Once Upon a Duke's Dream

by Ellie St. Clair

  “You don’t suppose anyone can hear our conversation, do you?” he said, cursing his foolishness at speaking so openly amongst the group of people .

  To his very great surprise, Alastair chuckled. “I don’t believe so. But you see,” he laughed. “I knew you were not as unattached as you said! You would not feel this guilty about what someone may have heard if you did not feel something for her !”

  Bradley opened his mouth to refute the idea, but Alastair only laughed, slapped him on the back and walked away, leaving him alone .

  * * *

  I t was not until much later that Bradley found himself in the library, sitting alone with a book in his lap and a brandy by his elbow. The gentlemen had taken more than an hour to leave for the stables, and he had then waited another half hour to ensure the house was quiet. The ladies, from what he knew, were all ensconced in the drawing room. He had not taken great pains to get to know any of them particularly well and, given that his focus was entirely elsewhere, could not even recall everyone’s name .

  He did realize the Fitzgeralds were particularly intent on drawing him closer to Lady Lydia, but he had done his best to remain aloof and uninterested. She was a girl, while he was instead much more focused on a woman . While he was still holding himself back from the feelings he had for her, he could certainly admit that he desired Isabella with all of his being. His resolve to stay away from her was quite weak, but he was determined to stay on track .

  Mentally shrugging, he put his book down and rose, his eyes roving over the great number of shelves. He had already searched one half of the library in the early hours of the morning, only retreating to his room when he knew the maids would soon be up and about. However, the urge to check Durand's study was too strong to ignore. It seemed the perfect opportunity, given that the man was out riding. Usually, he would have had Alastair with him to ensure that he was alerted to anyone nearby but that simply could not happen at the moment. It would have looked a little odd if they both refused to ride, for, if Durand was the man Bradley was searching for, it could alert him to the true reason for their presence at the house party .

  The clicking of his shoes on the polished marble floor made him cringe, even though he was now quite alone. There did not seem to be many servants around and Bradley was grateful that he had learned the layout of the house prior to this. Making his way to the study, he turned to glance over his shoulder, an uncomfortable prickling sensation racing down his spine .

  There was no one present, however, and, with a hand that was a little slick with sweat, Bradley tried the door handle. To his very great surprise, it opened at once. He would have thought that Durand would have locked his study in order to keep everything secure, but apparently he was not as secretive — or as careful — as Bradley had expected .

  Stepping inside, Bradley drew in a sharp breath, expecting someone to be within, but the room was completely empty. Closing the door quietly, he surveyed the contents of the study, wondering where to start .

  The study was quite a comfortable room, not at all as Bradley had expected from a man like Durand. Although, Isabella had said it was her father’s study. Perhaps Durand had not changed much. There were portraits of men Bradley expected were previous viscounts on the walls, a desk and comfortable plush wingback chairs the only pieces of furniture .

  It was not like Bradley to undertake such a task, but the need to discover the identity of Roger’s murderer pushed him on. He had the blessing of the Foreign Office and, even if he had not, he would do this regardless. Moving towards Durand’s desk, he sat down in his chair and began to pull open the various drawers .

  He came up empty .

  There was nothing much to be found – accounts, letters and the like, including a few personal letters that brought an embarrassed warmth to Bradley’s face. Durand was involved in some lewd sexual acts, that was certain, but that did not make him a murderer. Bradley probably shouldn’t be reading such things but it was necessary to discover the truth about Durand. Was he, truthfully, loyal to the Crown? Or was his connection to France still strong ?

  Getting to his feet and ensuring that all the drawers were tightly closed, Bradley wandered to the left of the room, seeing a heavy drape that looked as though it was covering a large window, except that it seemed to be a curious position. Frowning, Bradley walked towards it and, with a tug, saw that the curtain, in fact, hid what appeared to be a very large cabinet .

  His heart slammed into his chest as a buzz of excitement flooded his veins. Had Durand something to hide? And, if so, was he to find the evidence he’d been searching for here? Taking hold of the cabinet handle, he tugged it open, surprised at the amount of strength he needed to simply open the door. His gaze flickered over the contents, seeing a large empty space at the bottom of the cabinet, but three heavy looking drawers were above it. The drawers, however, were locked. Frowning, Bradley inspected the drawers a little more closely, seeing that they each had a tiny and intricate looking lock. There was no way he would be able to access the contents unless he was somehow able to open the drawers. He did not want Durand to see that he had broken in which meant that, somehow, he was going to have to find a key .

  A sudden sound of voices had him frozen in place, fear racing through him. Was that not Durand’s voice? What was he doing back at the house so early? Frantic, Bradley looked at the door, seeing the handle begin to turn slowly .

  “I don’t know what you are complaining about, Isabella!” came Durand’s harsh tones. “The man is clearly besotted with you and you are doing nothing to encourage him, which is quite unacceptable. For goodness sake, girl, don’t you want to marry ?”

  Unable to make out Isabella’s reply, Bradley tried to think of somewhere he could hide, pushing the heavy drape back into its proper place. For a moment, he thought about hiding within the cabinet, but what if Durand had to fetch something from it? He would be found out at once !

  However, the handle turned, Durand’s voice became clearer, and Bradley had no other choice but to quickly seat himself in the bottom of the cabinet and pull the door closed behind him. Darkness hid him and Bradley could only pray that Durand would not come to the cabinet and find him hiding there .

  11

  B radley hardly dared to breathe, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to quell his anxiousness. If Durand found him, the game was up. How he was meant to escape from this situation without Durand noticing him he simply did not know, as he desperately hoped that Durand would leave the study soon .

  “That wretched girl,” he heard Durand mutter, evidently talking about Isabella. “The sooner she gives in, the sooner I shall have her wealth .”

  Frowning to himself, Bradley wondered what it was Durand was talking about. Isabella had never mentioned a fortune before now, although he knew that she was the owner of the estate and her father had left her something of an inheritance, but it was dependent upon her marriage. What was Durand talking about? And how did he intend to get his hands on her wealth ?

  Before he could consider the matter further, another voice met his ears — one he recognized. This was Charles Belrose .

  “You wanted to see me ?”

  “Yes. Thank you for leaving the other gentlemen. I know how much you wanted to ride .”

  Charles murmured something that Bradley did not quite catch, although the whining tone of his voice let Bradley know that the man felt quite inferior to Durand .

  “Now, have you made any progress as regards my stepsister ?”

  “She talks to me, but no more so than any other gentleman,” Belrose replied. “Though I have never mentioned my intentions .”

  “Then you need to step things up,” came Durand’s firm reply. “Come now, Belrose! What I am asking of you is not exactly difficult .”

  There was a loud and heavy sigh. “Your sister – ”

  “Step sister,” Durand interrupted, gruffly .

  “Very well. Your stepsister does not seem particularly interested in me, e
specially when the Duke of Carrington has been paying her so much attention .”

  A snort met Bradley’s ears, as he listened intently, the hair on the back of his neck beginning to stand up at the mention of his name .

  “The Duke will not be in the picture for long, Belrose,” Durand said, calmly. “Her affections for him will actually work well with our plans. She will need someone to turn to soon, and you are to be that man. I am quite sure you will be wed before the summer .”

  There was a prolonged silence. Bradley could almost imagine the way that Charles Belrose was staring at Gerard Durand, although he could not tell whether Belrose was surprised at what Durand had said. Was something to happen to him to cause Isabella such tragedy ?

  “You know I do not want to be a part of your schemes, Durand,” Belrose said, after some minutes. “Whatever they are, I am loyal to the Crown .”

  “And yet, you have French blood running through your veins,” Durand replied, witheringly. “You may say you are loyal, Belrose, but I know better. I know that you will bend in whatever way I tell you, simply so that you might call my sister your wife .”

  “That is not true,” Charles said, weakly .

  A loud, obnoxious laugh came from Durand. "Oh, but it is," he replied after his laughter had died away. "You know what I can do to you, Belrose." There was a pause, and Bradley felt a spurt of anger push through his veins. Durand was a villain, there was no doubt about it .

  "However, I will keep my plans to myself," Durand continued, as though he were offering Belrose some kind of marvelous gift. "Your constitution could not take it, I think. You have always been a weak man, Belrose, which is precisely why I chose you for my stepsister ."

  Bradley waited for Belrose to respond, to defend himself, but instead there only came the sound of footsteps and the opening and closing of the door. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, as Bradley realized just how weak Belrose truly was. Whatever it was Durand had planned, he had chosen Belrose particularly because he would not fight Durand's intentions. Did that mean that Belrose might, in fact, be willing to talk to Bradley about Durand if Bradley pressed him hard enough ?

  “What is it now?” he heard Durand exclaim, the sound of a chair scraping across the floor as he got to his feet. He heard the butler mutter something, only for Durand to curse in frustration and leave the room, the door slamming closed .

  Bradley was frozen for a moment, unable to move, worried that Durand might suddenly return to the study without warning. Should he try and escape now, in the hope that Durand would not return ?

  Carefully pushing open the cabinet door, he pulled himself out with a groan, his muscles complaining about the cramped position they had been held. Closing the cabinet door, he pulled back the curtain just a little, seeing the study door closed. With no sound coming from the hallway, he crept towards the door, not knowing what he would say if Durand came back in unexpectedly .

  Pressing his ear to the heavy wooden door, he held his breath and listened. Hearing nothing, Bradley drew in a sharp breath and opened the door, stepping outside and closing it behind him in one smooth motion. To his very great relief, there was not a soul present in the hallway, and Bradley felt himself sag a little against the door .

  “Your Grace ?”

  He jumped and turned sharply, seeing Miss Marriott exit from a room to his right, a look of surprise on her face upon seeing him standing at the door to her brother’s study. Realizing that his hand was still on the door handle, he gingerly let it go and gave her a small smile .

  “Ah, Miss Marriott. We meet again.” He tried to keep his tone nonchalant, even though he could see the surprise and confusion etched on her face. “Are you having a pleasant afternoon ?”

  There was no answering smile on her face, no blush to her cheeks. Instead, she looked straight at him, her mouth in a tight line .

  “Were you in the study ?”

  “What?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “Oh, yes, I was. I mean, I was looking for your stepbrother, that was all .”

  She frowned at once. “He is out riding, as I believe you know .”

  “Are you quite sure?” he replied, trying to sound surprised. “I was certain I heard him a moment ago and came out of the library in search of him .”

  The frown did not leave her face, and, to his consternation, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I don’t think – ” she began, only for Durand’s voice to echo down the hallway towards them both, stunning her into silence .

  Bradley smiled, ignoring the way his heart slammed into his chest in fear. If she told her brother that he had been in his study, then that could prove fatal to his investigation .

  "However, that can wait," he said, abruptly, catching her hand and placing it on his arm. "I had hoped to catch you alone, Miss Marriott so that we might talk about this morning's events." He would not normally discuss a kiss with a woman, of course, but it was the only thing that came to mind that would distract her from his presence in the study. "I do hope I did not upset you," he continued, softly, steering her back towards the library and hoping they would be able to enter it before Durand arrived .

  “Oh, well,” she began, sounding flustered. “I was a little taken aback, I will confess it. I am not used to such … attentions .”

  Bradley looked down at her but her face was turned away from him. However, what he could see of her cheek was turning a light shade of dusky pink, convincing him that she was not at all unaffected by what he had done .

  Managing to close the library door behind him, he let go of her arm and cleared his throat. The truth was, he was not quite sure why he had kissed her. She had looked so lovely in the early morning glow, even though she had been covered in dust from head to foot, in a gown that looked as though it needed a thorough wash. The way her eyes had filled with surprise seeing him, the way she had whispered so quietly – it had all been utterly enticing, while, of course, he was quite aware she had not meant to present such an alluring picture. And now, he only wanted to kiss her again .

  “However,” she said, softly, turning to face him. “If you are trying to use me in any way, Your Grace, then I would ask that you refrain from such actions .”

  “Use you?” he repeated, confused .

  Her face colored, although she lifted her chin just a little. "Yes, Your Grace. I'm afraid I heard you discussing certain our…thoughts toward… one another with Lord Kenley ."

  A rush of mortification flooded him, searing him from the outside in. He had quite forgotten the sense that someone had overheard them, although he had not seen her. Neither had he taken the opportunity to think about how to explain himself, should she give him the opportunity .

  “Is it not as though I am going to confess my true feelings to Kenley!” he blustered, shaking his head. “He is a dear friend, of course, but he would rib me endlessly if I declared the truth of my feelings .”

  “You said that while I was interesting conversation for you and was good company, you had no affection toward me but were using me for information, of which I had imparted a great deal,” she retorted, in an accusatory tone. “You are up to something, and to be honest, Your Grace, I do not want to be toyed with. My stepbrother does quite enough of that, trying to use me for his own intentions to get whatever he pleases. If you truly wish to get close to my stepbrother, then I kindly request that you do so without impinging upon me .”

  Bradley opened his mouth to refute what she had said, but she was not quite finished .

  “I cannot help but think you are playing some kind of game, Your Grace,” she continued, her entire body growing taut with tension. “Yet I cannot work out what that game is. However, I do not wish to be a part of it !”

  “I play no game,” he protested, holding up his hands in protest. “I swear, Miss Marriott, what I feel for you –”

  “Do not say it!” she interrupted, her voice rising. “You are hiding something
, and unless you would like to share that with me, I cannot trust anything you say .”

  He frowned, frustrated that she was laying this at his feet when she herself was also something of an enigma .

  “And did you find whatever it was you were looking for, Miss Marriott?” he asked, with a hint of irony in his voice. “Creeping around in the early hours of the morning, covered in dust? I cannot imagine why you would not ask your brother or your staff for help instead of rising before the rest of the house to search for this item .”

  He saw the way her face paled almost at once, her anger dying away like a cloud going over the sun, leaving in its place a rigid coldness as she shut herself off completely from him .

  “You carry secrets too, I believe,” he said, quietly, reaching for her hand in an attempt to make amends. “I do not know what they are, Miss Marriott, and perhaps you do not want to share them .”

  She stared at him for a few moments, a sheen of tears filling her bright eyes .

  “You can talk to me, Miss Marriott,” Bradley continued, more softly. “I am a trustworthy man, I swear it .”

  He drew her closer to him, lowering his head as he bent to kiss those lips that called to him. He felt only air, however, as she wrenched her head back quickly .

  “No, you will not,” she said suddenly, pulling back and stepping away from him. “I will no longer allow myself to be a pawn in your game. Do not touch me anymore .”

  She wrenched her hand from his and turned her back on him. “I have not seen any evidence of your trustworthy nature,” she replied hoarsely over her shoulder. “You use me to get close to my stepbrother, then pretend that I mean something to you. I cannot trust you. My problems will remain my own .”

  And, with that, she hurried out of the library, leaving the door ajar. Bradley could hear a sob emerge and echo down the hallway, his own heart breaking with the stifled sound .

  12