edmund.” Anticipation filled her at the prospect of doing something active. Finally.

“Good, then it is settled.” Her father appeared pleased. “Now then, I believe it is time for port. If you ladies will excuse us, I promise to keep an eye on the prisoner until your return,” he grinned.

“You might want to curtail Lord Bryant’s walk down the plank if you need his assistance for the foreseeable future,” Emily added as she stood with Julia.

“You are right. After a lesson on table manners, I will teach Jonathan the meaning of clemency.”

“I am indebted to you for your mercy,” Daniel said, his eyes on Julia. His gaze swept over her bare collarbones and dipped to linger briefly upon the round curves of her breasts.

His look left her breathless, as if she had run up a flight of stairs, and her resolve momentarily wavered. Had she been too hasty in agreeing to this idea? No, she had not. Together they could accomplish so much, and her growing anticipation reaffirmed her decision. It was the right one.

In the future, she would simply dress more appropriately.

D
ANIEL
did not know how the stars had aligned so that the next morning he found himself riding with the Chandler siblings to Bedford Hall. It was like Christmas morning had arrived early, and he had been given a precious gift.

Julia’s straight-backed figure rode sidesaddle ahead, Jonathan beside her on his pony. She wore a sky blue riding habit and a bonnet set at a jaunty angle on her head with a scattering of flowers adorning its rim.

As he admired her competent handling of Constance, he mulled over how to get into her good graces. He needed to do so in order to decipher her true feelings for his brother. He could then determine the best way to tell Julia her fiancé was a coldhearted, good-for-nothing bastard. She’d be better off ruined through the scandal of a broken engagement than through marriage to him.

Such news had to be delivered delicately.

He shrugged off his misgivings. Julia was a strong woman. She would weather the news. Her management of her father’s estates demonstrated her courage and strength.

An image of her blazing blue eyes and stinging slap had him shifting in his saddle and flexing his jaw, his confidence wavering.

So much for Christmas morning. Truth be told, his Christmases had never been all that grand, because they were spent with his father and Edmund. Why the devil should this be any better if he were given a present that he could never touch, let alone ever unwrap?

“You are scowling. Are you having doubts already?”

He jumped to find Julia beside him. “I am not allowed second thoughts, because I have been threatened with the dungeon should I fail. Worse, I am to be deprived of iced pudding and apple tarts.”

“I see. Dire repercussions indeed.” The twitch to her lips belied her somber tone. “’Tis a pity that we are finally at peace, and yet you remain a prisoner of a war that ended nigh on five years ago.”

“Perhaps my timing was not as fortuitous as your father believes.” He grinned. “Speaking of wars, peace, and my arrival, I am afraid we got off to a poor start with each other. I would like to make amends for that, as I am sorry for it.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her features, and her gaze shot to Emily, who was pointing something out to Jonathan, oblivious to their exchange.

Daniel lowered his voice and pressed on. “I’d like it if we could begin again. This venture is important to both of us. You are protecting what will be your future, and I suppose I am safeguarding my past, or more specifically, my father’s legacy. For our venture to succeed, we need to work together. If I promise to behave and try not to—”

“I understand. So a new beginning for the sake of what we find at Bedford Hall?” She appeared to ponder his words. “It might be wise to consider one for the sake of our future relations as well. After all, we will be brother and sister.”

His hand shot up to cover his sudden spasm of coughs.
Over his dead body.
But he held his tongue. No point in negotiating an issue that might be rendered moot.

She looked at him strangely, clarifying her meaning. “Well, one does not . . .” Her words tapered off and a pink flame streaked the slim column of her neck. “That is, sisters and brothers do not . . .”

“I understand.” Unfortunately, he did. All too well. “So shall we begin again?”

“I can agree to that,” Julia replied, looking relieved at his steering them back on topic. “Yes, I would like that. That is if you stop behaving like a—”

“And I agree to that.” He did not let her finish. Her words might include
arrogant
,
brazen
, or
arse
. None of which were diplomatic
or
flattering.

“Well, then. Welcome home, Daniel. It’s been too long.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, and when he returned her smile, something hummed between them. An awareness of each other that hovered in the air like a warm breeze. For a few moments, he savored the connection, which was severed when Julia tore her gaze from his.

“Is it strange to be traveling over familiar ground after so many years away?”

Distracted over thoughts of Julia and Edmund, Daniel had paid little heed to the countryside they traversed. He stared out over the lush, verdant rolling hills where splashes of sunlight created pools of yellow and gold on the lush green carpet. His family seat was situated north of the Earl of Taunton’s property in Bedford, with Lakeview Manor dividing the neighboring estates.

The familiar scents of sun-warmed grass, hay, and crisp fresh air brought back a rush of memories. His father’s love of the land had been a tangible thing, a coat he wore like a second skin and bequeathed to his sons. Years later, the rich timbre of his father’s voice resonated in Daniel’s memories, his pride palpable as he recounted their family’s centuries-old connection to it.

The Duke of Bedford’s title had been created and rendered extinct several times. Throughout the centuries, their fortunes had risen and fallen depending on the whims of the monarch wielding power. It was not until the seventeenth century, after the Glorious Revolution and its overthrow of the Catholic King James II, that their title was secured. Their support of the protestant William III on the throne had solidified their hold to the title, securing it for successive generations. Securing it for Edmund.

For Edmund to squander.

Or mishandle or whatever the hell he had done to it. “It is strange to be back, but pleasant, too. Being the spare heir, my connection to the land was different from my father and Edmund’s, but I always felt it was strong. My father deeply ingrained his love and respect for the land and our heritage into both of us.” He had neglected to ensure they cared for one another, but he had looked out for the land. “So what has happened over the years with Edmund and his estate? Has he lost that?”

Julia’s blue eyes darkened. “I don’t know too much about the past five years, other than to say that the tenants’ discontent has been vocal enough to reach my father. The first few years, difficulties arose from neglect. After Edmund inherited the title and you sailed for America, Edmund left for London and rarely returned. It was as if he were avoiding home.” Her voice softened. “As you said last night, grief takes its toll. I have witnessed that with both my father and Emily.”

He clenched his jaw so tight, he feared it might crack. Edmund’s mourning of their father had involved a fortnight of drunken revelry. He doubted his own departure had warranted a backward glance.

“A bailiff oversaw the estate, so things weren’t perfect, but they weren’t totally neglected.”

“So he was mourning in London?” He struggled to keep his voice neutral, realized he had failed when Julia shot him a look.

“For the first few years, yes. I think . . . well, I believe that like my father, he was afraid to accept his responsibilities. It is not uncommon—”

“Your father?”

“My mother said my father also escaped to town when he inherited his title. He was a bit of a rake when she first met him, sowing his wild oats before donning the heavy mantle of an earl, so to speak. My mother eventually quite reformed him of his wicked ways.” Pride laced her words.

“I have no doubt she turned him into a veritable saint,” he murmured distractedly, her comment stirring up a wave of old memories. One after another tumbled over each other.

He saw Julia as a young girl, her hair a mop of wild and windblown curls and her cheeks dirt smudged. She was saving a collie, the runt of the litter, from a drowning. In another, she was pleading with him to help her make a nest for a wounded thrush. Later she had wheedled him into freeing a rabbit ensnared in a trap belonging to Weasel, Bedfordshire’s notorious poacher. And Daniel had. How odd. Even as a girl, when she turned those beseeching blue eyes on him, he hadn’t been able to resist her.

Some things never changed.

He studied her profile, noting the wistful smile that curved her lips as if she were lost in nostalgic memories of her parents.

He stilled and it was as if someone had sucked the air from his lungs.

Good God, is Julia planning to save Edmund as her mother had reformed her father?

He drew back on his reins, bringing Chase, the chestnut stallion he had procured from Robbie, to a stop.

Surprised, Julia glanced back at him and slowed her own mount, her expression one of concern. “Daniel?”

They both ignored Emily and Jonathan, who continued on. “Is that what you are hoping to do?”

“Excuse me?” Julia looked at him as if he had spoken in a foreign tongue.

“Do you hope to reform a rake?” He cocked a brow at her, daring her to refute his claim.

Her lips parted and she leaned away. They stared at each other in a silence that lengthened uncomfortably between them. Finally, her chin jutted in a familiar stubborn thrust. “People can and do change.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are an example of that. Are you the same man that left home a decade ago?”

He stifled the urge to press a hand to his chest, for her point had struck its mark. It was painful, for the answer was no. No, he most certainly was not. He was a far cry from the runt who had fled for his life. He did not like to concede that, for it begged the question that if he was a different man from the one who had left, his brother might be, too. Or to acknowledge that with Julia’s help, his brother could change.

For if anyone could save someone, Julia could. She had saved her father, his estate, and Emily, just as she had rescued the wounded animals in her childhood. It took a strong and loyal woman to do that.

Could her strength change Edmund? Her loyalty save him?

No. Every bone in his body, once bruised and battered from years under Edmund’s fists, screamed a denial. Cruelty was not an item like clothing that one outgrew, or a trait easily shed like a second skin, but rather an attribute inherent to a person and which grew and matured with them. Or so Daniel believed.

Ten years was a long time, and Daniel could not in good conscience malign his brother until he had determined for himself if Edmund
had
changed. He had to judge his brother on the man he was today, not the man he had left behind. He did not like it, but for Julia’s sake, he would try to do so.

“Yes. People do change.” He spoke in a curt, clipped tone, as if each word was wrenched from him under torture. “So then, who is there for you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Her smile wavered.

“I was just wondering. Over the years, you have cared for your father, your brother, your father’s estates, and your sister. Postponing your own marriage and life to do so. Now you are going to save Edmund and help him salvage his estates. I was just wondering, who is looking out for you?”

His question appeared to disarm her, for her eyes dropped to her lap, and she tightened her hands on her reins. In protest, Constance irritably tossed her head and whinnied until Julia loosened her grip. She regrouped quickly, straightening in her saddle and responding with a calm that belied her agitation. “As you can see, I am all grown up now, and quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. Now I think we best catch up to Emily and Jonathan.” She nudged Constance into a gentle trot.

He had caught the sheen of moisture blurring her vision before she turned away. Like Achilles, even the strongest warriors had their weak points, and he cursed himself for piercing hers.

Seeking to make amends, he urged Chase abreast of Constance. “I believe your father is right, and my arrival is fortuitous. As your future brother-in-law,” he said, not choking over the words despite their bitter taste, “I will keep an eye out for you.”

“Really, that is not necessary.”

“Nevertheless, it is my pleasure to do so. As you say, we will be family, and that is what brothers do.” He could not resist tossing her own words back at her, particularly when they served his purposes so well. “Look out for their sisters—even if they can save the world on their own. Don Quixote did not conquer his windmills alone. He had his faithful squire what’s-his-name assisting him.”

Julia’s lips curved. “Sancho Panza, who was a simple farmer. Don Quixote was going off to fight
ferocious giants
, but which were windmills in reality.” She looked dubious. “That’s the best analogy you could come up with?”

“It serves my point.” He waved his hand airily. “Which is, they did it
together
.”

She looked pensive, as if giving serious consideration to his words, and then nodded. “Fine. You can be the short, squat Sancho Panza if you insist.” She tossed him an arch look, pressed her heels into Constance’s sides, and urged the mare to catch up with Emily and Jonathan, her laughter trailing behind her.

The lyrical cadence of it washed over Daniel in a warm wave, so beguiling him that it took him a few minutes before he realized he sat grinning like an idiot. He nudged Chase into a canter.

Her clever wit delighted him, but she was wrong about his analogy being poor. It was right.

Julia was the idealistic Don Quixote, mistaking a blackguard for a rake. Once again, Daniel was the cynical runt. So much for ten years of change. But like Don Quixote, the brave knight, he would look after his lady. Her momentary falter had told him, as Julia never would, that no one else had thought to do so.