Jackal (Regency Refuge Book 2)

by Heather Gray

  "How is it that Fitz died? He wasn't, as you put it, in his dotage."

  Juliana felt the heat climb up her chest and hoped it didn't make it high enough on her neck to be visible above the modest cut of her gown. Uncle Fitz's death had been rather… delicate. She was certain Rupert's knowing all the details would serve no purpose. "He fell from a horse and broke his neck."

  "And Cousin William? How did he meet his demise?"

  "Mr. Knowles told us he died honorably in battle. If he could have but lived as honorably, we wouldn't have need to foist ourselves off on you."

  Rupert remained silent, and Juliana debated whether or not to push forward and secure the victory. "You must understand we can't leave on the morrow. The solicitor assured me you are the new Earl of Mendax, and as such, our last hope. We have nowhere else to go. You need allow us stay with you here at your castle only until the girls can be wed. I beseech you, please reconsider your position."

  His black-as-night eyebrow lifted.

  Juliana felt the flush of embarrassment. "Do not pretend with me, sirrah." The biting put-down was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Alienating the man, however, would do nothing to help her cause.

  The eyebrow, however, dropped back into place, and his features softened until he looked almost… remorseful. "We have a problem then, Miss Clairmont." His voice was aloof. He could have been talking to himself in the mirror for all the emotion he showed. "Castle Felton is not mine. I am but a mere steward here."

  A cold wind swept through Juliana's soul. "There's nothing for it, then. We're doomed."

  Chapter Three

  Rupert eyed his newfound companions as he sat down to dinner. Heaven help him, he believed Juliana's story, but that didn't change one simple fact: his past wasn't supposed to find him. Burying himself in service to a duke should have kept him hidden. He hadn't taken those steps to protect his own life – not entirely. He'd done it to keep his family safe. Family wasn't something he had in abundance, and that number had now been reduced by two. Most of his other relations didn't even share a country with him.

  Yet here he was, looking at these three ladies – and their ancient tagalong – who had invaded his sanctum, and though he strongly suspected they were hiding something from him, he felt an obligation to protect them. Living in the shadows was his fate, and he'd accepted that. Finding a shadow big enough to conceal him and a gaggle of women, on the other hand, was going to be nigh unto impossible.

  Acknowledging Mrs. Burnham, he asked, "How long have you been with the Clairmonts?"

  Her eyes, sunken in her aged flesh, glowered at him. "I was Juliana's nursemaid from the time she was an infant. You'll help these girls, or I'll cane you myself." She lifted her cane from where it rested against the table next to her and shook it in the air, emphasizing her point.

  Juliana blushed, Eudora's eyes took on the look of wicked glee, and Eleanor covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggle.

  "I own no property and have no income save what I earn as a steward. How would you suggest I help your charges?"

  Keen understanding snapped in her eyes before she blinked it away. "I'm sure I wouldn't know, but surely someone of your position could hire a person to investigate William's life and the solicitor who has maligned his good name."

  The way she kept studying him, Rupert was half-tempted to believe the old woman could see all of his secrets when she looked at him.

  Eudora, with her frizzy blonde hair and spectacles gave him a sympathetic look. "Dear Mrs. Burnham believes Mr. Knowles was not as honest with us as he could have been. She worries we've been unjustly evicted from our home, and that something quite nefarious is afoot."

  Rupert angled his gaze to where Juliana sat, as he tasted the onion soup Mrs. Pembroke had put together upon being overrun with guests. Best known for fixing hearty fare, unexpected changes to her routine didn't always have a positive effect on the housekeeper's cooking. He was pleased to discover the soup was not just palatable, but actually enjoyable, too. Giving away none of his thoughts, he kept his eyes trained on the eldest sister.

  She soon began to squirm under the attention and picked the conversation up where her middle sister had left off. "I admit to being surprised to learn of William's proclivities. He was ostensibly quite the gambler. I'd never have guessed so. William was a dear boy, if a bit soft-spoken."

  "Boy? He was younger than you?"

  Juliana's chin rose in defiance as she held his gaze. "I told you, I am quite on the shelf."

  Eleanor broke into the exchange. "Juliana's the dearest sister ever, you have to understand. She was due to come out before our parents were killed in a carriage accident. She didn't want to leave us with Uncle Fitz and go on her merry way."

  "She was heartbroken, too, same as us," Eudora added.

  "So she stayed on to help Uncle Fitz care for us." Eleanor clearly adored her eldest sister. "That was twelve years ago." Looking at Rupert with luminous blue eyes, the youngest Clairmont said, "Juliana sacrificed her own happiness to see to ours."

  Rupert bit back a smile at Eleanor's dramatics. She was going to be a worrisome responsibility at her come-out, no doubt about it. Someone would indeed have his hands full at some distant date when young Eleanor was truly ready to meet society. He felt a pang at knowing it couldn't be him. Having never expected to inherit, he'd paid little heed to the line of succession. If he refused guardianship, would the next distant cousin be strong enough to rein Eleanor in and keep her out of the sorts of compromising situations her precociousness tended to lend itself to?

  "This would all have been easier if you weren't lying about your name."

  Juliana coughed, Eudora rolled her eyes, and Eleanor gasped. Either the old woman was behaving out of character, or the girls had been schooled enough in the fine arts of womanhood that they had been unable to grow immune to her outrageous lack of gentility.

  Seeing nothing else for it, Rupert met the chaperone's gaze head on. "I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

  Mrs. Burnham set her spoon down with a loud clatter. "You were born Rupert Birmingham. We tried to contact you upon Mr. Nevill's death, but you were nowhere to be found. The girls here thought you might have a care about your uncle's untimely demise. Instead, young William had to die, leaving my girls penniless and homeless, before the solicitor was able to track you down hiding out in Northumberland under the name Douglas Rupert. What sort of idiocy is that?"

  The soup, now cold, had lost its appeal. Mrs. Pembroke and the groomsman-doubling-as-a-footman cleared the table. Rupert turned to Juliana. "You sent inquiries out to find me?"

  She nodded. "Of course. Uncle Fitz always spoke highly of you. We'd never met you, but we assumed you would want to know, so we tried to locate you."

  "How did you attempt that?"

  Confusion clouding her normally confident expression, she answered. "We ran advertisements in some different papers. I went through Uncle's desk, too, hoping to locate your direction, but none was to be found. We tried, honest. I'm sorry we couldn't discover your whereabouts in time for the funeral."

  Rupert forced a relaxed smile. "It's fine. If I'd had any inclination Fitz was nearing the end of his life, perhaps I'd have handled matters a bit differently."

  As the main dish was placed before them, Eudora poked at her food. "What's this?"

  "Neat's Tongue," answered Mrs. Pembroke before stepping out of the room.

  "Tongue?" Eleanor paled.

  An unladylike click-click-click came from Mrs. Burnham before she picked up her knife and fork and began cutting into the meat on her plate.

  With a brief shake of his head, Rupert said, "Never fear, ladies. It's not actually tongue."

  Juliana, her eyes never leaving him, picked up her utensils. "Come now, girls, we mustn't be rude."

  Despite his resolve to remain distant, Rupert enjoyed Juliana's pained expression as she cut a small piece and placed it in her mouth. It was a deceptively simple thing, deciding to taste a bite of s
omething one dreaded. He, however, saw beyond that. She was a woman who would take on anything she'd rather avoid if it were for the wellbeing of her sisters. To an uninterested observer, her action might be nothing more than taking a tentative bite of a strange dish. To him, it was the proclamation of her bravery and courage. There was much more to this jewel at his table than she wanted people to see.

  Rupert swallowed down the pleasure he felt as the look on her face morphed into one of enjoyment.

  "Oh girls, you have to try it. It's delightful."

  For a moment Rupert allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to live a day in the life he'd been born to rather than the one into which he'd been forced. How would it feel to sit in a drawing room and make small talk again? To listen to Juliana play the pianoforte? A sigh escaped him as he contemplated all the could-have-beens.

  The sigh must have been more audible than he'd intended, for Juliana's eyes lifted to his, an unvoiced question brightening their grey depths until they reminded him of the London sky as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

  It had been some years since he'd received the order to go into hiding. Surely the risk was buried in the past, forgotten in the concealing mist of so many English mornings. Perhaps the day had come to consider stepping back into life. Of course it had.

  After all, these women needed him, and Rupert had never been one to abandon a damsel during her time of greatest distress.

  Chapter Four

  Thankful that dinner was over, Rupert secluded himself in the study where he attempted to pen a missive to Thomas, Duke of Stafford, who was both his employer and friend. Thomas owned Castle Felton and needed to be apprised of his steward's changing circumstances. After dismissing another attempt at framing his words, Rupert ran his fingers through his hair and sat back in his chair.

  He hadn't yet written anything down, or he'd be adding fuel to the already blazing fire. No, what he needed to say should be well thought-out before being committed to paper. Struggling with the proper words to use wasn't normally an affliction for Rupert. His time in the secluded north seemed to have stolen his ability to communicate. Either that, or it was genuinely impossible to put voice to all the thoughts chasing each other around inside his head.

  Deciding to keep it simple, Rupert picked up the quill.

  Thomas Stanbury, Duke of Sheffield,

  A distant relative has died. I've inherited an earldom, three female cousins, and an ancient nursemaid/chaperone. The solicitor evicted them from their guardian's home, saying all must be sold. We are leaving Castle Felton within a fortnight. I need to find a resolution that will not leave these women destitute in my care.

  I shall do my best to keep you informed.

  Yours truly,

  Rupert

  Satisfied, Rupert placed the note into an envelope and sealed it with wax. Then he lifted the quill from its resting place and began writing the next message to be sent.

  T,

  Your assistance is required. Please look into the death of Fitzwilliam Nevill, Earl of Mendax, as well as that of his son, William — posthaste. I inherited the earldom, and the women in the earl's care with it. They tell me they are destitute, that the estate's coffers were emptied to pay off debts William accrued. I question the solicitor's handling of matters.

  Two distant relatives who stood between me and the notice of the ton both died suddenly. Perhaps I am overreacting, but I suspect a scheme is afoot. Please see to the investigation.

  I will be leaving Northumberland for London soon and shall contact you upon my arrival. I ask you to treat this matter with urgency.

  Yours,

  J.

  Once both missives were ready for the following day's post, Rupert poured himself a snifter of Mrs. Pembroke's ginger tonic. He sat before the fire and contemplated the flames. His quiet, orderly life was about to change. Lifting his glass to the fireplace, he toasted the death of Douglas Rupert and the resurrection of Rupert Birmingham.

  Chapter Five

  Mrs. Burnham remained abed, but all three sisters joined Rupert to break their fast the next morning. Wishing to understand his new guests a bit better, Rupert sought to gather intelligence about the family dynamic. "So tell me, what sort of man was Uncle Fitz? It's been several years since I last saw him."

  Eudora, the only one without food in her mouth, took the lead in answering. "Uncle Fitz was the best guardian we could have hoped for. I was five when he opened his home to us. He doted on us and was ever so kind and patient. Where another man in his place might have shunned us as an obligation and ignored us in favor of his own son who would one day inherit his title, Uncle Fitz didn't."

  "He taught us to ride horses and climb trees," Eleanor declared. "We weren't forced to spend our days with a governess. Instead, we got to sit in with William and his tutors. I don't know what happened at the end…" Her voice trailed off, and Rupert's curiosity was piqued.

  Juliana stepped into the conversation. "Uncle Fitz was passionate about Chakal Manor, and he taught William from a young age how to care for the estate. I still have a terrible time believing William would have ever squandered so much money. He'd been trained his whole life to value and protect the land and its people. It was his birthright."

  Returning his attention to Eleanor, Rupert asked, "Was Fitz at all ill before his death?"

  The three women exchanged furtive glances before Juliana broke the silence. "He had become more emotional than usual. It wasn't unbearable, mind you – simply out of character for our dear uncle." Changing the subject, Juliana asked, "How is it that you call him Uncle Fitz, too? We were lead to believe you were cousins."

  Rupert nodded, none of his grief showing on his face. "Distant cousins, but Fitz was quite a bit older than me. I spent time with him every so often while growing up. I don't know – I just always called him Uncle Fitz."

  Now it was Rupert's turn to change the subject. "Once the solicitor located me, why didn't you send a missive?" His voice conciliatory, Rupert added, "The trek all the way to Northumberland had to be taxing."

  "I've always wanted to visit Northumberland." Juliana sounded overly bright. "It's such a wild and beautiful land, and your castle here is quite captivating."

  "You forget it's not my castle."

  Her face dimmed.

  Wishing he'd kept the words to himself, he spoke again. "Nevertheless, I'm certain the duke will have no problem with the Clairmont sisters and their sprightly chaperone breathing some life into Felton Castle while we get a few of these details sorted out."

  "You mean we can stay?" Spoken with a barely concealed squeal of delight, this question came from Eleanor.

  Turning his attention to her, Rupert offered a small smile and nod.

  ****

  Juliana's breath caught in her throat. It wasn't much of a smile, but even so, it transformed the normally blank canvas of Rupert's face into a stunning landscape of peaks and valleys capturing the glow of a warm summer sun. She tried not to stare, but it was hard. He had thus far conveyed the impression of being severe and rather grim. In that tiny moment, though, she saw the hint of what he would look like if he were to wholly give himself over to a smile, eyes lit with the joy of it from within. The sight left her shaken. If she didn't know better, she might begin to believe Rupert's stolidity masked deep passion.

  In truth, she didn't know better, but she hoped…

  Fanning herself, Juliana said, "My, it seems terribly warm in here. Perhaps a morning walk around the grounds would be just the way to start the day? Do either of you care to accompany me?" She directed the question to Eudora and Eleanor, of course. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but watch Rupert out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he agreed that a walk sounded splendid. He continued studiously eating his toast, and she pushed her chair back from the table and stood.

  "Give me a second, Jule, and I'll come with you." Eleanor's youthful nickname for her reminded Juliana of her greater purpose here.

  She wheeled
to face Rupert. "Will it be within your means to provide a season for my sisters? They quite deserve to find decent matches, and I don't know how else to provide it should you decline to assist us."

  "I have some business in town this morning." Rupert's voice was kind, and Juliana wondered how she'd missed that about him before. Perhaps the small smile she'd seen earlier had thawed more than his facial muscles. "Seek me out in the study sometime after I return, and we can discuss what needs to happen in order to see to the care of you and your sisters."

  Juliana gave him a quick nod. She couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And don't forget our sprightly chaperone."

  While she garnered no smile such as he'd bestowed upon her youngest sister, Juliana saw his eyes change. Their rain-soaked slate disappeared, replaced with spiced cider, rich with cinnamon and warmed by the fire. Forcing herself to break the spell those eyes cast on her, Juliana spun and exited the room.

  ****

  Once Eleanor left to accompany Juliana on her walk, Rupert took the opportunity to get to know Eudora, the middle sister, better. "How long have you worn spectacles?"

  She pushed the weighty aids up on her nose. "For as long as I can remember."

  "Have you ever been without them?"

  A pained look crossed the girl's face. "I lost them after Mama and Papa died."

  Sympathy tugged at him. "That must have been difficult."

  "It was horrible. Our lives were turned upside down, and we were sent to a new place with strange people, and I couldn't see any of them. I was constantly tripping, bumping into furniture, and knocking things over. I thought for certain they would throw us out, and it would all be my fault."