The Heart of a Duke

by Victoria Morgan

  “I will find her.” Daniel turned on his heel, but Taunton caught his elbow, holding firm.

  “Wait, damn it,” Taunton’s voice thundered. “This is my daughter we’re talking about. I am going with you.”

  “I am going, too,” Brett declared, having followed Daniel inside.

  There was a sharp intake of breath, and Daniel turned to find Emily, her face pale and her hands twisting her handkerchief into a roped coil.

  “Fine. We will all go,” Daniel said, not wishing to waste precious minutes with an argument.

  Robbie entered on those words and surveyed the scene. “Where are we going?”

  “To Bedford Hall,” Daniel gritted out.

  “Now? I thought we were going to Hertfordshire. I can’t believe Shaw’s son mailed your father’s papers to your cousin. It would have saved us saddle sores and a bleeding fortune if your cousin had pulled his head out of bird guts long enough to post a letter on to you.”

  Daniel was deaf to Robbie’s grousing. “Bedford has Julia. We have to go now. We’re wasting time.”

  Robbie straightened to his full, imposing height, his humor gone. “We’ll need new horses.”

  “Already saddled. I was waiting for the cavalry to arrive. I am taking a few extra men as well,” Taunton said, his eyes on Daniel.

  “Fine.” He wouldn’t need them. The rage propelling him gave him the strength of a one-man army.

  IT WAS A short stop at Bedford Hall, and they were on the road again. Edmund’s pompous butler had informed them that His Grace was visiting their cousin in Hertfordshire. His Grace had left word for Daniel to join him as soon as possible, for they had matters to discuss. As if he were a pawn on a bloody chessboard.

  Edmund liked his games. He was forcing Daniel to move to protect his queen. He had an hour-long ride to seethe over it. He sought comfort in the fact that he had retained more players than his brother. He also hoped to meet up with the men whom he had hired to follow Edmund. The more players on his side of the board, the better his position for attack and to save his queen.

  Julia. His heart thudded her name. He would refrain from killing Edmund only if she was untouched. Otherwise, they would indeed be digging a hole in the Tanners’ back pasture, the one reserved for inferior stock.

  It felt like an eternity had passed before they crossed the border into Hertfordshire and the perimeter of his cousin’s property. He signaled the others to rein in their horses, not wanting his cavalry to charge in with pistols drawn. Living with Edmund, he had learned there was something to be said for stealth.

  “Is this your cousin’s?” Robbie asked.

  “His property is down this rutted lane. An iron-gated entrance should be on the right, and woods and bushes border the perimeters. Tie the horses to the gate, and let’s assess the scene before moving in.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Brett said. He had discarded the sling, but his right arm was still splinted and wrapped in a heavy bandage. Daniel warily eyed the arm, but made no comment. Brett had heeded Daniel’s advice about staying home as well as Daniel had heeded his.

  God knew how they ran a successful business together when neither listened to the other. Their success must lie in their blind, single-minded optimism. Or simply a string of good fortune. Right now, he hoped for a dose of both.

  After tying the horses, they eased the iron gates open and proceeded inside. A distant noise brought them to an abrupt halt. Heart in his throat, damn near choking him, his hand closed over the Manton revolver in his jacket pocket. Unlike Julia, he had only fired hunting rifles and was a poor shot at that.

  A man stepped into the clearing, hands raised. “It’s Riker. Hold your fire.”

  He recognized one of the men he had hired to follow Bedford. “It’s all right.” He frowned when Riker jerked his head to indicate movement behind him. Following Riker’s gaze, he found Brett, Taunton, and Robbie with pistols aimed with deadly intent at Riker’s head. “Put those things down before you kill someone,” he hissed.

  “How the hell do we know friend from foe?” Robbie muttered.

  Riker shoved his tweed cap back from his ample forehead. “Come this way. There are things afoot. I sent a man back to Taunton Court, did you cross paths?”

  “No, I received a more personal invite,” Daniel muttered as he followed Ricker into the thicket.

  Riker led them to a group of a half a dozen men, two with their hands tied behind their backs, sporting bruised faces and truculent looks.

  “What’s going on?” Taunton said, his sharp gaze raking over the bound men and the detritus surrounding them. Long coiled ropes were curled up beside a wooden crate with the lid cracked open.

  “Somebody was planning to have a celebration. That’s gunpowder.” Riker indicated the crate.

  “Bloody hell,” Daniel breathed. “He was going to incinerate the place.” He strode over to one of the men, caught him by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him close. The man stank of body odor. “So you like fires, do you? Did you ignite the last one at Lakeview Manor?”

  The wiry man did not respond, just looked mulish, white lips pressed tight. With a snarl, Daniel shoved him toward Robbie. “See that he talks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  The sheer size of Robbie had the man babbling. “I didn’t do nothin’ here. Nothin’.”

  Robbie grasped him by his upper arms and lifted him so the man’s toes barely brushed ground. “Lord Bryant asked you a question. I suggest you answer it.”

  “I did. I set it. ’Twere just timbers. A frame. No harm done.”

  His cohort cursed. “Shut your trap, Monie.”

  Robbie snarled at the speaker, who heeded his own advice, snapping his mouth closed and retreating. “So you were going to take this manor to the ground as well? No harm there?”

  “The toff said t’would be empty. No harm done. He’d come tell us when all was clear.”

  “So why are you lighting it up?” Brett asked, curious.

  The man’s eyes scanned the group, then cast a longing look toward the crate of powder. “I like . . . I like watching it explode and then burn. It’s grand.”

  “Bloody hell.” Robbie abruptly released him, stumbling back as if he had the pox.

  “Bedford was going to light the whole place up. How many of us does he plan to kill? The man is mad,” Brett said, uttering a curse beneath his breath.

  “Be careful when you go inside. Curtis is right, he is deranged. We will surround the perimeter and slowly move in behind you,” Taunton said. “But you need to go. He has Julia.” His usually vibrant blue eyes were shadowed, and he looked years older.

  “He’s right, Daniel,” Brett said. “Distract him or keep him talking until we can find a way in.”

  Robbie snorted. “Shouldn’t have any problems with that. You talk circles around me, getting me to do your bidding whether I want to or not.”

  Daniel clenched his jaw, appreciating Robbie’s stroke to his confidence. His friend was right. He was a good negotiator. He had convinced the most taciturn of New Englanders to trust in him. He hadn’t had success with Bedford in the past, but the stakes had never been this high. He would succeed or die trying.

  The men divided into groups. Some walked farther down the thicket, others going in the opposite direction.

  Robbie, Brett, and Taunton followed Daniel. A vast expanse of green lawn swept uphill to the front entrance. The imposing sandstone house capped the incline with peaked roofs and a balcony lining the length of the second story. To gain entry, it required walking across the lawn or down the lane, in full view of the house. Daniel needed to go in alone and distract Edmund long enough to keep his attention away from the windows so that the others could follow without being seen.

  He gave Robbie and Brett a deliberate look, and then turned to Taunton.

  “I am trusting you to bring my daughter home, son.” Taunton clasped his shoulder.

  “I will, sir,” he said. Taunton’s confidence in him,
and the conviction in his own tone helped to ease the vise of fear squeezing his chest.

  He closed his hand over the Manton and strode into enemy territory, fervently praying that he was not the sacrificial pawn in a final game of Edmund’s as he moved across the lawn, exposed.

  Daniel lifted the heavy brass ring looped through the mouth of a feral lion, and slammed the doorknocker again and again. Its noise reverberated in the silence that followed. When no one answered, he tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. It was a trap, but he had no choice.

  He stepped inside and a guttural growl of rage greeted him.

  He froze, his heart stopping until a feminine shriek and the racket of pounding feet severed his immobility.

  Julia.

  He barreled into the front drawing room. Empty. He careened through a cavernous dining room and then the library, cursing each room and the time wasted until he stepped into the dark-paneled study and located his cousin. Glasses askew, a cut cheek, Theo was bound and gagged in a corner chair. Despite his binds, he frantically jerked his head toward a door standing ajar at the back of the room.

  Daniel raced over to his cousin and loosened the ropes binding his hands. Leaving Theo to deal with his gag, he bolted through the door indicated and bounded up a back staircase.

  “He has a knife. No guns, a knife,” Theo panted from below. “She stabbed a hairpin into his hand to get free.”

  Daniel did not break stride. He took the stairs two at a time, heart in his throat. Knives, no guns. Edmund couldn’t shoot him. It bought him time to negotiate. As to his brave warrior, of course Julia would find a means of escape. He should never have doubted it.

  He barreled through too many empty rooms. For God’s sake, his cousin was a bachelor, why the devil did he have such a grand home?

  Another scream rent the air and his heart stumbled. Other cries followed. A struggle. He entered what appeared to be the master bedroom, and French doors gaped open, leading out to a balcony.

  He sprinted through them, stopping short at the sight before him. Julia.

  Alive, and straining against Edmund’s grip. One of his arms cinched her waist, the other circled her neck, a mean, serrated knife pressed against her throat.

  Julia’s fingers scored his forearm. Half of her hair tumbled loose in long, curling strands. Her eyes widened with fear, and she breathed his name as Daniel released his grip from the revolver and held up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture.

  “I am here, Edmund. I got your message. It is me you want. Let us make that exchange. Let her go. Me for Julia.”

  Edmund emitted a mad, scoffing laugh. “Do you think me that big a fool? She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not yet. Do you have it?”

  “The papers Abel Shaw wanted me to have? No, but they were sent to Theo. He did not give them to you?”

  “That little bird-beaked bastard, he lied. He said he mailed them to you.”

  “Well, then he did.” Daniel kept his voice calm. “I am sure we can get a hold of them in Boston. But if you kill me and the papers are addressed to me, you will never acquire them, Edmund. You would be wise to think on that.”

  “Enough! Just be quiet.”

  He swallowed when Edmund tightened his grip, and Julia cried out. Edmund frantically glanced around the balcony as if seeking an escape.

  Daniel edged closer.

  “Stop,” Edmund barked. “Do not move any closer. Why the hell did you come back? I thought I got rid of you the first time. Why didn’t you stay away?”

  “Edmund, what the devil is this about? You are jeopardizing all you have and for what? What did I do to provoke this? I have been gone for the last decade.”

  Edmund’s face was thunderous. “What did you do? What didn’t you do? You have been the bane of my existence my whole life. Father nattered on about you until I was damn near mad from hearing about how brilliant you are. God, how I hate you. It is inconceivable to believe that I would ever stand by and let you strip everything away from me, not when I was groomed to have it all.”

  “I have not taken a bloody thing from you except Julia. I would say I am sorry for that, but I am not. But I give you my word of honor that if you let her live, I will do the same for you. I have a life in America, we can go there.” He kept his voice level, his eyes steady on Edmund’s, not daring to glance Julia’s way.

  “You don’t get it. You have no idea,” Edmund sounded incredulous.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” He fought to maintain the calm façade that Edmund was losing.

  “It was your life or mine,” Edmund said. “For the title is my life, and it belongs to you.”

  Daniel stared at him blankly. “Excuse me?” he managed, not certain he had heard him correctly.

  “He thought you were going to die, and you did not. You did not! You never do.” Edmund emitted a hysterical laugh. “You were delivered first, but were so damn thin and sickly. And all the others had died.”

  He fell silent as if waiting for Daniel to catch up, to fit the last piece into the puzzle. And suddenly, he did.

  Destined to die like all the others.

  His mother had suffered a full dozen heart-wrenching miscarriages. Twelve babies in ten years. He had heard of his father’s joy at the birth of two healthy boys. But he had not been as robust, nor as strong as his twin. Edmund had stolen the nutrients from him as he had continued to do throughout his life. Edmund had been born larger, thriving, while he had been delivered sickly, half the size.

  So a betrayal was born. His father had not bothered to wait for his death certificate, but had convinced the doctor to change the order of their birth, declaring Edmund his heir.

  “He was so sure,” Edmund spat. “But you survived, like you always bloody do. And father finally had an attack of conscience. Said he was morally obligated to correct past mistakes. For the sake of the estate. He kept droning on about your understanding the land better, more attuned to it and the tenants. Said I lacked patience. As if I was going to run the estates myself, like a bailiff or worse, a farmer.” He sounded appalled at the thought.

  Daniel shook his head as the full picture became clear. “Shaw drew up the petition to the Prince Regent. That is what Shaw held over you? What you have been searching for and what Shaw’s son mailed to me care of Theo?”

  “Yes,” Edmund snapped. “Father kept talking those last days. Would not keep quiet. Nattering on about moral obligations, protecting the estate, purging his soul, and making amends to you for his wrongs. I was his son, too. But he never saw me anymore. Just you.”

  Daniel cringed at the bitterness etched into Edmund’s words, born of a hatred that had festered for years, driving him to madness.

  His father had more than one betrayal for which he needed to make amends. He had wronged them both. They were his sons, but he only saw his heirs, conduits to the estate and the next generation, who was best to ensure that longevity.

  “Shaw drafted the petitions, confessing everything. I would have lost it all,” Edmund cried. “Everything I had been groomed to own. Did you honestly think I would let that happen? I knew Shaw and Reilly could be bought. Everybody has a price, but theirs kept going up. Reilly charging me for trips, land, and whatever his latest venture was. And Shaw. Christ, the man was like a sieve with money, could not stay away from the cards or ahead of the bloody creditors. They were bleeding me dry,” he bellowed.

  “So you started doing the same to the estate.”

  Edmund snorted. “You never understood. You still do not. I am not paying the tenants to feast off my land when I can get the same work at cheaper wages.” Edmund shook his head as if to clear it. “I am not explaining myself to you. This is over.”

  It is time. Come home and claim your destiny.

  He had never been too late, but Shaw’s cryptic missive may have been.

  Good lord. His whole life a lie. It did not matter. It never had. The land was in his soul, but Julia . . . Julia was his heart.

 
He looked Edmund dead in the eye. “You can have it. You can have it all. You asked for an exchange and I am giving you a damn fair one. Our lives for a dukedom. Release her and it is yours. You get your life back, and I . . .” His eyes met Julia’s and he smiled gamely at her. “I save mine.”

  Julia’s lips parted, her eyes widening, tears streaking her cheeks. “Daniel.”

  She did not speak, but mouthed the words. He heard them and so much more.

  Edmund scoffed. “You have been in America too long. This is England. You cannot give up a dukedom. It is not done. Do not take me for a fool.”

  “Let her go, Edmund. Let her go and you live, harm one hair on her head and you die.”

  Edmund stiffened, Julia crying out as he instinctively tightened his grip. “Be silent! It is too late. Too damn late,” he scowled.

  Daniel paled at hearing the ominous epitaph he had once sworn would grace his gravestone. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, seeing the cornered look in Edmund’s eyes.

  “The whole place is set to explode. And that will be the end of it.”

  “You do not want to do that, Edmund. There are too many people who know. I am not alone. Robbie is here and Brett Curtis and—”

  “Robbie has no title, and Curtis is an American,” he sneered the word derisively. “Their word against mine will not stand.”

  “What about Taunton? People take notice of the word of an earl.”

  “You brought Taunton with you?” Edmund breathed. He cast another frantic look around the balcony. “No matter. He is the aggrieved father of a ruined, dead daughter.”

  Julia cried out.

  “Enough,” Edmund bellowed. “Enough of this.” He dragged Julia farther backward, closer to the balustrade as Daniel advanced upon him.

  “Edmund, please, listen to me. It is not over.” Daniel kept moving toward him.

  Edmund dragged Julia back until his legs hit the balustrade. As he glanced behind him to gauge the distance to the ground, a shot rang out.

  Edmund’s bellow rent the air as the bullet ripped through his jacket, piercing the arm holding the knife to Julia’s throat. The wounded appendage dropped and dangled uselessly to his side, the knife clattering to the ground. Stunned, Edmund glanced down, as if not fully comprehending the red stream leaking from the hole in his jacket.