by Abigail Agar
Lady St Claire smiled and shook her head. “Of course he did,” she said to Gregory. Her tone softened as she added, “That was a very kind thing to do for your brother. I should not have pushed him to rejoin society so soon. Perhaps by next season, he will be more himself.”
“People change, Mother. This might very well be how Fred is, but I am hoping he will regain some of his jovial nature. He seemed to take to Miss Kelley well, and that makes me think that there is hope for him yet,” Gregory said. He gave his mother a pleased smile.
***
Jules straightened her shoulders, which was hard to do in a corset, she found, and knocked on the door to the Duke’s study. From inside, she heard a faint, “Enter.”
When Jules stepped inside, she saw Lady St Claire seated in one of the leather chairs across from the Duke’s desk. The Duke himself looked at her in surprise. “Miss Kelley, I was not aware you were feeling up to moving about yet,” he said as he stood up and came over to gently grasp her by the arm and elbow.
Jules allowed the man to guide her over to the couch that Fredrick had been seated on the last time Jules was in the study. She sank down onto the cushioned chair with a soft, “Thank you.”
Lady St Claire asked in concern, “Do you need some water? You look frightfully pale.”
Jules mumbled, “More like a knife.” Lady St Claire gave Jules a confused look, and Jules spoke up louder, “That’s very nice.”
Lady St Claire waved off Jules’ kind words. “Not at all,” the woman said as she rose to her feet. “I’ll just go fetch you some lemon water from the kitchen. It always makes me feel better when I’m a touch ill.” The woman quickly bustled out of the room all swish of skirts and tapping of shoes.
When the door shut, the Duke chuckled and told Jules, “It is a very good thing that she pads her hair so much over her ears, or she might have had you committed.”
Jules blushed with the knowledge that the Duke had heard what she had said to his mother. “It was just a jest,” Jules said apologetically.
The Duke shrugged. “I have probably said worse to her, and I assume it was not to do her any harm, more to your laces?” The Duke’s gaze dropped down to Jules' waist.
Jules fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself in embarrassment. “They are rather restricting. I’m surprised noblewomen don’t faint in the streets,” Jules said with perfect seriousness.
“They do,” the Duke said with a chuckle. “That’s why there are fainting rooms.”
Jules rolled her eyes in disgust. “Why does anyone do this to themselves? It is cruel. Do they hate themselves so?”
“I have never thought to ask,” the Duke said honestly, “although it does appear that most of them are opposed to how they look in some way or another.” The man cleared his throat. “I was just telling Mother about the fire. I had one of my insurance men go look at it with me. I have even been around to the local police, such as they are. They all seem to think the fire was a deliberate set and that someone barred the doors.”
Jules nodded slowly. “That fits with what people told me the day of the fire. They couldn’t get the doors open for anything. So, it has to be someone who would gain from a fire like that.”
“And it definitely wasn’t the property owner,” the Duke said thoughtfully. Jules cringed at the thought of the man’s body. “I’m sorry to bring that up,” the Duke apologized at the expression on Jules’ face.
Jules blushed deeply at having been caught being so soft. “It’s quite alright,” she assured him.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I did not enjoy the sight at all myself and find it waiting for me sometimes when my thoughts stray,” the Duke said quietly.
Jules nodded. “I feel ridiculous for being so affected by it when there are people like your brother who have seen far worse, Your Grace,” Jules said honestly. Her brow wrinkled, and she asked, “Where is Sir St Claire if you do not mind my asking, Your Grace?”
“He left just this morning to go take over the country estate. We lost our overseer for the estate due to age, and Fredrick was keen to get away from society for a bit. It worked out well,” the Duke said with a smile.
With another nod, Jules agreed. “It does sound like it would be good for him.”
“That was my thought as well,” Duke St Claire agreed. “Are you longing for your family yet?”
Jules sighed. “I’ve always been with them. Missing them comes very naturally.”
“I promise that when all this is over, you can return to them,” the Duke said sincerely. His grey eyes locked onto Jules’ gaze, and she saw nothing but truth reflected in the man’s eyes.
Jules pushed herself up a bit on the couch, the corset just about forcing her to lie down despite her efforts. She was eager to ask the Duke about what her part in all of this was to be, but just then the door opened, and a servant brought in a tray with a pitcher of lemon water and some small sandwiches.
“Excuse me, Your Grace. Your mother sent me to bring the young lady some refreshments,” the man said with a thick accent that Jules could not place.
The Duke waved the man to deposit the tray on the side of his desk. “Thank you so much, Manuel,” he said graciously as the man set the tray on the desk. As quickly as he entered, the servant was gone again. “He’s a nice man,” the Duke said of the servant after the man had left, “but a little too stiff. He does not like to make conversation lightly.”
“Oh,” Jules said simply as she pushed herself up off the couch. The Duke was already rising to help, but she insisted, “I can stand up on my own.”
The Duke watched her lever herself up off the cushion seat with amusement. “No one can say you take the easy road, Miss Kelley,” the man assured her.
“Thank you,” Jules said as she breathed a sigh of relief on getting to her feet. She came over to sit next to the desk in one of the leather chairs. The leather chairs were far more comfortable to sit in with a corset, Jules discovered. She took the glass of lemon water that the Duke held out to her.
“You have yet to say in what way I can help you, Your Grace,” Jules ventured. She did not want to anger the man, but she was also anxious to know what she would be called upon to do in the near future.
The Duke nodded as he watched her take a sip of the lemon water. “I simply need you to do as you have been doing, pose as my betrothed for a time. I do apologize for not being more forthright with you in the beginning, but I feared you might be predisposed to decline on principle,” the man said with a slight lift of his shoulders.
Jules frowned slightly, and she asked, “Why is it necessary for me to do so?”
“It will give me more freedom to investigate without my mother and others constantly interfering with me,” the Duke said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “I thought you might enjoy a bit of pulling the wool over the elite’s eyes, so to speak.”
The idea of getting something past her betters did spark a bit of mischief in Jules’ heart. She smiled at the man. “Can I ask what you will be investigating with all this new freedom?”
“To put it simply, it has come to my attention that some of my peers might be behind a series of acts that have been blamed on various guilds in the city. Not only that, but I am fairly certain that someone is undermining me and my family’s name. To that end, I am determined to find out the truth,” the Duke said truthfully.
Jules eyed the man and said quietly, “You are very open about your ambitions. Aren’t you afraid that I might not be on your side? Or that someone could overhear?”
“I want what you want,” the Duke said, “and if someone here is against me, then I feel as if I have already lost.”
Jules nodded slowly and sipped her lemon water. “So, have we decided who I am in this whole farce?”
“You are yourself, only you are from the colonies in India,” the Duke said. “We met during my trip to India last year and have been corresponding since then.”
Jules smiled. “How very r
omantic, Your Grace.”
“Truly,” the Duke said with a chuckle. “You might want to say that with less sarcasm if asked by someone about it.”
With a laugh of her own, Jules agreed, “I will do my best, Your Grace.”
“You can feel free to call me Gregory when we are alone, Miss Kelley,” the Duke said graciously, which made Jules smile.
She nodded her head towards the man and said, “And you may call me by Jules or Julia.”
“I am privileged,” the Duke replied with a tip of his head and a smile.
Jules noticed the way the man tapped his fingers along the edge of the desk when he spoke, his long, lithe fingers moving like a pianist. She smiled at the man, unsure of when the conversation had stopped but not sure how to start it back up again. The Duke cleared his throat and said, “Would you care for a sandwich to tide you over?”
“I’m not hungry,” Jules said, and she saw a flash of worry on the man’s face. “I promise that I am very well, I simply do not feel hungry at this moment.”
The Duke nodded. “Then I should probably get back to the business at hand,” he said as he tapped a paper on his desk.
Jules took the man’s cue and rose. She sat her drink down on the tray. “I will see you at luncheon?” Jules asked the question and found herself hoping that she would see the man despite her reservations.
The Duke frowned slightly and said apologetically, “I am afraid that I will be out for the rest of the day. I have chores that require me to be elsewhere in the city.”
The answer was vague, but Jules was not so much curious about the man’s chores as she was just disappointed that he would be absent. “That’s a shame,” Jules said genuinely and met his eyes. “Be safe on your adventures,” she said quietly.
“I will endeavour to return in one piece,” the Duke assured her as he stood up to escort her to the door.
When the man held the door open, Jules slipped by the Duke, careful not to brush too close to the man. She just caught the spicy scent that always seemed to cling to the Duke.
She wondered what it was, and as she did, she hesitated for just a moment. Her eyes lifted to his, and she found him watching her intently. Jules blushed, quickly exited the room, and took herself with all due haste down the hall and away from the man.
***
Good to his word, Jules did not see the Duke for the rest of the day. When she enquired after him, she was informed by Lady St Claire that her son had had some business at one of the local prisons. Jules wondered if he had gone to see about the case against her guildmates, but she kept the question to herself.
That evening, Jules sat in front of the vanity allowing Sherry to unbraid and brush her hair. Her dark hair fell in lovely waves as the girl took apart the braids and began brushing Jules’ long hair out.
This would have been a totally foreign thing to Jules only a week ago, but now she felt it strangely relaxing as she was freed from the confines of her corset and hairpins for a night’s reprieve.
“I heard Lady St Claire talking to the Duke,” Sherry said conversationally. “Lady St Claire is most anxious for you to make your societal debut.”
Jules cringed. “Well, I am dreading being presented like a slab of pork at a picnic,” she said in disgust. “No wonder society is so far from the realities of the world. Is this really what they care about?”
“I find it exciting for you,” Sherry admitted. “The Duke is a fine catch, and you are sure to make several of the fancy ladies who had their eyes set on him very unhappy.”
Jules considered that and brightened. “That does make me look forward to it more,” Jules admitted with a grin.
Sherry giggled and blushed. “You are as bold a lady as I have ever known,” Sherry said with a shake of her head.
“Truth be told, my father raised me to be more like the boys in the yards than my mother raised a lady,” Jules admitted with a laugh. “Sometimes, I think I have lost the feeling for matters of a feminine nature.”
Sherry shrugged, “It may be that the Duke will help you remember some of those lessons. He is a handsome man, after all.”
“Sounds like you might be better off marrying him then,” Jules said, and then she laughed at the look on Sherry’s face. “I mean no offence, Sherry. I am just jesting.”
Sherry waved off Jules’ laughter. “Jests like that could land you in the kettle water with Lady St Claire,” Sherry warned.
“I know,” Jules said. She sighed. “I’m sorry to cause you grief. I consider you to be my friend, and I have never had many of those.”
Sherry’s expression softened as she picked up another section of Jules’ hair and began brushing it out. Sherry said softly, “I consider you a friend as well, and that’s why I hope that you and the Duke are able to make a true wedding of it. I think you’ll find him pleasant if given a chance.”
“I promise that I’ll try,” Jules said honestly. The thought of marrying the Duke had gone from ludicrous a few days ago to bearable, perhaps even more than bearable. Who’s to say how she might feel about it tomorrow? Jules smiled. “I’ll definitely try.”
***
The Newgate Prison, despite being recently rebuilt to accommodate more modern inventions such as the penal treadmill, still had the major issue of just having too many occupants.
Gregory counted more than seven men in each cell, and he wondered how many had really done much more than being in debt or homeless to earn their place behind the iron bars? A prison guard bobbed his head at Gregory as the Duke passed. “Your Grace,” the man intoned with respect.
He gave the man a brief nod. Gregory tried to recall the guard’s name but could not. It seemed the guards came and went at such frequency that learning their names was almost an exercise in futility.
He had not come here to make any new acquaintances, but instead had come to see how the barrister was making out with the mason’s guild.
“Hello, my good man,” Gregory said as he caught sight of the barrister a few cells ahead of him.
The man turned and gave Gregory a warm smile. “Ah, there is the patron Duke of Saints,” Reginald Dulock said with a chuckle. “Come to check on me?”
“I have indeed, old friend,” Gregory said with warmth. He did not mind the man’s jest. He and Reginald had worked together before, and he found the man to be amicable, and most importantly, trustworthy. “Have you a moment to pass the time?”
Reginald nodded and waved for Gregory to walk with him towards the courtyard. “Of course, Your Grace,” Reginald said.
As soon as they walked through the courtyard, Gregory asked, “What do you think the odds are for the masons?”
“I think that the case against them is paltry and hearsay, at best,” Reginald said with disgust. The man sighed, “That being said, I hear the judge is quite set against them. He’s already labeled the libels, and the penalty for that alone could put them in the Chates.”
Gregory did not want to hear that, but he had expected it anyway. “I will see if I can broach the subject with the judge in question. He is familiar with me and may show some leniency if I can get him to see reason.”
“You know as well as I do, Your Grace, that reason does not always have a place on the podium of the judiciary,” Reginald said with measured words.
Gregory knew that very well, but he owed at least a little loyalty to Maxwell Chapman for the sake of their boyhoods together. “I will report back to you about my level of success with Sir Chapman,” Gregory promised.
Reginald accepted the Duke’s words with a nod of his head. Gregory only hoped that Maxwell would prove reasonable.