The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  “When I returned? This morning?” Unease swept through Daniel.

  “Yes, sir.” She looked at him oddly.

  “You saw me return? Did I speak to you or anyone?”

  “No, my lord. But Lanie, said ye . . . well, she said ye smiled at her when ye climbed the stairs.” She flushed, but sobered when Daniel simply stared. “But ye seemed in a hurry, otherwise she would have asked ye if ye wanted a proper cup of tea brought up.”

  Daniel faced Robbie. “This is the first time I have returned since my leave-taking early this morning. Whoever smiled at Lanie, it was not me.”

  Robbie addressed the maid. “Corrine, can you get Lanie for us? That might assist us with clarifying matters.” The maid bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried from the room, looking relieved to escape.

  “Only one other person could be mistaken for you,” Robbie said. “I would ask why, but we both know he has cause for his anger.”

  “What cause? What do we know?” Davie said, his interest perked at Robbie’s meaningful look.

  Daniel waved a hand dismissively. “My brother and I had a bit of a row earlier.”

  Davie whistled. “Cor, me and Robbie go at it all the time, but I never thought the duke had it in him. Always so high in the instep. That explains your black and blue. Did you triumph?”

  Robbie cuffed his brother on the head. “Can you focus here? We need to find out if Bedford took anything.”

  Davie rubbed his head. “You just said he did it ’cause he was in a fit of temper, so I doubt he pocketed anything. He lost the fight, then?” He gave Daniel a hopeful look, but Daniel simply shook his head. “Fine, don’t share the interesting details.”

  “Davie,” Robbie’s patience snapped. “What makes you so bloody sure he didn’t take anything?”

  “’Cause I picked this off the floor,” he said, striding over to the mantel and lifting a gold watch fob. “This is a pretty piece. Looks like it has the Bedford crest on it. Doubt he would leave it, if he was here to loot. Besides, he’s a duke, he has to have everything a man could want or the funds to buy what he doesn’t.”

  Daniel swiped his hands down his face. Did Edmund seriously visit his room simply to vent his rage? Go home. I give you fair warning. Edmund had threatened him. He frowned. It seemed extreme even for his nefarious brother, but there was rage here. No denying that. His eyes strayed to the remnants of the shattered bowl.

  “Sir? Corrine said you wanted to see me?” A petite maid hovered in the doorframe. Her wide blue eyes nearly swallowed up her gamin face.

  “Yes, Lanie. Did you see Lord Bryant return to his lodgings mid morning?”

  Her eyes strayed to Daniel, and a pretty blush suffused her face. “Well, yes I . . .” Her words trailed off and she stared at Daniel, looking puzzled.

  “What is it, Lanie?” Robbie asked.

  She lifted her hand to indicate her hair, and nodded toward Daniel’s head. “It’s . . . well, sir, your hair looked as if it was cropped a mite shorter this mornin’.”

  “Thank you, Lanie, that will be all.” Robbie nodded to the maid, who was as happy to depart as Corrine.

  “The bastard,” Daniel snarled. “He waltzes in here without a by-your-leave and rifles through my stuff for a second time. I . . .” His words tapered off and he bolted to the desk, picking up each discarded book and flipping through its pages. Gone. It was gone. He looked at Robbie. “Something was taken. The letter from my father’s solicitor.”

  Robbie frowned. “Well, it didn’t say too much. Just a cryptic note about claiming your destiny, which you already did in America. And you believed Bedford had received a copy of the letter anyway.”

  “I did.” Daniel furrowed his brow, and ignored Davie’s curious look as he paced the room. “What if he did not write to Edmund?” His thoughts spiraled. “The note said I was to visit him as soon as I arrived. What if he wanted to tell me something that Edmund did not want me to hear? Or rather, give me something that Edmund did not want me to have? That would explain my tossed stuff. Edmund’s looking for it.”

  “What? What is it?” Davie blurted, utterly fascinated.

  Daniel shook his head. “I have no idea. Everything I owned burned in the fire.” He nodded to Robbie. “Whatever money I had left from my inheritance, I poured into Curtis Shipping.”

  Davie warily eyed the mess of the room. “Whatever it is, you need to return it. He is a duke and all.”

  “Will you be quiet,” Robbie snarled at his brother, causing him to jump. “Maybe it is time you did as the letter advised and spoke with this solicitor. Perhaps your father left you something in his will, and his solicitor learned that Edmund never gave it to you?”

  Daniel nodded, picturing a rotund, jovial man, his features wrinkled like a walnut. “I agree. I need to speak to Abel Shaw. I remember him well because my father liked to make him wait for over an hour before seeing him. Believed it set the tone of a meeting by demonstrating who controlled matters from the onset. Abel thwarted my father’s power game, though, for he came prepared, always carried a deck of cards and a cheroot. Taught me to play vingt-et-un.”

  “Do you believe he is still in London?” Robbie said.

  “He should be.” Daniel shrugged. “He posted the letter at the beginning of the year.”

  “Do you remember anything from when he read your father’s will? Were you present when it was read?” Robbie pressed.

  Daniel shook his head regretfully. “No, I was there for the beginning. Then it was just Edmund. Edmund’s first act as Bedford was to let Shaw go and hire his own firm. Reading my father’s will was the last legal service Shaw provided.”

  “No, writing to you was his last service to your family,” Davie corrected.

  Robbie whirled on his brother. “Don’t you have a stall to muck or a woman to irritate?”

  Davie muttered something under his breath, but fled the room when Robbie made a threatening advance.

  When Davie had departed, Daniel sighed. “I had planned to visit Shaw, but I was not in any rush to do so. I had claimed my destiny, so his words read more melodramatic than imperative to me. And as you know, I had more pressing matters topping my agenda while home.”

  “I understand. But you need to visit him now, and I should go to London with you.” Robbie eyed Daniel’s bruised cheek. “You might need someone to keep you out of trouble. And it is time my idiot brother learned some responsibility, I think.” He tossed a wary look in the direction that Davie had disappeared.

  “Fine,” Daniel said. He could use another set of eyes and ears to keep a lookout.

  Daniel would have his hands full, for he had another reward he valued far more.

  He had a potential woman to woo and win.

  Once again, his agenda was full.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AS Daniel alighted from the hackney, he resisted the urge to cover his nose with his handkerchief. He had only been in London for a few days, but he had already concluded that if the stench did not kill him, the cacophony of noise would. The clatter of carriage wheels, horses’ hooves, various bells, and vendor shouts composed the strident city orchestra.

  They were meeting Brett at a tavern near the offices of Curtis Shipping, which were located in South London near the docks. Inside the tavern, more smells and noise assaulted Daniel. Ale, cheap gin, and other rank odors permeated the atmosphere. Men stood in groups, sat among the scattered tables, or congregated along the strip of the stained bar, their voices a buzzing hum. Daniel scanned the tavern for his friend, locating him at a table in the corner.

  Brett Curtis unfurled his tall frame and rose to his feet, lifting his pint in greeting as Daniel and Robbie threaded their way over to him. Candlelight flickered over Brett’s thick blond hair, and his grin flashed white as his gaze narrowed on Daniel’s cheek. “What happened? Someone finally try to put a damper on your smart mouth and missed? Is this the reason for your guard?”

  “I am still prettier than you,” Daniel fired back.
“You remember my good friend, Robbie Tanner. Be kind to him or I will let him hurt you.” The two had met while Daniel was recovering at Robbie’s after the fire at Lakeview Manor. Once Daniel was well enough to be moved, he had sailed with Brett to America.

  Brett snorted. “He can try.” Robbie simply puffed out his broad chest, cracking knuckles on ham-size fists. Brett retreated, his blue eyes dancing with laughter. “Good thing I am always kind. Had to be with three sisters. Charming is my middle name.” Brett dropped into his chair and motioned for a waitress to bring them a round of pints and a pitcher.

  Daniel shrugged out of his redingote and hung it on the brass hook beside the table, settling into a chair beside the two men.

  “Other than the bruises, you appear none the worse for wear. Even better, no one has killed you yet. Maybe I will not need to stand as your pallbearer after all.”

  Robbie grinned. “Gallows humor. I like it.”

  “Ignore him. He is devoted to me,” Daniel said.

  “I cannot survive without him. Oh, my mistake, I have for the past two weeks while I have struggled to broker two new business contracts. And you were doing what? Trying to solve a decade-old mystery. Any success with that?”

  “Brett did not approve of my return trip,” Daniel explained to Robbie, his eyes on his friend. “Did not think it a good idea I tempt fate a second time, particularly when my life is in America, and there was nothing here for me to risk it for. Except a burned-out hull of a home, an evil twin, and bad memories. Have I covered all your points? I might have missed a few, for you did tend to drone on.”

  “You will not be laughing when you are six feet under.” Brett slammed his pint down.

  “You have made your point.” Daniel lifted his hand, relenting. “I do understand your reservations, but let us not air them all over again. My decision has been made.”

  Brett tightened his lips, and eventually turned his attention to Robbie. “So, Tanner of the illustrious Tanner Stables. How have you passed the decade since I saw you last? Have you acquired a Mrs. Tanner?”

  “Hmph. I prefer the females in my stables. They don’t bite. Or most of them don’t,” Robbie said.

  “Nothing like a high-spirited filly.” Brett winked at the waitress, who colored a pretty pink as she served them.

  “Will thot be all, gents?” She eyed Brett suggestively, practically preening.

  His smile was apologetic. “Alas, for now, it will have to suffice.”

  Daniel coughed as the waitress gave a lingering glance and then sauntered off, her hips in full tilt. Brett drew women to him like flies to food. “So then, there are matters that need to be discussed.”

  Brett sobered. “So you received my letter? I wondered, as your note did not mention it.”

  “What letter?” Daniel set down his pint.

  “The one I sent via courier last week.”

  Robbie snorted. “He might have missed it. He was busy responding to another note that had him scurrying to redress a transgression.”

  “Be quiet, Robbie.” Daniel narrowed his eyes in warning.

  Brett glanced between them. “What transgression? Another robbery?”

  Daniel silenced Robbie with a hand and leaned forward. “What robbery are you talking about? Your note must have crossed paths with my trip to the city.”

  “I sent it last week to that inn where you were staying,” Brett said.

  “I moved lodgings, and did not provide a forwarding address.” He had not wanted his location known. To Edmund. “I will explain later.”

  Brett gave him a questioning look, but continued. “It was at our offices. The place was thoroughly ransacked. But here is the interesting part. Nothing was taken. The Bow Street Runners whom I hired to investigate speculated that whoever did the damage wanted it to look like a robbery. Considering they left the only things of value, those nautical portraits you purchased, it was suspect.”

  Robbie swore. “What the devil does he want? That’s three suspicious searches in just under a fortnight.”

  “He?” Brett stared at Daniel, who gruffly updated him on the others, as well as Edmund’s involvement. “Do you have something of value that your brother wants? Something that belongs to him?”

  “I have no idea. However, this morning, Robbie and I paid a visit to the offices of Messrs. Shaw, Dodges, and Fuller to speak to my father’s solicitor, Abel Shaw, as his letter requested. It was not a productive visit. Abel Shaw is dead.”

  “Christ, that’s untimely,” Brett muttered.

  It was as if some perverse hand of fate was tossing one obstacle after another into his path. “What was so important that he could not have written it in a letter?” Impatience laced Daniel’s tone. “He died nigh on three months ago. He must have been on his deathbed as I was making arrangements to sail over here.”

  “Perhaps that was what precipitated his writing to you after all these years. A deathbed confession,” Robbie suggested.

  Daniel feared Robbie was right. But he would be damned if he’d give up. Abel Shaw might have confided in someone, and if so, Daniel vowed to find out whom.

  Brett nodded, appearing to consider the matter before venturing to another point. “Do you think these searches and the fire are connected?”

  Robbie lowered his voice. “Bedford can’t find what he wants if he incinerates the place. More so, if Bedford was responsible for that . . . that’s fratricide. Accusing a duke, a peer of the realm of . . . of murder, well, that might go over in America, but here . . . well, here it would be suicide.”

  “Unless he is guilty. Surely even your anointed peerage is not above justice?” Brett rejoined, cocking a brow at Robbie.

  Daniel interceded, seeing Robbie’s expression blacken. “Edmund despises me, but not enough to murder me. If so, he had ample opportunity throughout our childhood. And what would he gain from my death? He inherited the title and all that goes with it. It does not make any sense. I pose no threat to him, and he would jeopardize everything he values if he kills me.”

  They fell silent.

  “We need to begin where it all started,” Brett said. “With your father’s solicitor’s letter. He had the information that he wanted to impart to Daniel.”

  “On that we agree.” Robbie took a sip of his ale and swiped his mouth.

  “So we will begin with Shaw’s partners, who were not in residence when we visited. One of their clerks met with us. We will have to return and speak to one of the partners. Learn where Shaw’s papers reside now, what solicitors took over his work, and glean any other information they can provide. Shaw may be dead, but some seeds of information must be alive.”

  “And find his family. He might have spoken to them,” Brett said. “Or his papers might have passed on to them.”

  “And Weasel, he might have information about the fire,” Robbie added.

  “We will be busy. Good thing I don’t have an expanding company to oversee,” Brett said wryly.

  Robbie waved his hand. “That’s child’s play. Daniel here has a woman to woo. And she wants nothing to do with him, considering he is responsible for ruining her—”

  “Quiet, Robbie,” Daniel warned.

  Brett smiled, studying Daniel with renewed interest. “Well, then you have been busy. However, had you told me you were looking for a wife, I would have given you one of my sisters. I have three, you know.”

  “As you keep reminding me,” Daniel said dryly, well aware his friend knew his sisters regarded Daniel more as a brother than a suitor, having watched them grow from gangly young girls to dangerous young women.

  Brett shoved Daniel’s pint closer to him and leaned forward. “Drink up and tell me everything, particularly the salacious details. Those are the best part.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Robbie exclaimed and slapped Brett on his back.

  Daniel lifted his drink and took a big sip. He would need it.

  HOURS LATER, THEY staggered out of the tavern. Daniel cursed the last pin
t that he hadn’t needed. His head felt two sizes two big and his feet were having trouble navigating the dirt road. Robbie and Brett followed, Brett’s arm slung around Robbie’s broad shoulders. The two men had bonded over their comical—that is, comical to them—suggestions on how to get Julia to accept Daniel’s hand. Bunch of idiots.

  Brett had suggested he scale Juliet’s balcony and spout Shakespeare. Daniel refrained from correcting Julia’s name or pointing out that he doubted Taunton’s London residence had a balcony, or if so, that Julia’s room would be near it. Nor would there be any poetry spouting coming from him. Ever.

  Lost in his thoughts, he did not give the three men walking toward them much heed. When they came abreast of their trio, the man directly in front of Daniel raised his arm. Daniel saw the streak of silver just in time to pivot to his side. There was no chance to fully dodge the knife’s cut, but it sliced along his side, rather than directly into his gut.

  And then the fists went flying.

  A feral rage gripping him, Daniel ignored his wound as he sank his fist into a soft belly. The man released a grunt of gin-soaked breath. As Daniel drew back for another, the man clipped his cheek. It ripped open, the man’s hand breaking the already damaged skin and causing Daniel to see stars as his head snapped back.

  The man followed his punch with another to Daniel’s gut and he doubled over.

  The combined forces of rage, pain, and fear propelled him to straighten up. He landed another punch before the man barreled into him and they flew to the ground.

  One eye was swelling shut and the pain from his knife wound near blinding, Daniel never saw the punch to his jaw. It landed just before Robbie dove over and yanked the man off of him.

  Groaning, Daniel ignored their scuffle, his hand going to his stomach, blood soaking his fingers. “Christ.”

  There was a ruckus of feet stomping, and Robbie was back at his side. His thick mop of hair stood straight up as if someone had yanked it in different directions, but otherwise, he looked as he always looked. Large as a bear and just as formidable.