The Heart of a Duke (8 page)

His brave, beautiful warrior had been on her own far too long. It was time someone looked after her, for like poor Cervantes’s illustrious knight, she was in for a painful awakening once her illusions were shattered.

S
INCE
its founding, Bedfordshire had been predominately a county of agriculture. The Dukes of Bedford and their tenant farmers had planted the age-old staple products of wheat, barley, and oats. Sheep and cattle grazed the grounds until the sheep were sheered in May. Drovers then herded the sheep and cattle to sell them off at the market before winter. Being mid-September, the farmers had finished harvesting most of the fields, and those that they had ridden past were in the process of being plowed.

Ploughboys dotted the carpet of brown fields, laboring to drive the plough in straight lines and break up the ground in preparation to be harrowed. Straw hats protected their heads from the sun, but its blinding rays stretched like long talons, plastering their shirts to their bent frames. Streaks of sweat drenched their backs and transformed white cotton shirts to a brownish-gray.

Daniel’s father had directed servants to the fields with water and treats to alleviate the monotony of the tedious task. Daniel squinted down the dirt road curving like a beige ribbon between the fields and up the hill toward Bedford Hall. He frowned at the emptiness meeting the eye all the way to the horizon line.

“It’s awfully warm, and I do not see any water barrels,” Julia said. “I packed some parcels that include bread and cheese, but I believe thirst would be their priority.” Julia echoed his thoughts.

“Let us continue on. See if we can determine if anyone is bringing something out, or if they are due to take a break soon.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t speak to Edmund’s bailiff? Shouldn’t he view the grounds with us?”

There was a good reason Edmund’s bailiff was not accompanying them. Depending on his size, or more important, his awareness of Daniel and Edmund’s relationship, Daniel could not risk being tossed off the estate. His departure might not be feetfirst or in one piece. Riding would be difficult with broken bones.

He decided against sharing his dilemma with Julia. “The bailiff, like Edmund, might hinder the tenants from speaking freely, particularly if the aim of our visit is to encourage them to voice their concerns without fear of repercussion.”

Julia considered his words and nodded. “They might not be willing to speak to us either, which is why I packed some of Cook’s treats.” She grinned. “Bribery does wonders to loosen one’s tongue, as do Cook’s sugar biscuits.”

Seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes, he smiled. He was not the only one who understood the need for subterfuge and guile to gain the tenants’ trust. Combining their talents might be more successful than he had anticipated. “I remember those biscuits. One bite should dissolve any misgivings about our visit. Nothing says ‘we come in peace’ better than sugar biscuits.”

“Let us hope they are as easily bribed as you. You always had a sweet tooth as a boy. Last night, I learned that has not changed.”

“Some things aren’t worth changing.” He smiled, unrepentant.

“Eating four slices of Cook’s cheesecake for example?” Julia looked dubious.

“Most definitely,” Daniel agreed, pleased she had noticed his overindulgence. That she had noticed him, period. Which wasn’t right. He had no need of her noticing anything about him. That was not the future of their friendship. He would be wise to remember that.

They rode on, bypassing the fields. Eventually they turned onto the lane of small, rustic houses leased to Bedford’s tenants.

The color had been bleached out of the area, leaving the somber earth tones of beige, sandy wheat, and brown umber. The ubiquitous wildflowers, spilling over the grounds of most English homes, were absent. The houses sat in a row like square-box sentries, bleak, weather-beaten, and enshrouded in a stillness and silence so complete it deafened.

He frowned, recalling from his childhood the cries of children, laundry flapping on clotheslines, dogs barking, and chickens squawking as they dodged the horses’ powerful hooves. It was as if another scene had been painted over the one he remembered, the transformation so complete.

On medieval English maps, mapmakers marked those areas that reach beyond the perimeters of their known world, “here be dragons.” He had an urge to peer around for those dragons, but he wouldn’t find them here. The beast was hunting in Kent.

Disturbed, he drew back on the reins and eased Chase to a stop. “Let us continue on foot.”

Dismounting, he led Chase over to a split rail fence, tying him securely. He assisted the others to dismount, careful not to linger with his hands around Julia’s waist.

Despite his intentions, he could not resist inhaling her fresh and clean scent before forcing himself to step back. He directed her to tie her horse with Emily’s and Jonathan’s to a birch tree away from Chase and downwind from his scent.

They had finished securing the horses, when Jonathan’s cry rang out. “Something hit me!” He clutched his back.

Daniel whirled, his body tense, his senses alert. Catching sight of an apple rolling along the ground, he relaxed. He searched for the source of the apple’s launch, and caught a flash of movement in a nearby tree.

“This means war.” Jonathan bellowed and dashed toward the offender.

Cursing under his breath, Daniel bolted after the boy. Catching up to him, he hooked his arm around Jonathan’s waist and hoisted him onto his hip. “Hold up there, Captain. We are trespassing on someone else’s property, and they have a right to protect it.”

“They fired without warning.” Like an entrapped snake, Jonathan protested and wiggled in Daniel’s grip.

Daniel cursed the legacy of a war-weary country. Despite being at peace for over five years, fighting a war on two fronts had left its brand on past generations and clearly had made inroads into future ones as well.

“Go away! We don’t want no more bloomin’ foreigners stealing our jobs. And we ain’t payin’ no more higher rents.”

“We come in peace.” Daniel called out, keeping his tone conciliatory. “And we bear gifts.” He arched his hand over his eyes to protect it from the sun’s glare as he peered up into the dark web of branches.

“You sound American, for isn’t that how the Pilgrims greeted the Indians?” Julia murmured.

“If so, they were soon feasting together.” He spoke as quietly as she. “That tree is laden with apples, so there’s hope for us. Unless our loose cannon gets free,” he hissed under his breath, shifting Jonathan onto his shoulders. “See anyone from that vantage point?”

“No sign of the enemy yet,” Jonathan yelled back.

Julia covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Daniel was about to ask her if she planned to enjoy the show or assist in diffusing the war, when a pair of spindly legs in beat-up boots dangled from the tree and dropped to the ground.

A young girl sprawled in the dirt. Springing to her feet, she tugged down her skirts and her dust-covered apron. She straightened her mobcap, two black braids swinging beneath it. She appeared to be around seven or eight years old. “You sure you ain’t no good for nothin’, grotty Irish eejits here to nick our jobs and the food out of our bellies?” Her eyes blazed in dark fury, her small fists raised.

“Cor, she needs a tongue washing,” Jonathan giggled.

“Shh.” He squeezed Jonathan’s calf. The girl’s anger had been stoked by a parent’s bitter ire, voiced without censure.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. If the girl’s words were to be believed, it involved raised rents and the hiring of Irish laborers. Before he had left America, there were signs of Irish immigrants moving into the mills populating New England. Undoubtedly, they sought a warmer welcome across the Atlantic, for the roots of the animosity between the Irish and English were planted centuries ago and dug deep.

Julia stepped forward. “I assure you we are as English as you, and as Lord Bryant says, we come bearing food. I am Lady Julia Chandler, and you are?”

The girl gaped at Julia, her eyes midnight black and enormous. They roamed over them, until they pinned Jonathan in an accusatory glare.

“He is harmless. But should he get out of hand, I will tie him up with the horses,” Daniel promised, his expression solemn.

“Will not,” Jonathan squealed, kicking out.

“Will, too,” Daniel shot back, trapping his legs with a gloved hand and winking at the girl.

A giggle escaped. “Blimey, you don’t sound like no Irish eejits. You be a lord, like yonder damn duke?”

Jonathan hooted. “Now she’s done it! She’ll be swallowing soapsuds for sure.”

“Beatrice. Beatrice Alice Mabry!” a voice thundered, causing the girl to freeze and hunch her shoulders.

The deep baritone belonged to a large man with lined, weatherworn features, who hastened over. His hair and eyes were as black as his daughter’s and just as cold as they leveled on their group. He carried a large spade and wore dirt-stained overalls. He planted a protective hand over the girl’s shoulders.

“Your Grace.” A tic vibrated in his cheek, a telltale sign he struggled to cap the anger the young girl could not. “I apologize for my daughter. Beatrice can be outspoken.” He cleared his throat, but forged on. “Can I assist you with anything? Your bailiff was down here last week and spoke to us about the vacant houses.” He jerked his head down the street.

While curious to hear what the man had to say, Daniel had learned from Julia that people did not like to be deceived. “I am sorry, I am His Grace’s twin, Lord Bryant, and I have recently returned after years abroad.”

The man scrutinized Daniel’s features, and his grip on his daughter’s shoulder relaxed. Something flared in his eyes, a recognition. The tension gripping him eased, and his smile was tentative. “Lord Bryant, welcome home.”

Daniel caught the hint of warmth coloring his tone. He had always been on friendlier terms with the tenants, Edmund keeping his ducal distance. From their polar opposite welcomes, it was clear that some things had not changed.

“Lady Julia, my brother’s lovely fiancée; her sister, Lady Emily; along with their younger brother, Lord Jonathan, have graciously accompanied me on this visit, because Bedford is in Kent on a hunting trip.” He tried to look apologetic. “I am afraid, my impatience got the better of me, and I could not wait for his return. Is your offer of assistance still open?”

“Of course.” Worry darkened his eyes. “But my wife be sick. I can’t leave her for long. She—”

“Please, Mr. . . . ?” Julia interceded, stepping forward, her expression concerned.

“Mabry, Tim Mabry, and this here is my Beatrice.”

“I’m just Bea,” his daughter corrected. “’Cause I can sting like a bee,” she proclaimed.

Having weathered her sting, Daniel’s lips twitched at the apt name.

“I’m Jonathan ’cause . . . ’cause that’s what my father named me. Can I get down?” He bounced excitedly on Daniel’s shoulders. “I want to climb Just Bea’s tree, scout for Irish eejits, and fire apples at them.”

Daniel ducked his head to hide his snicker as he lifted Jonathan and set him onto his feet.

“There will be absolutely no firing apples at anyone,” Julia spoke firmly, not as amused as he. “Not one, Jonathan. But if you stay on the lowest branches, and Bea keeps an eye on you, you may climb the tree,” Julia relented.

“Fine. Fine,” he muttered, tossing her a mulish look.

Bea looked to her father, who nodded his permission, and she scampered to the apple tree, Jonathan in close pursuit.

“Is there still an orchard on the southwest corner of the estate?” Daniel asked.

Mabry looked surprised. “Yes, sir, there is.”

“I remember climbing those trees as a boy,” he marveled. The memory lightened his mood. Some things don’t change.

“Mr. Mabry, you mentioned your wife was ill?” Julia said, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, my Izzy. She was laid low with a mean sickness. Fever broke, and she is recoverin’ her strength, but it’s been slow goin’.”

Julia stepped forward. “I am relieved to hear that. Mr. Mabry, one of the reasons we are here is to check up on the tenants in the duke’s absence. Determine if they have any needs with which we can assist. Why don’t you let Emily and me see to your wife? In that manner, you can take some time to catch Lord Bryant up on the years he has missed.”

“That’s a good idea.” Emily smiled at Julia.

Daniel agreed. Mabry might hesitate to voice his concerns to Edmund’s fiancée, let alone discuss working conditions with a woman, despite Julia’s accomplishments. Divide and conquer. Deftly done. His admiration for Julia grew.

Mabry scratched his head, a picture of indecision.

“Please, let us do this for your wife. It would mean so much to Lord Bryant to travel the grounds with someone who has knowledge of the land.”

“Well, I don’t know. With my Izzy sick, the house is upside down. I’m not too good a hand at—” A flush darkened his worn features.

“I understand.” Julia employed a soothing cadence. “I am sure you have done the best you can, but for now let us assist you. That is why we are here.”

Before Mabry could voice another protest, Julia and Emily smiled reassuringly. Julia gave Daniel a pointed look before they headed to Mabry’s front gate.

Mr. Mabry stared blankly at the women as they walked up the path to his closed door.