Undressed to Impress the Duke : A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Scarlett Osborne

  “I would appreciate you doing so,” Aaron agreed. “Tell her to have the bills sent to Myrtlegrove Manor. We shall take care of them for her. And perhaps, you should bring some money to her, as well. To help her until she can…” He didn’t know what—find a job? A new husband?

  There was a knock at the door before he could figure out what he meant.

  “Yes?” Aaron called out. Mr. Stanley peered inside.

  “The Constable is here, Your Grace,” he said.

  “Send him up directly,” Aaron replied. Mr. Brownleaf, the local Constable entered, his hat in his hands. He had a serious look on his face.

  “I’m sorry Lord Ayles, but I need to speak with His Grace alone, please.”

  “Why?” Jack asked, frowning.

  “Alone, please, Your Grace.” Mr. Brownleaf looked Aaron in the eyes. He looked rather pained.

  “It’s all right,” Jack said, standing up. “I’ll go to see Mrs. Northrup first thing in the morning, Aaron.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” Aaron replied, then waited while his brother left, closing the door after him.

  “I’m sorry to have to bother you like this, Your Grace,” Mr. Brownleaf said. “Especially given the severity of your head injury.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Brownleaf,” he replied. “I was able to walk all of the way to the window and back. Please, sit down. What brings you here?”

  Mr. Brownleaf sat. “Since there was a death, I had to look into it. The carriage accident was the result of the axle breaking.”

  “I’d thought that there was something odd about it,” Aaron said. “Northrup knew the roads around here like the back of his hand.”

  Brownleaf nodded. “When I looked at the axle that broke,” he said. “Something seemed off about it.”

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron asked, frowning.

  “Typically, when an axle breaks, the wood is splintered, Your Grace. In this case, the cut was clean. Made by an axe, most likely.”

  Aaron’s mind went utterly blank. He had never expected to hear something like this. An axle on a carriage was a very thick piece of wood. It would take several chops with an axe. It would have been done purposefully. It would have taken time.

  “Someone tried to make it look like an accident?” he breathed, goosebumps rising across the back of his neck.

  “Yes, Your Grace. It was made at such an angle, that no one would have noticed it, not until it was too late.”

  Aaron’s blood ran chill. That meant that Northrup had been murdered. And, had Aaron and Bradshaw fallen any harder, then they would have been killed, too.

  “You’re investigating a murder,” he said slowly. Who? Why? Aaron didn’t have enemies. Not that he knew of.

  “Officially, yes,” the Constable confirmed. “As Mrs. Northrup has already informed me, her husband didn’t have anyone who wanted him dead. I’ve spoken with Mr. Bradshaw, and he doesn’t have anyone, either.”

  “Which leaves me,” Aaron said. “I must have been the target. Bradshaw and Northrup were both just doing their jobs.”

  “Is there anyone that might want you dead? Anyone who you’ve recently argued with?

  He couldn’t think of a single person who would want him dead. He shook his head slowly, remembering the reason why he had been leaving Myrtlegrove Manor in the first place.

  “I was headed for London, to attend to an urgent summons from my solicitor,” he said slowly. “There is some discrepancy within the accounts that pay for the estate.”

  It was the only thing that made any sense. Whoever it was did not want to be discovered, and thus, had tried to murder Aaron before he arrived in London to figure it out.

  “I don’t think that my solicitor knows who his culprit is,” Aaron said.

  “It’s certainly a lead,” the Constable said.

  “It’s the only one that I have for you,” he said apologetically. “I mean, I get along with everyone. My step-mother and I have always disagreed, but not to the point where she’d murder me.” No, Louisa was not capable of murder. She was capable of a great many things, but nothing so horrible.

  “You’d know her best. I’ll go to London to follow up with your solicitor,” the Constable said, standing up.

  “All right.” Aaron felt helpless—here he was, stuck in bed. If someone meant to kill him, then they would have an easy time of it. He could barely walk.

  “I’ll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, keep an eye out. Don’t go anywhere alone. I would keep someone whom you trust nearby at all times.”

  Aaron nodded. The Constable left the room. Aaron heard him say something to Stanley, who had been outside of the door, waiting to see the Constable out the front door.

  Aaron’s mind raced. He recalled the odd way that Ponsby had disappeared. Given that it was right near the time of the supposed accident, it suddenly felt more ominous. He would bring poor Ponsby up, the next time that the Constable came.

  Someone’s been trying to get to me. They’ve been doing this for a while. And I haven’t noticed a thing.

  Eleanor walked behind Aaron and Lady Julia. She had to walk very slowly. Aaron was leaning heavily on his cane.

  “Thank you for accompanying me, Lady Julia,” he said.

  “You’re quite welcome, Your Grace,” she replied. “It’s good to see you up this morning.”

  “The surgeon would have had it that I remain in bed for another week yet,” he replied with a laugh.

  The three of them were going further into the garden, where there was the orchard. Once they were out of sight of the house, Aaron stopped, looking about.

  “I had to speak to both of you urgently,” he said, half-turning to Eleanor. Concerned, she stepped closer. Julia glanced at her, brows furrowed.

  “What is it, Your Grace?” she asked.

  “The Constable was here, yesterday,” he replied, speaking in a low voice. “Apparently, the carriage accident was not so much an accident.”

  “What do you mean?” Eleanor asked, her mouth going dry.

  “The axle was chopped,” he explained. “Someone is trying to hurt me. I wanted to warn the both of you. Do not leave Myrtlegrove alone.”

  “Eleanor and I always stick together,” Lady Julia said.

  “We’ll be careful, Your Grace,” Eleanor murmured. “Who do you think it is?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “But it seems that, perhaps, Ponsby’s disappearance might be a result of that.”

  Eleanor was afraid. But not for herself. She was terrified—she had only gotten Aaron back, to find that he was in even graver danger than originally believed.

  In addition to warning Eleanor and Lady Julia, he had spoken to Arthur, as well. He was hanging back from telling Louisa. She would fall to pieces. There would be a scene, and then she would tell everyone, thus alerting the murderer.

  The Constable had explicitly told him that he should keep it a secret. If Aaron told Jack, then he could keep watch over his mother.

  “Please. Can we stop by the stables?” he asked them. “I want to check in on Lugh.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Lady Julia said. The three of them began to walk toward the stables. Already, a thin sheen of sweat was beading on Aaron’s forehead. He was exhausted. But he kept going.

  Who knows when I’ll next be up and about? As they all entered the stables, he caught Eleanor’s eye. She frowned.

  “Your Grace?” she asked. “Do you need to lean on my arm?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind, Eleanor,” he murmured. She offered him her arm, and he leaned a little of his weight against her. “I feel like a very old gentleman.”

  “Not at all,” Lady Julia said. “You should be resting, Your Grace.”

  “I will, My Lady. I promise.”

  She smiled at him, then stood to the side, as Eleanor helped him over to Lugh’s stall. Inside, the horse’s breathing was even. Lady Julia opened the stall door, while Eleanor helped him inside.

  He placed a hand on Lugh’
s withers. The horse blinked at him, bringing his nose around to be scratched.

  “They were brothers, Lugh and Lir,” he remarked. “They had the same parents .I wanted them to be a pair. To draw the carriage. They ended up perfectly matched. I couldn’t have done any better. It was quite difficult to tell them apart. Had to have marked halters.” He ran his palm down, along Lugh’s velvet soft nose.

  “Now, you’ll not be part of a pair,” he murmured softly. “You’re missing your other half.” He had always put them in the same field. They enjoyed each other’s company, just like he and Jack enjoyed talking together.

  “That’s sad,” Lady Julia said from outside of the stables.

  He smiled at her. “Yes, it is.” His eyes went to Eleanor—the other half of his pair. He glanced away just as quickly. Lady Julia hadn’t noticed. She was looking down the rows of stalls.

  “Perhaps it’s our life’s journey to find the match to our souls,” he said. “Perhaps we’re looking for our missing piece.”

  Lady Julia looked sad. “If that’s the case, then what’s poor Lugh to do now?”

  “That’s part of his journey,” Eleanor said gently.

  “Come. Let’s head back inside,” he said. “I could use a chair and a cup of tea.”

  “As could I,” Lady Julia was quick to agree.

  Eleanor offered him her arm again. He leaned on his cane, while enjoying the contact with her.

  If only we could always be like this, he thought. I would never let go.

  Chapter 29

  That evening, after dinner, they all retired to the parlor. Lord Mallen and Lord Ayles were sipping brandy. The Duke had not come down for dinner. Julia had told Eleanor to stay up in her bed chamber.

  The Dowager Duchess and Lady Whitecier were talking in low voices. Julia wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was on the conversation she’d had with the Duke, earlier. About the murderer.

  “Julia shall wear heritage lace, of course,” her mother said. “We have the best seamstress in London to make her wedding dress.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “But the wedding should take place in London, don’t you think?”

  “Of course,” her mother said. “Then all of the guests will be able to stay at their townhomes. Perhaps, early winter, at the beginning of the London Season?”

  “Then we can host a ball to celebrate the marriage,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “After all, wedding breakfasts are for ordinary people, and perhaps the Prince Regent will see fit to show up.”

  Julia’s stomach did a nauseous flip when she realized that they were planning her wedding…to the Duke of Durnsott. Suddenly, it felt as though the walls were closing in on her.

  Lady Julia excused herself from the room. Tears were springing to her eyes. As she walked, she heard footsteps. Expecting Eleanor, she spun around, finding herself face to face with Lord Jack.

  “Julia,” he whispered.

  “Jack.” She had never spoken his Christian name before. But when she did, it felt so natural upon her lips.

  He held both of her hands in his. It was the first time that their skin had touched. Before, at the balls, her hands had been covered by gloves. His hands were smooth, unhardened by work. Warm.

  His eyes met hers. Blue eyes, so alike to his brother’s. However, they held hers in a way that the Duke’s did not. Her skin heated, and she pressed his hands.

  “Why are you so sad, My Lady?” he asked, still holding both of her hands.

  I wish that he would never let me go.

  “We can never be together,” she blurted out. “My parents want me to marry your brother.”

  “I would have it any other way,” he admitted. “If only to see you happy.”

  “I wish…” she swallowed, as the tears began to fall, “I wish—” She shook her head, she couldn’t say it. She glanced away. She hoped that no one had overheard them. She would never be able to live this down.

  She turned back to him, the look in his eyes was so devastated. It brought her to a complete stop, almost taking her breath away.

  He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Julia had never been kissed before. His fingers were just beneath her chin. His lips, soft and yielding. It was so gentle, so perfect. She closed her eyes, letting the kiss deepen for a moment.

  It was better than she had ever hoped to expect. When she pulled away, she looked into his eyes. I will always remember this.

  “Oh,” she said. He smiled at her. “That was perfect.”

  “I love you, Julia,” he said. “Never forget that.”

  “But it can never happen—my Father will never agree,” she said. “You don’t know him, what he’s really like.” That was the problem—Lord Whitecier wanted his daughter to be a Duchess.

  “I won’t give you up,” he whispered fiercely. “I will find a way.”

  She laughed. “You’ll need to convince my Father.”

  He nodded, “Then I shall.” He was so confident. She wished that she had that feeling of certainty, that everything would work out, simply because they were in love.

  “You would—”

  “I fought Sommerset for your honor, didn’t I?” He quirked a smile. “We’re meant to be together, Julia. You know it, as well as I.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Please, Darling, please don’t be sad. I won’t let you down.”

  Julia nodded. To be the beloved of Jack Ayles was the only thing that she had ever wanted. He kissed her hand, his eyes on hers. Then, he kissed her on the lips, once more. He then bowed low and left her.

  Her heart was racing in her breast. She watched as he turned the corner, glancing back as he walked. She would always remember that one glance. She stood there, memorizing the moment, how she felt.

  Julia could barely believe what had just transpired. To be in love with the one gentleman that she could not ever hope to marry. Oh, it was too difficult to be borne.

  Aaron met with the Constable in the drawing room. He had been gone several days. Aaron had spent those days, sitting in his room. He was dying to know what his solicitor had found.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. His heart raced. He wondered who it could be.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Mr. Brownleaf said.

  “Please, sit,” he urged, gesturing toward the settee. They both sat down. Aaron sat in the armchair across from the Constable, he moved slowly, so as not to put too much stress on his knee. His hands gripped the armrests.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he offered as a matter of course. He didn’t know how long it would take. He tried not to frown. Whenever he did, he put stress on his stitches.

  “No, thank you.” Mr. Brownleaf’s face was grim.

  “Please, tell me what you’ve found out,” Aaron said, unable to bear the wait for news any longer.

  He cleared his throat. “I spoke with your solicitor, and he showed me his proof. It appears that someone has been forging your signature to make charges off of the Durnsott accounts.”

  Aaron frowned. “How long has it been going on?” he asked.

  “Since you inherited your father’s estate,” he replied.

  Aaron felt a wave of panic. “Five years?” he asked. “How?”

  “Whoever it is, it’s someone close to you,” he said. “Someone who knows your accounts and your signature. I would be very cautious. They’ve been doing it for a long time, and only taking small amounts.”

  “How did the solicitor notice?”

  “One of your accounts was charged when he knew that you were not in London.”

  “I have a list of the charges,” Mr. Brownleaf said, taking out several pages. He set them out for Aaron to see. He picked them up, reading through them.

  “So they’re capable of making mistakes,” Aaron mused.

  “That’s clear…” Mr. Brownleaf agreed, “you’re still alive.”

  Aaron nodded. He wondered who it could be. And when they planned to strike at
him next.

  Lady Julia and Eleanor stood in the ballroom, where preparations for the ball were underway. The footmen were hanging the streamers—gold silk, which hung from the walls, hanging in loops, connecting at the very center of the ceiling.

  House maids were arranging tall, taper candles in golden candelabras in strategic locations, where they would not cause fires or be knocked over by accident.