Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) (2 page)

"What do you want with him?" He knew he sounded pompous, but the quicker these ladies climbed back into the carriage and went on their merry way, the better it would be for all of them.

"We seek refuge. We have been traveling for several days."

"This is not a cathedral. You will find no refuge here. It's time you moved on."

Plunking her fisted hands onto her hips, the spirited beauty demanded, "You're him, aren't you? You're Rupert. You can't turn us away, you know."

"I am under no obligation to house visitors at Castle Felton." Her eyes burned in response, and he could almost hear his flesh sizzling from the heated onslaught of her gaze.

"This is our home. We live here now. With you." Turning to the other women in her party, she said, "Go ahead. Everyone go in and find your rooms." Then she spun to the driver, either completely in charge or putting on a show of bravado for Rupert's sake. "Get a footman to help you with the trunks." The entire entourage snapped to attention and began scurrying to do as they'd been commanded.

"Enough!" Rupert's bark froze everyone where they stood. One sister was partway up the stairs. Another had one foot on the bottom step and one still on the ground. The mummified woman had begun the laborious process of moving her skeletal being with the aid of a rosewood cane.

The oldest of the non-mummified women stared at him. "You can't turn us away. You're our guardian now, and we have nowhere else to go."

Glancing from her to the younger girls, he felt his resolve weakening. Hadn't he moments ago been melancholy about how uneventful his life had become? He gave a brisk nod. "You may stay the night so you can explain to me whatever plight has brought you here."

He saw triumph flare to life in her eyes.

"But you must leave on the morrow."

Her triumph faded, and the bleak barren landscape of hopelessness took up residence in its place. It pained him to be the one to snuff out the joy that had momentarily softened her features. There was no help for it, though.

They had to leave Castle Felton, and the sooner the better.

Chapter Two

Juliana stood on the rug in front of a grand desk in the study. "You wished to see me?"

Rupert turned from where he sat gazing into the fireplace and gave her a brisk nod. "What brought you here?"

Juliana knotted her fingers together behind her back to keep them from fidgeting. She stood tall, shoulders squared so sharply they could have sliced through paper given the slightest incentive. "You are the new Earl of Mendax, and we are your charges."

"Aren't you a bit old to be somebody's charge? And what makes you think I'm any relation to the Earl of Mendax?"

Anger boiled over and, before Juliana managed to contain it, spilled over. "Old! You impudent knave! How dare you!"

It would have been fine if Rupert's eyes had simply widened in shock at her outburst. That, however, was not to be. After the initial surprise at her tantrum, his obsidian eyes had the nerve to dance with mirth.

He stood then, the way he ought to have done when she'd first entered the room. "Please, have a seat. And pray, do tell me what's brought you here so we can sort this out."

"I must know." She couldn't entirely quiet the tremor in her voice. "Are you Rupert?"

His affirmative answer came in the tiniest of nods, the slightest tip of his chin downward. It was all she needed to encourage her to launch into the abridged version of their woes.

"My name is Juliana Clairmont. My companions are my sisters Eleanor and Eudora. Our chaperone is Mrs. Burnham." She gathered her courage and refused to be daunted by Rupert's intimidating presence. "Until a little over a month ago, we lived with our dear uncle, Fitzwilliam Nevill, the Earl of Mendax. He died unexpectedly. The solicitor sent word to our cousin, William, who was in the army serving on the continent. Tragedy occurred, and William was killed in a skirmish."

Juliana paused then, took in a long breath, and attempted to control the sadness lapping at her heels. "We would have ordinarily stayed at the estate and notified you via the post. At least, that is to say, we tried to contact you, but…"

Rupert held his council and waited for her to continue.

She frowned at him. "Cousin William appears to have gotten himself into quite a bit of debt. The solicitor said the estate and everything in it would have to be sold to settle with William's creditors. We lost our guardian, our cousin, and our home all within…"

Her words broke off as she fought to gain control of the emotions – grief, uncertainty about the future, the weight of responsibility for her sisters. Rupert sat utterly still, watching her.

Juliana gathered herself. "All within two fortnights. You are next in line for the title, and therefore next in line to assume guardianship of us, your wayward distant cousins."

Silence met her, and Juliana was at a loss for what to do. Had she not been convincing enough? What if he did not believe her tale and said they must still leave on the morrow? She had no means to provide for or protect her sisters.

"We don't wish to be a burden to you." Rupert's dark eyes were unfathomable as he watched her. "If you could see us to London and outfit us for a season, I'll see my younger sisters married off to proper gentlemen so they are well and truly settled, no further concern of yours. I'm sure one of them could find a husband willing to also take in their spinster sister."

Rupert's eyes narrowed. "Your sisters seem quite young for marriage."

Her spine stiffening, Juliana lifted her chin and met his midnight eyes. "Eleanor is sixteen, and Eudora is seventeen. With the appropriate match, I believe they could both be content."

"Content, perhaps. But happy?"

Juliana leapt to her feet, irritation coursing through her, heating her face and hands. "Oh bother!" She gave the floor a good stomp to make her point, but the thick rug underfoot swallowed the sound that would have given her satisfaction.

She examined him, but Rupert's expression revealed nothing. A raised eyebrow was his singular reaction to her boorish behavior. Blushing, she said, "You might well see why it is I'm on the shelf."

The corner of his mouth quirked, offering the barest hint of a smile. "I'm sure you're not entirely past the marriageable age."

"Of course not! There must be a duke beyond his dotage somewhere who would wish to wed a woman forty years his junior." Frowning, she said, "Thank you, but no."

Still providing no outward reaction to her unladylike behavior or any of the news she'd delivered, Rupert lifted a hand and indicated the chair she'd vacated. "Please sit. I have some questions."

With a huff and a vexed flounce of her skirts, Juliana settled back into the chair and silently promised to be a proper biddable young lady. Unfortunately, she wasn't so young, and biddable had never been in her nature. She comforted herself with the thought that she need fake it only long enough to see her sisters wed.

"So, the manor is gone? Did the solicitor provide you proof of William's debts?"

She gave a brisk nod. "Chakal Manor is to be auctioned. The solicitor showed me the ledgers and letters from creditors. Cousin William's debts far outweigh what Uncle Fitz had in his accounts. He had us…" Juliana cleared her throat. "That is to say, Mr. Knowles, the solicitor, he evicted us from the manor. All of the servants were discharged. We were allowed to keep Uncle's oldest carriage and a driver to get us here, as well as what we could pack into trunks and load within an hour." Peeking up through her lashes, she tried to gauge Rupert's reaction but continued to be amazed at his impassivity. "It was all rather ghastly."

"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?"