The Heart of a Duke (10 page)

“I have a bellyache.”

She jerked back. Good lord, had she been leaning toward Daniel? Admiring his lips? She lifted an unsteady hand to comb it through her hair, struggling to focus on Jonathan, who had crumpled onto the blanket and lay curled in a ball, groaning.

“Poor boy, someone has overindulged in too many apples,” she crooned. “Lie down, love. Hopefully it will settle in a little while.”

Daniel came to his feet. Grabbing his jacket from the fence, he laid it over Jonathan. He folded it around his small figure, scooping up a lone apple that had rolled free of Jonathan’s clutch.

The now-familiar flutter kicked beneath her breast. She pressed her hand to her chest as Daniel leaned against the fence, tossed the apple into the air and deftly caught it. He never could sit still. She had noticed that earlier. He was always fidgeting, like a coiled ball of energy. Almost like a five-year-old boy. Her eyes strayed to Jonathan, who was flat out.

“Edmund wants a profit. You need to present him with a business proposal that helps the tenants and profits Edmund. The real problem is the surplus labor that is taking jobs and cutting into the tenants’ wages. Some of these men are foreigners, but many are returning veterans who need and deserve the work.” He frowned.

“So we need more work?” she asked.

“Right,” he answered distractedly, his eyes on Bea, who was shuffling slowly toward them, holding her apron out in front of her. In it, she cradled half a dozen apples.

She spoke to Daniel. “Six bob for the lot.”

Daniel eyed the number of apples and cocked a brow. “In twenty minutes, your price has doubled?”

Bea glowered. “I done picked ’em. That makes the price for the apples
and
labor.”

He rubbed his chin, appearing in deep contemplation. “Four bob and you have a deal. Three for the apples and one for your bold business style.”

Bea huffed out her breath. “Fine, fine.” She knelt and unfurled her apron onto the blanket. Daniel handed over the coins, and she held them in her fist, her smile radiant.

“I’m going to show me mum,” Bea cried. She bobbed a curtsy and dashed off.

Julia smiled. “I see why you are a successful businessman. Very clever negotiation.”

“I am good at negotiating. Had to be to cut a deal with New England mill owners. A bunch of tight-fisted, reticent, intractable . . .” His words trailed off. His eyes studied the apple he held, turning it over in his hand. When his eyes lifted to hers, wonder crossed his features. “I know how we can get more work.”

“How?”

“A cider mill!” His smile was blinding. “The cider mills in New England are a booming industry. In addition to the cider, the apples and edible waste from the mills provide feed for the pigs and other livestock. Mabry mentioned there are still orchards on the southeast acreage, and a few trees are clearly scattered around some of the tenants’ property.” He strode over to the apple tree, plucked one down and brandished it at Julia.

“That will cost you a half bob,” she warned with a grin. She stood, drawn to his infectious excitement.

“Worth it.” He winked. “Edmund gets his profit by leasing the land to a mill owner, the veterans can get work in building and operating it, the tenants get their jobs back, and can also sell their apples to the mill. A lot of owners like a variety of apples to blend and make cider of variable juice types, in addition to making the hard cider. They could also custom press the tenants’ apples, if the tenants desire. They would charge a nominal crushing fee for that.”

“And if the venture is successful, Edmund could reinvest the money he charged for leasing the property back into the mill and glean a share of the profits,” Julia added.

“That is if your duke is smart enough to soil his hands in trade.” He caught her hand, plunked the apple into it, and curled her fingers around it. “You win the prize of the day. You are incredible. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Warmth suffused her. Another compliment.
Incredible
. She might like this one best of all, but
beautiful
was a close second. “It was your idea. I now understand why Curtis Shipping is such a success.”

“You have read about my firm,” Daniel accused.

“I have,” she conceded, laughing at his look of surprised delight. “You have done well. You should be proud.”

Looking pleased, he inclined his head. “Thank you. But I had help. As I have said, I have an American partner, Brett Curtis, who is an old friend of mine. I met him while at Dunbar Academy. To my everlasting gratitude, his mother was from here and demanded her only son be educated in England.”

“It appears that combining forces to work together rather than separately is smart business sense. Good thing I have my faithful squire.”

He grinned. “Let us just hope that Edmund is of like mind.”

Her smile wavered, and it took her a minute before she could recover. “Yes, well, we should head back now. We have already lost one member of our party.” She nodded to Jonathan. “I should collect Emily.”

“Apples and scouting for the Irish eejits take their toll,” Daniel quipped. “He can ride with me. We will tie his pony to Constance.”

“That is kind of you.”

“It is my pleasure.”

His words were soft and warm and curled around her. She stood transfixed before she forced herself to move away. Her steps were heavy as she made her way to the Mabrys’ house, her thoughts straying to Edmund.

Surely he would listen to her. Like his brother, he would understand. They could not be that different, could they? But if she were honest, she had absolutely no idea of what Edmund would do, and that frightened her most of all. She should know the man’s thoughts. After all, she was going to marry him. To spend her life with him.

She firmed her lips and lifted her chin. She would speak to Edmund, and soon she would know everything. She had gotten one side of the story here. It was time to get the other. Edmund’s side.

T
HEY
visited more tenants over the next few weeks. Julia and Emily wheedled their way into their good graces with food baskets and queries about needs the parish might be able to address. While Julia dispersed their bounty, Daniel met with some of the veterans working in the fields, culling those out who had building, engineering, or experience working in a mill. He spoke to Taunton about potential mill owners or men in trade who might be interested in leasing the land.

As he gained Mabry’s trust, Daniel casually asked if the tenants recalled the fire at Lakeview Manor and any discussion of it afterward. Mabry’s reply had been strangely enigmatic, and they were the only words he had ever recounted as having come directly from Edmund.

Fire was of grave concern to anyone living in the vicinity, so his brother had made a rare appearance after the manor’s blaze to assure the tenants of it being an isolated incident. He had told them that now that Lord Bryant had left the country, they were not to worry over it. Mabry repeated Edmund’s words with a dismissive shrug while Daniel had snorted at the strange, Shakespearian edict. All was well, so sayeth His Grace, the arrogant prig of a duke.

But what the devil did he mean?

Had he held Daniel responsible for the fire? And therefore with his absence, they were safe? It had been all he could do to hold his tongue before Mabry. He forced himself to shelve his questions, but they simmered.

Like his and Julia’s project, he had reached another impasse. Until Robbie turned up something in regard to the fire, he had no leads to pursue. And until Edmund returned and sanctioned their business proposals, they could not implement their plans. It was like waiting for the blockade to end all over again. The forced inertia rankled, and he noticed Julia’s impatience was palpable as well. Both shared a restless spirit, biting at the bit to put into action all they had discussed. To act.

Each day his admiration for her increased. Like peeling back the layer of a succulent fruit, he had been delighted to uncover the woman beneath. She was sweet and magnificent. Her striking beauty had first arrested him, then her dare that had culminated in their kiss, but there was so much more to her. She fascinated him.

Why in God’s name is she marrying my bastard of a brother?

Like a knife plunged in his gut, it damn near killed him. When he was not fighting his urge to yank Julia into his arms and kiss her again, he wanted to reach out and shake her. To make a blind woman see.

His mood souring, he brooded as he returned to his room at the inn. The Regal Swan was located on the outskirts of town, a first welcome before travelers reached the village proper. He had chosen it for its location away from the raucous festival near the common.

He stormed inside, startling the stooped innkeeper, who stood behind the front desk. He quickly regrouped, but his expression was apologetic. “My apologies, my lord, I didn’t see you leave again. I take it you have your key this time? Haven’t forgotten it?”

Daniel stopped short, staring at the man as if he had lost his sense.
His key
? The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a sixth sense born during years under Edmund’s fists kicked in. The blockade had ended.

Edmund had arrived.

Worse, the bastard had taken advantage of being his twin to gain entrance into Daniel’s room. He cleared his throat. “No, thank you. I am quite set.”

“Good, good. And as requested, I sent up a decanter of my best vintage cognac. I take it you received it? Did it meet with your approval?”

“Ah, I have yet to have a chance to partake.” He had to give Edmund points for the order, for it was cleverly done. It should set Daniel back a pound note or two.

Nodding to the innkeeper, he hurried upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He strode down the foyer and shoved open the door to his room, appreciating the resounding crash of the heavy oak against the wall and his brother’s startled expression. “Edmund. Do come in and make yourself comfortable. Oh, my apologies, you have already done so. Some things never change.”

His brother’s unguarded flicker of surprise passed, and a look of detached impassivity veiled his features. Time hung suspended as they took each other’s measure, assessing the similarities and differences the years had wrought.

Edmund had settled into the room’s leather armchair, one long leg crossed over the other, his leather gloves on the nearby table and a snifter of the amber cognac in his hand. Daniel found it disconcerting to see his own features mirrored back at him, but their resemblance ended there, for his brother was no longer the whipcord-thin, angled young man that Daniel remembered. Like himself, a decade had etched its changes into Edmund.

The man before him wore his dark hair short, his starched white neck cloth as stiff as his posture, his raven-black custom-tailored clothes like a second skin. He had the pale skin of a life spent indoors, the telltale sign of a pampered aristocrat. In contrast, his eyes were hard and locked on Daniel with a cold and calculating look that Daniel knew well.

Disdain dripped from his brother. “So it is true. Lazarus has risen from the dead. I did not think you would ever return. And yet here you are.”

“And all these years I did not think you had ever given me a thought. And yet you did.” Daniel shrugged. “Guess we were both proved wrong. If I believed you truly cared, I would be touched, but I know otherwise.” He let the door swing shut behind him.

“I see you have adopted the insolence that is common in the American colonials.”

“And the pleasantries are dispensed with. Give me my bloody room key back.”

“You always were proprietary about your possessions. Then, so am I.” He gave Daniel a hard look. “But we will get to that momentarily. A drink might take the edge off your impatience. That has not changed either. You are still like a skittish colt, never could stand still.” He leaned forward and poured Daniel a snifter.

Daniel’s restlessness was a legacy left over from years of being poised for flight. At the mention of possessions, his gaze circled his room, his jaw clenching at the signs of his books and papers having been shuffled around and thumbed through. Edmund always had trespassing fingers. Irritated, Daniel snatched the snifter Edmund offered, careful to avoid touching him. He noted the bottle was already two-thirds drained. Edmund had been here awhile. “What do you want?”

Edmund cocked an imperious brow and sipped his cognac, the ducal seal flashing on his middle finger. “I think the question to be asked is, what do you want? What brings you home after years of avoiding our sceptered isle? There is nothing for you here. Lakeview Manor is gone. You do not hold the title, which you have apparently forgotten since your return.” He took another drink when Daniel remained silent.

“Have you returned for my nuptials? I understand you have learned I am to marry our neighbor, Lady Julia Chandler. You remember Julia? The homely swallow has transformed into an elegant swan. But you know that, too. Who would have thought it? She was such a wild thing, always tromping in the woods saving some pathetic wounded creature.” He snorted before continuing.

“She is quite tamed now, and seeing how lovely the years have been to her, I could not let her fly away. Not when I have a need of a wife, preferably a country bird who will nest at home, while I roost in the city. The arrangement suited me, being neighbors and all. Her family and eventually our own should keep her occupied, and more important, out of my business.”

Daniel sneered. “Why bother with a wife? You should acquire a dog. It sounds like you are training your wife to be a tamed breeder.” Disgust laced his words. “You don’t know Julia if you honestly believe you can plant her in the background of your life like some decorative lawn statue.”

Edmund’s nostrils flared, the only sign Daniel’s barb had hit its mark, for Edmund continued in that deceptively calm manner of his. “Yes, news of her recent activities have been brought to my attention, and it appears she still possesses a wild streak. I attribute it to the bad company she has been keeping of late. Nothing I cannot remedy, and I look forward to reining her in.” He lifted his glass in a toast, a picture of ruthless nobility.

It took Daniel some time to find his voice, for Edmund had always known where to land his punches. This one went straight to his sternum, temporarily winding Daniel. “You bastard. You goddamn bastard.” He stormed to the door and whipped it open. “Get out. We are finished. For Julia’s sake, I had hoped to talk to you. About the estate. About the tenants. I had hopes that you might have changed. Had matured and learned to listen. But you are still the same. Not worth my time.”

Edmund stood and straightened to his full height. Surprise lit his eyes when they met Daniel’s straight on. He could almost see his brother absorbing the shock of their being of equal height and build. It was as if he were seeing Daniel for the first time, and he did not approve of the changes the years had etched, for he could no longer employ his size to dominate. Or to bully.

Nevertheless, he stood in an upright soldier’s stance, his shoulders back, his chin elevated as if that could add the needed height. He raked Daniel with unconcealed contempt. “Nor have you changed. You never understood the estates are mine, not yours. You used to ride over them with father as if you owned them, as if they were yours as much as mine. And by God, you are still doing it. What the devil were you thinking? Going to Bedford Hall behind my back. Using my fiancée to wheedle your way in. Speaking to my tenants and—”

“Somebody needs to do it, because you have not deigned to do so,” Daniel rejoined. He released the door to let it slam shut again, the noise reverberating in the room. He stepped close to Edmund, crowding him. “The title may be yours, but the legacy of the Bedford peerage goes back hundreds of years and will continue for a hundred more unless you grind it into dust with your tightfisted, blind incompetence.”

“That is enough! Good lord, you have resided among the commoners far too long. I will not be spoken to in such an uncivilized manner.”

Daniel bit back a madcap desire to laugh. “My apologies if my delivery offends your sensibilities, but while you may not want to hear this, you would be wise to listen. If not to me, then to Julia. She has proposals that will alleviate matters. It is not too late to save things, to turn them around, but if you do not make any changes, I promise you, you will lose everything. Including the respect of the peerage, which appears to be the only thing, besides profits, that you do give a damn about.”

Edmund sucked in his breath, his face pale. Then a strange, icy calm descended over him and the room chilled. He finished his drink, set it on the cherrywood table, collected his tall hat and gloves, and stepped toward the door.

“You are right. We are finished.” He yanked on his gloves and put on his hat. “I do not know why you returned, nor do I care. Just remember this—stay out of my business and off my property. The title, the estate, the lovely Julia Chandler, are all mine. Not yours.
Mine.
Anyone who dares to trespass on my property does so at his own peril. In the future, you would be wise to remember that. I will not warn you again. My thanks for the cognac.”

He neatened his cuffs, straightened his jacket, and gave Daniel a dismissive nod. “
Runt,
” he sneered the word like a dirty expletive.

As he passed Daniel, he slammed his shoulder into him, knocking him so hard Daniel’s drink splattered over his jacket. The childish aspersion combined with the shove lifted the lid on years of percolating anger.

Slamming his drink onto the table, Daniel caught Edmund, whipped him around, and heaved him back against the door. “No, Edmund. I am a grown man now, and from where I am standing, your equal, if not your better in every way. Next time,
you
would be wise to remember that, for touch me again and you do so at
your
peril.” Daniel dropped his hands and stepped back, unable to bear the touch of his brother a second longer.

Edmund regarded Daniel with white lips, his hatred emanating like a raging storm. After a tense moment, he tugged his jacket into place and brushed off the imprint of Daniel’s hand, as if flicking off something foul that had soiled the fabric. “Well, then, we’d best stay out of each other’s way,” he said, a quiet menace in his tone. With that, he was gone.

The silence following in his wake was deafening.

Daniel stood motionless for a long time. Eventually, he lifted his hands and stared at them as if Edmund’s arms had replaced his own, for brutality was not him, had never been. That was Edmund, and it frightened Daniel to know that he harbored that inside of him. It was another thing to hold against his brother. That he could dredge up the very worst in Daniel.

He snatched up his drink, drained it, then whipped the snifter into the stone hearth, shattering the glass as easily as Edmund had destroyed all his plans. And all of Julia’s delusions.

The only salvation in his brother’s visit was the cognac. He snatched up the bottle, sank into the chair Edmund had vacated, and lifted it to his lips. Waste of damn fine cognac. It would not alleviate matters or assuage the throbbing in his head, but it might wash down the bile choking him and help him to drown out Edmund’s plans for Julia. To forget that she was marrying the bastard.