Jackal (Regency Refuge Book 2)

by Heather Gray

  Eleanor gave her sister a quick hug. "You were having a marvelous time. How could we begrudge you such fun? Besides, Eudora got to dance with a nice young gentleman."

  "Oh?" Juliana's eyebrows climbed as she glanced at the older of her two sisters. "Does this gentleman have a name?"

  "Lucien." Eudora averted her eyes, and, much to his dismay, Rupert realized the girl was well on her way to developing a tendré for the young man. He hoped she would not be too terribly disappointed as the days came and went without young Mr. Fletcher coming to call. The last thing he needed was a hysterical female broken-hearted because she'd been used as a pawn so the minister could get some sort of message to him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After the family arrived home and Rupert bade goodnight to everyone, he retired to his study.

  "Would you care for a glass of port?"

  Eyeing the butler, Rupert gave a negative shake of his head. "Who told you about the advertisement for this position?" Rupert was curious to hear Barrows' answer.

  "Why, I believe my nephew's great-aunt's cousin's uncle read the ad first. Once word of the opening reached me, I hurried over to meet her grace. She's quite a delightful hostess."

  Rupert nodded. He'd used the same explanation a time or two in his day as well. "Please see to the setting of all the downstairs locks. I have some business to take care of here before I retire, but you may feel free to turn in."

  "As you wish, m'lord."

  Once Barrows had taken his leave, Rupert pulled the note from his pocket and opened it.

  Brothers are nowhere. Investigation continues. No word if they've left country or are en route to L. Still nothing from H – no reports, aliases, or known activity. Beginning to think this has naught to do with him after all.

  It bothered Rupert that the missive was not signed. The minister was secretive, and Rupert well understood the reasons, but to send his heretofore-anonymous attaché out in such a public fashion was a tremendous gamble for an uninformative note. He crumbled the message and tossed it into the fire. Either the minister was too old and needed to retire, or he was intentionally making obvious moves to appear desperate. If The Hunter thought the crown's men played the game so poorly, he might let his guard down and make an equally bold move.

  Rupert kicked at an imaginary rock and muttered, "I'm the mouse, and the minister is dangling me at the end of a string to antagonize the cat into attacking."

  "What was that?"

  Rupert spun to see Juliana standing in the doorway. "I was lamenting the life of a man with three beautiful women living under his roof. Nothing more."

  "Is it so terrible, then, having us here?" The words might have sounded petulant, but her voice betrayed her. She wasn't in the least upset. "And, in point of fact, there are four of us."

  Rupert winced. Best to let Juliana think he'd accidentally overlooked Mrs. Burnham when he'd mentioned beauty. "It is a frightful mess, I dare say. Forced to endure the pleasant company of intelligent companions after I'd gotten so used to being a hermit locked away in his castle. I'm not sure how much more of it I can bear."

  Laughter lit her eyes from within. "A terrible fate indeed. Perhaps we should find a way to lock the brooding beast back in his dungeon."

  "Brooding beasts are terribly difficult to capture, I'm afraid. It might take years to apprehend this one and put him away where he belongs."

  Juliana moved through the room, her touch light as she traced a finger first along his desk, then across the edge of a table as she neared Rupert. She stopped upon reaching the chair by which he stood. "What happens if the beast discovers life outside the dungeon is worth fighting for?"

  Rupert's breath caught in his throat at the same time his body reacted to her nearness. Then he took in a lungful of air, and the truth hit him. "You've been drinking."

  She shrugged, and the dressing gown held in place by a snug sash loosened slightly. He wanted to stare, hoping for a glimpse of bare flesh along her neckline, but he spun on his heel and paced away.

  "More than one dance partner brought me a cup of refreshment this evening at the ball. I'm afraid either the entire bowl of lemonade was contaminated with whiskey, or some of those gentleman carried hidden flasks on their persons."

  "I doubt it was whiskey, but I should have warned you nonetheless. I'm sorry."

  "By the time I realized the peril, you ordered us to collect our wraps."

  "Do you need to sit down?"

  She shook her head. "Oh." With her hands, she gently grasped the offending part of her body and stopped its side-to-side motion. "I've never had strong drink before. I was several dances in before I became aware something was amiss, but even then I thought I could manage okay."

  "You could have declined to dance and returned to where I stood with your sisters."

  "I wanted to make you jealous." Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened with surprise. "I didn't mean to say that."

  Rupert couldn't stop the smile pulling the corners of his mouth upward. "You quite succeeded."

  "You were jealous?" Her hand moved to rest over her chest, where she would be able to feel the beat of her own heart.

  "You needn't sound so surprised."

  "I meant what I said that one day. Sometimes I think you're not very fond of me. Tonight we danced, and…" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes closed. She swayed as though reliving the moments of their dance.

  Before he could stop himself, Rupert stood in front of her, taking her right hand in his left and placing his right on the small of her back. He couldn't deny her – or himself – the pleasure of another dance. Ever so slowly, he waltzed her around the furniture of the study. After a couple turns skirting along the edge of the room, Juliana laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

  Rupert resisted the urge to draw her into an even closer embrace. He would savor this moment, the time Juliana was of her own free will in his arms without a single cross word between them.

  "Whether on accident or not, it was in your eyes tonight." Her voice was so quiet Rupert had to strain to catch the words. "You don't want people to know you feel, but your eyes betray the truth. I shall endeavor in the future to watch more closely so I can hear what your eyes say rather than the words issued forth by your distracting lips."

  Rupert gave in and pulled her closer. "What truth do my eyes betray?"

  "I don't always understand you, but I'm trying. Sometimes you jest, yet your face gives nothing away, and I snap back because I think you meant to be unkind. Tonight, when I said something about your smile, you were hurt then, too."

  They continued to waltz, and Rupert wondered how to respond. She hadn't asked a question, not really.

  "Why have you not corrected me when I've been wrong? I know there have been times I've acted the shrew because I misunderstood you, but you've never given me a set-down for it. Why not?"

  Rupert would have shrugged, but he didn't want to disturb the shoulder pillowing Juliana's cheek. "Habit, mostly."

  "It's a habit not to tell people they're wrong about something, about you?"

  He bit back a smile. "It's more complicated than that."

  "Is it because you were a valet before you became a steward?"

  Her voice floated somewhere between wakefulness and sleep as Rupert continued to move her about the room in the halting steps of a waltz obstructed by furniture. He wondered how much of this conversation she would remember in the morning. "Sometimes I look at a person and realize it's more important to them to think they're correct than it is to me to be proven so. If that's the case, I let it go."

  "Even if that person takes it as an admission that you're wrong and they're right?"

  This time he did shrug. He needed to change the subject. "Did you enjoy your first ball?"

  Another sigh. "I'd rather have spent my dances with you."

  Rupert's step faltered, but he recovered without spilling either of them across the footstool a maid must have left out. "I will be surprised if y
ou don't end up with several callers on the morrow."

  "Pshaw. I've no need of gentleman callers."

  "Why not?"

  She snuggled into his shoulder. "Once I get the girls safely married, I'll be free to do as I please."

  "And what, pray tell, will you be pleased to do?" He expected her to say she wanted to travel, dance the night away, or perhaps even take her place in society and oversee the societal goings on of a younger generation.

  Instead, she slowed her movement until their waltz was barely more than a slow shuffle. "I shall endeavor to learn the many secrets you hide behind your mask, Cousin Rupert." When he thought she couldn't surprise him any further, she reached up on tiptoe and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. "And, too, I will try to learn not to call you Cousin."

  Juliana left the study before he formulated a response. Had she really just…? Rupert lifted his hand to the cheek she'd kissed. He rested his fingers against the stubble-roughened skin and smiled to himself. If Juliana was this generous with her affection whenever she had too much to drink, he might have to reconsider his position on spirits at the dinner table.

  Chapter Eighteen

  January 27, 1817

  An invitation to dinner arrived midmorning the next day. Grace wanted them to dine at the duke's residence. Rupert jotted a reply and told Barrows to see to its delivery. Almost immediately after, visitors began arriving, begging an audience with Juliana. She, the girls, and the faithful Mrs. Burnham were in the sitting room. After the fifth gentleman passed by his study door without a glance in his direction, Rupert threw down his quill.

  He had no license to be angry, no reason for it even. And yet… if it weren't for the threat of the Stanwich brothers, he would storm out the front door and go in search of a long, exhausting walk. Perhaps he should have danced with other women at the ball last night. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so agitated by all the attention Juliana was receiving.

  Trying to turn his mind to more important matters, he thought about sending a note off to Tobias requesting an audience but decided against it. The less contact they had with each other, the better. It wouldn't do for him to act rashly after receiving the minister's missive the night before. He would prefer it if they told him he was being used as bait rather than keep him in the dark while they made attempts to draw out The Hunter. That part still rankled. Was Tobias in on it as well, or did this scheme belong strictly to the minister? For Tobias' sake, he hoped it was the latter. Until everything played out, though, there wouldn't be a good way to find out for certain.

  ****

  Evening came, and Rupert accompanied Eleanor, Eudora, Juliana, and Mrs. Burnham on a walk across and down the street to Thomas and Grace's residence. Frederick, the butler, welcomed them with nary a smile. "I'm telling you, they all go to butler school." She muttered it under her breath, but Juliana's words didn't escape Rupert's hearing.

  She'd not said a word to him about the night before. They'd breakfasted at the same table and been in and out of each other's space throughout the day, but as far as he could tell, she had no recollection of their moonlit dance.

  "Juliana, Eleanor, Eudora, welcome!" Grace's effusive greeting blew past Rupert as if he weren't even present. "Mrs. Burnham, you too! So good to see you."

  The old woman muttered something about death and old bones. Grace either didn't hear or chose to ignore her. Rupert, for his part, wished to applaud her gloomy outlook. Maybe if he enlisted Mrs. Burnham to answer the front door tomorrow Juliana would have fewer suitors.

  Rupert mustered his good cheer. "I don't even get a notice then, your grace?"

  She waved her hand. "Pish posh, Rupert! You already know you're welcome."

  Thomas elbowed him. "She's got you there."

  As they all took their seats at the table, Rupert asked, "So how is Master William these days? I need to come over during the day soon and say hello to him."

  Grace beamed. "He's the most charming young man you'll ever meet. He puts his father to shame in that department."

  Thomas quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

  "He always knows what to say, for starters."

  The duke sent a sardonic look Rupert's way. "The boy has one word in his vocabulary. 'Mama'. And for that he's more charming than Lord Byron himself, or even the Prince Regent."

  "Not to mention his father," Grace quipped.

  Rupert glanced around the table. "I thought you had a guest."

  Thomas nodded his thanks to the footman serving his soup. "He'd planned to join us this evening but has taken ill, I'm afraid."

  Juliana lifted up her spoon. "You said he's a friend of your father's?"

  Grace winked at Eleanor and Eudora as she picked up her napkin and tucked it into the bodice of her dress. "They met overseas during one of Thomas' father's trips abroad."

  Eleanor giggled, while Eudora's eyes widened in horror.

  "You'll have to excuse my wife." Thomas' apology encompassed everyone present. "She has atrocious table manners and is wont to dump food on herself at any given moment."

  Grace's ebony curls bounced as she shook her head. "Don't let my husband fool you. I am quite capable of behaving in the manner typical of a lady whenever I wish. It just so happens that I have abominable luck when it comes to soup. Neither is it limited to what's in my spoon. I've dumped entire tureens on people before."

  "Which is precisely why the footmen are ordered to remove all soup and soup-related dishes and utensils from the dining room posthaste whenever their use is complete. Sometimes even before." Thomas winked at his wife, and his love for her shown on his face.

  "Uh, did your father travel often?" Juliana appeared nonplussed by Grace's behavior and the banter she shared with her husband.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rupert watched Mrs. Burnham tuck a napkin into her bodice as well. She noticed him staring and scowled. Then she lifted her fork with a white-knuckled grip and made a downward stabling motion with it before calmly returning it to its place and picking up her spoon. Rupert glanced around the table. No one else seemed to have noticed Mrs. Burnham's threatening behavior. Pulling his attention away from the frightful woman proved a challenge, but he eventually managed to return his focus to the conversation circulating amongst the diners.

  Thomas was answering Juliana's earlier question. "…extensive. Even after all these years I'm not entirely certain I know everything he was involved in. He made at least two diplomatic trips abroad, though, on behalf of the crown."

  "Diplomatic?" Eudora's interest was captured. Rupert had a feeling young Lucien had implied he worked with a diplomat.

  "Yes." Thomas gave his attention to the sister. "My father served in the House of Lords. Many of the roles he filled are well documented. There are some gaps, however, and I believe that's where his travel abroad came in."

  Juliana's brow furrowed in concentration. "Was it unusual for him to travel without his family? My father occasionally journeyed without the rest of us, but we always knew where he was going. I imagine it's quite different for a duke."

  Thomas waved the hovering footman in so the man could clear the dishes from the table. "I was away at school during the period in which Father traveled, and my mother can't recall. It's neither here nor there. Devin has been an exemplary guest."

  "Devin?" Rupert became increasingly curious about Grace and Thomas' houseguest. "That doesn't sound English."

  Grace, the soup course of the meal past them, removed the napkin from her bodice amid muffled giggles from Eleanor. "Stop being so suspicious, Rupert. Did I mention Margaret asked after you? Elsie, too."

  "Who are Margaret and Elsie?" Eleanor wasn't the most subtle chit in the world, but because of her youth, she could get away with it.

  "Elsie is my lady's maid, and Margaret takes care of young William for us."

  "How do they know Cousin Rupert?" The man in question nearly choked on his water at the petulant sound of Eleanor's voice. Before he could say anything, Juliana spoke up.

&nb
sp; "Eleanor, dear, Cousin Rupert had an entire life before we stumbled into it. It's natural he would know other women." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Juliana reached up a hand as though to grab them back. "People, I mean. It's natural he would know other people."

  Thomas hid his smile behind his napkin while Grace ignored the fuss and answered the question. "Once Thomas and I were wed, he left for the continent. He wished for me to stay at Castle Felton. Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke were the entirety of the staff in residence at the time. Rupert became the steward and helped me through some of the difficulties of those early days. Margaret and Elsie both lived in Felton and came to work for me at the castle. Since there were so few of us, we all became quite close, near to family, I'd say."

  Rupert winked at Eleanor. "You think it's scandalous that her grace would tuck a napkin into her bodice, but you should have seen the look on the vicar's face upon joining her at Castle Felton one evening for dinner. She brought him to the kitchen to eat with us lowly servants."

  Eudora made a noise. Rupert would have called it a grunt if such a word didn't imply the unladylike nature of the sound.

  "I didn't see the point, and you know it." Grace eyed Rupert. "There was not a single reason to serve me in the formal dining room at every meal. What a ridiculous overindulgence! It was much easier for us to eat together."

  "Like a family!" Eleanor's enthusiasm for the duchess' explanation pained Rupert. If he knew his young cousin well at all yet, he was certain he could expect to find her eating with the servants on the morrow.

  The appalled look Juliana sent his way told him she saw the same future as he. He tipped an imaginary hat to her. Let Eleanor's sister deal with that particular problem. He would be happy to stay out of it.

  Mrs. Burnham cackled as she picked up her fork.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After an evening of mostly enjoyable company, including games in the sitting room, Rupert and the Clairmont sisters excused themselves to make the trek home. He carried his cane in a loose grip and had one of each of the younger sisters' hands looped through an arm. Juliana walked beside them, and Mrs. Burnham trudged behind with a slight lag. He'd have much rather had Juliana's hand in the crook of his elbow, but he'd found he couldn't deny Eudora and Eleanor. Their show of familial acceptance warmed his heart and made him want to be worthy of their affection.