The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  “I see you have adopted the insolence that is common in the American colonials.”

  “And the pleasantries are dispensed with. Give me my bloody room key back.”

  “You always were proprietary about your possessions. Then, so am I.” He gave Daniel a hard look. “But we will get to that momentarily. A drink might take the edge off your impatience. That has not changed either. You are still like a skittish colt, never could stand still.” He leaned forward and poured Daniel a snifter.

  Daniel’s restlessness was a legacy left over from years of being poised for flight. At the mention of possessions, his gaze circled his room, his jaw clenching at the signs of his books and papers having been shuffled around and thumbed through. Edmund always had trespassing fingers. Irritated, Daniel snatched the snifter Edmund offered, careful to avoid touching him. He noted the bottle was already two-thirds drained. Edmund had been here awhile. “What do you want?”

  Edmund cocked an imperious brow and sipped his cognac, the ducal seal flashing on his middle finger. “I think the question to be asked is, what do you want? What brings you home after years of avoiding our sceptered isle? There is nothing for you here. Lakeview Manor is gone. You do not hold the title, which you have apparently forgotten since your return.” He took another drink when Daniel remained silent.

  “Have you returned for my nuptials? I understand you have learned I am to marry our neighbor, Lady Julia Chandler. You remember Julia? The homely swallow has transformed into an elegant swan. But you know that, too. Who would have thought it? She was such a wild thing, always tromping in the woods saving some pathetic wounded creature.” He snorted before continuing.

  “She is quite tamed now, and seeing how lovely the years have been to her, I could not let her fly away. Not when I have a need of a wife, preferably a country bird who will nest at home, while I roost in the city. The arrangement suited me, being neighbors and all. Her family and eventually our own should keep her occupied, and more important, out of my business.”

  Daniel sneered. “Why bother with a wife? You should acquire a dog. It sounds like you are training your wife to be a tamed breeder.” Disgust laced his words. “You don’t know Julia if you honestly believe you can plant her in the background of your life like some decorative lawn statue.”

  Edmund’s nostrils flared, the only sign Daniel’s barb had hit its mark, for Edmund continued in that deceptively calm manner of his. “Yes, news of her recent activities have been brought to my attention, and it appears she still possesses a wild streak. I attribute it to the bad company she has been keeping of late. Nothing I cannot remedy, and I look forward to reining her in.” He lifted his glass in a toast, a picture of ruthless nobility.

  It took Daniel some time to find his voice, for Edmund had always known where to land his punches. This one went straight to his sternum, temporarily winding Daniel. “You bastard. You goddamn bastard.” He stormed to the door and whipped it open. “Get out. We are finished. For Julia’s sake, I had hoped to talk to you. About the estate. About the tenants. I had hopes that you might have changed. Had matured and learned to listen. But you are still the same. Not worth my time.”

  Edmund stood and straightened to his full height. Surprise lit his eyes when they met Daniel’s straight on. He could almost see his brother absorbing the shock of their being of equal height and build. It was as if he were seeing Daniel for the first time, and he did not approve of the changes the years had etched, for he could no longer employ his size to dominate. Or to bully.

  Nevertheless, he stood in an upright soldier’s stance, his shoulders back, his chin elevated as if that could add the needed height. He raked Daniel with unconcealed contempt. “Nor have you changed. You never understood the estates are mine, not yours. You used to ride over them with father as if you owned them, as if they were yours as much as mine. And by God, you are still doing it. What the devil were you thinking? Going to Bedford Hall behind my back. Using my fiancée to wheedle your way in. Speaking to my tenants and—”

  “Somebody needs to do it, because you have not deigned to do so,” Daniel rejoined. He released the door to let it slam shut again, the noise reverberating in the room. He stepped close to Edmund, crowding him. “The title may be yours, but the legacy of the Bedford peerage goes back hundreds of years and will continue for a hundred more unless you grind it into dust with your tightfisted, blind incompetence.”

  “That is enough! Good lord, you have resided among the commoners far too long. I will not be spoken to in such an uncivilized manner.”

  Daniel bit back a madcap desire to laugh. “My apologies if my delivery offends your sensibilities, but while you may not want to hear this, you would be wise to listen. If not to me, then to Julia. She has proposals that will alleviate matters. It is not too late to save things, to turn them around, but if you do not make any changes, I promise you, you will lose everything. Including the respect of the peerage, which appears to be the only thing, besides profits, that you do give a damn about.”

  Edmund sucked in his breath, his face pale. Then a strange, icy calm descended over him and the room chilled. He finished his drink, set it on the cherrywood table, collected his tall hat and gloves, and stepped toward the door.

  “You are right. We are finished.” He yanked on his gloves and put on his hat. “I do not know why you returned, nor do I care. Just remember this—stay out of my business and off my property. The title, the estate, the lovely Julia Chandler, are all mine. Not yours. Mine. Anyone who dares to trespass on my property does so at his own peril. In the future, you would be wise to remember that. I will not warn you again. My thanks for the cognac.”

  He neatened his cuffs, straightened his jacket, and gave Daniel a dismissive nod. “Runt,” he sneered the word like a dirty expletive.

  As he passed Daniel, he slammed his shoulder into him, knocking him so hard Daniel’s drink splattered over his jacket. The childish aspersion combined with the shove lifted the lid on years of percolating anger.

  Slamming his drink onto the table, Daniel caught Edmund, whipped him around, and heaved him back against the door. “No, Edmund. I am a grown man now, and from where I am standing, your equal, if not your better in every way. Next time, you would be wise to remember that, for touch me again and you do so at your peril.” Daniel dropped his hands and stepped back, unable to bear the touch of his brother a second longer.

  Edmund regarded Daniel with white lips, his hatred emanating like a raging storm. After a tense moment, he tugged his jacket into place and brushed off the imprint of Daniel’s hand, as if flicking off something foul that had soiled the fabric. “Well, then, we’d best stay out of each other’s way,” he said, a quiet menace in his tone. With that, he was gone.

  The silence following in his wake was deafening.

  Daniel stood motionless for a long time. Eventually, he lifted his hands and stared at them as if Edmund’s arms had replaced his own, for brutality was not him, had never been. That was Edmund, and it frightened Daniel to know that he harbored that inside of him. It was another thing to hold against his brother. That he could dredge up the very worst in Daniel.

  He snatched up his drink, drained it, then whipped the snifter into the stone hearth, shattering the glass as easily as Edmund had destroyed all his plans. And all of Julia’s delusions.

  The only salvation in his brother’s visit was the cognac. He snatched up the bottle, sank into the chair Edmund had vacated, and lifted it to his lips. Waste of damn fine cognac. It would not alleviate matters or assuage the throbbing in his head, but it might wash down the bile choking him and help him to drown out Edmund’s plans for Julia. To forget that she was marrying the bastard.

  No! Absolutely not.

  There would be no marriage. There would be no marriage because it would have to take place over Daniel’s dead body. And no one had killed him—yet. From now on, he would guard his back much more carefully, because he needed to survive. To live long enough to save Julia. An
d his father’s estates.

  He had an agenda, and as a successful businessman and expert negotiator, he would not fail. To borrow his brother’s pompous edict, Edmund would be wise to learn that or suffer the consequences at his peril. The arrogant, tightfisted, sick bastard.

  And on that, Daniel drank.

  “DAMN IT ALL. You look bloody foxed.”

  The resounding crash of the door had Daniel shooting to a sitting position and blinking at the bellowing voice. Robbie stood framed in the doorway, the candlelight from the hallway sconces flickering over him. Daniel pressed his hand to his throbbing temple and groaned. He needed to speak to the innkeeper about getting springs on the door. Better yet, he should have locked it.

  Robbie strolled into the room, eyeing Daniel’s cognac-splattered jacket discarded on the bed. “Smell like it, too.” He scooped up Daniel’s neck cloth from the floor and tossed it next to the coat. “What the hell is wrong with you? You were to meet me at the pub over an hour ago. And you’ve started drinking without me. Bastard.” He lifted the bottle, and scrunched up his features. “Ah, good thing you have, this is not in my price range. Christ, who gets soused on Barker’s best cognac?”

  “Barker?” Baffled, Daniel cleared his throat, for it was full of cotton. His head felt no better. An orchestra had taken up residence and was pounding out an off-key tune.

  “The innkeeper,” Robbie supplied. He strode to the commode in the corner, lifted the pitcher, and poured a generous tumbler of water. Circling back to Daniel’s side, he shoved it at him. “Sober up and talk to dear old Robbie. Tell me all about the goddess Lady Julia and how beautiful and perfect and clever and splendid and . . . Oh wait, you already did that. All bloody week. This has to stop. You are—”

  “Jesus, Robbie, stop yammering at me.” He snatched the proffered glass from Robbie, gulped half of it and slammed it on the table, wiping his mouth. “If you don’t have a guillotine on hand, go away. I already went a round with Edmund, not you, too.” His last words had Robbie snapping his mouth closed and straightening.

  Savoring the silence, Daniel lurched to his feet and strode over to the commode. He leaned over its cavernous china bowl, lifted the pitcher, and poured the rest of the water over his head. Like a baptism, he needed to be cleansed. He sucked in a sharp breath and staggered back. “Blimey! That’s ice cold. Why the devil didn’t you warn me?” He shook his head, sending water droplets splattering, and snatched the towel off the nearby rack to dry his hair.

  Robbie grunted. “Didn’t think you’d dump your thick head into it.” He walked over to the hearth and draped an elbow over the mantel. “Edmund came here?” he asked quietly, concerned.

  Daniel jerked his head toward the empty bottle of cognac. “Do you really believe I would drop a fortune on Barker’s best?” He scowled. “Edmund impersonated me, and doubled my bill while making himself comfortable rifling through my possessions. Just like old bloody times.” He dragged a hand through his wet hair, shoving it off his forehead. With the towel draped around his neck, he returned to the leather chair and dropped into it.

  “What did he want?” Robbie asked.

  “What do you think? He wanted to plant his fist in my face. As I said, just like old times. Cain and Abel, that is us.”

  “Are you . . . did he . . . ?”

  Daniel’s eyes shot to Robbie’s and he frowned. Over the years, he had landed on Robbie’s doorstep bruised and battered too many times for Robbie’s family not to glean more than he’d wanted them to. “Verbal punches, Robbie. He cannot hurt me now. I am a runt no longer.” His voice was harsh, and he shifted in his seat, aggrieved the childhood taunt still drew blood a decade later. “It would be a fair fight. And we both know Edmund does not fight fair. Never did.”

  “I take that to mean he would not listen to any of your plans for the estate?”

  Daniel snorted. Lifting the tumbler of water, he sipped. “I never really believed he would. I just . . . well, for Julia’s sake, I felt I had . . . well . . .”

  “I understand.” Robbie nodded. “So now what should we do?”

  Irritation gripped Daniel. “What do you mean ‘what should we do’? I am going to stop Julia from marrying that bastard and save the estate, that is what I intend to do. Nothing has changed.”

  “And how do you propose to do that? Edmund holds the title, and Julia is betrothed to him. That is a legally binding contract. Breaking it would be a serious breach and create a huge scandal. You have been in America too long. You forget, here titles are like the Holy Grail; they come with power and prestige. Bedford may be your brother, but he is a duke. Unless you are wearing a crown, it does not get more powerful than that.”

  “Bloody hell, Robbie,” he groused. “Whose side are you on?”

  Robbie held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I am on yours, but as you are a bit under the weather, I thought I would clarify some minor details. Point out the obstacles you need to consider, so you don’t trip over them.”

  “Since when have you been one for details? You barely remember to store your riding equipment in the stables. Half of it litters your office.”

  “Those items need to be fixed, or more orders placed for them,” Robbie protested.

  “And jotting it down on a piece of paper will not suffice?”

  Robbie narrowed his eyes. “Well, yes, I suppose it would. But when I am busy dodging nine hundred stone of enraged stallion bearing down on me, and I see he needs a new bridle, an inkwell and pen can be hard to find at that moment.”

  “I understand your point,” Daniel conceded. Then he grinned. “But your office is still a mess.”

  Robbie grunted. “No more so than this room. Look at this place.”

  Puzzled, Daniel straightened and peered around. In addition to the disarray of his books and papers, the desk drawers as well as those in his bureau jutted out. His closet door stood ajar, and his valise lay on its side.

  He abruptly shot to his feet and snatched his jacket from the bed. Shoving his hand in its pocket, he relaxed when his fingers closed over the letter from his father’s solicitor. He did not know what the devil Edmund was looking for, didn’t give a damn, but his finding the letter would toss a match onto an already smoldering confrontation. “The mess is compliments of Edmund.”

  “Why?” Robbie looked baffled.

  Daniel shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in his mind? I do not waste time bothering to decipher it.” He moved to his desk, shoved the letter into a book, and slammed it closed. “Probably thought I stole some tenant’s crockery,” he muttered.

  “Do you have any idea of how you are going to accomplish these things? Saving the estate and Julia?” Robbie asked.

  “As you said, there are obstacles. It has to be done delicately.” He shrugged, grinning at the understatement.

  Robbie rolled his eyes. “Please tell me that’s the brandy talking.”

  Ignoring him, Daniel leaned back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “An idea came to me in regard to the fire. Mabry again mentioned problems with poachers, and it struck a chord with me. Do you remember Weasel?”

  Weasel’s given name was Nate Corkery. He was a village boy whose nimble fingers and clever guile had earned him his nickname as the prince of poaching. Like the weasel, he trespassed at will and pinched coveted game. At Robbie’s curt nod, Daniel continued. “Mabry mentioned he disappeared immediately after the fire. Said he was spouting crazy talk about it. Any chance you can locate him?”

  Robbie frowned. “I can try. But it has been a while. Might be hard.”

  “Try. I have a feeling about this.”

  “Your sixth sense working up?” Amusement laced Robbie’s words.

  “Well, if Weasel did witness anything, it would be in someone’s best interest to brand him mad.”

  “True,” Robbie nodded. “So what else is on your agenda that is obstacle free? Rebuilding Lakeview Manor?”

  Daniel stilled at Robbie’s words. Rebuild
ing Lakeview Manor. He abruptly straightened. “That’s brilliant! Just brilliant.”

  Robbie looked baffled. “Come again?”

  “Let’s get that drink at the pub, for we are celebrating. You have just given me a splendid idea.”

  “Fine, but you’re buying.”

  Daniel warily eyed Robbie’s considerable size. “I will stick to cider to keep the bill down. And do you have a spare room at your place? This place is contaminated.”

  “You can have my old office above the stables. As you know, the gear has been moved into the house.”

  At Daniel’s expression, Robbie laughed. “I was jesting.”

  “It was a poor one.” Daniel shook his head as he crossed to his closet for a change of clothes. He could not wait to share his plans with Julia . . . Julia. His smile faded and his arms felt heavy, as weighed down as his mood as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off.

  One thing was certain. Julia was used to being in charge, or if not in charge, at least consulted. She would take umbrage at Edmund’s plans to abandon her in the country. She was used to being needed, not dismissed or forgotten.

  Edmund’s pompous words had only confirmed that Julia deserved better than him. It was time she had a glimpse of what better looked like. Daniel intended to show her.

  His mood improved, and he dressed quickly. If all went well, he was confident his Julia would choose ruination over Edmund. He would bet a crate of Barker’s vintage cognac on it.

  “I recognize that look. You are thinking about her again,” Robbie complained. “I don’t want to hear it. Not one word. It is no surprise someone wanted to kill you, because I am having a devil of a time restraining myself.” He stomped to the door.

  Daniel laughed as he collected his jacket. He paused and cursed, for damned if his brother had never returned Daniel’s room key.

  Chapter Ten

  JULIA loosely gripped Constance’s reins as she wended her way through the wooded path leading to Lakeview Manor. She had received a note from Daniel asking her to meet him on the grounds. His message had coincided with another delivery. Recognizing the Bedford crest, she had eagerly slid open the elegant, cream-colored envelope. It contained an invitation to a dinner party Edmund was hosting the following evening at Bedford Hall.