The Heart of a Duke (25 page)

“I am glad he finished his life in comfort. I would have dearly liked the chance to speak with him. I had a few questions in regard to my father’s last days that only he could have answered.”

Her father nodded. “I understand. There are always unanswered questions when one loses a loved one.” He walked forward and clasped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If there is anything else I can assist you with, let me know, besides convincing my daughter to marry you. I am afraid you are on your own there.”

Daniel summoned a grin for her father, who, after a few moments, nodded and left the room.

When he had disappeared, Daniel broke the silence. “Reilly knew. He knew what Edmund was after. My father must have confided in him. He survived by staying out of the country, as I unwittingly did. Shaw survived by . . . blackmail.” His eyes widened, and he fell silent, turning to pace, as if he needed the movement to get his thoughts going.

She could almost see the wheels spinning in his head, moving him to his next thought. He was the businessman riffling through all the information to complete the full picture.

He stopped and swung toward her. “There is blackmail here. Shaw and Reilly were blackmailing my brother.”

She gasped. “How did you conclude that?”

“It explains Edmund’s debts. Where his profits went, why he needs more money. You heard what your father said. Reilly retired grandly, traveled the continent, bought a plum piece of property. My father was generous, and I am sure he left him a stipend on which to retire, but to purchase acres on the coast? To travel extensively? He was a doctor, not an aristocrat with deep pockets.”

“What about Shaw? He did not live extravagantly.”

“No, but he was a gambler, a cardsharp. He bled Edmund to feed his habit and pay off his creditors. But he was afraid, scared of something that had him drafting a safeguard for his life. What did Fuller say? He had a letter to be made public should Shaw meet with an untimely demise? Fuller thought he feared creditors. He feared Edmund. But Edmund’s fear of Shaw’s revelations being publicized was greater. Thus Edmund did not touch him, and Shaw lived to a ripe old age.”

“Yes, but afraid and guilt ridden, so he wrote to you. He wanted you to hear his confession, but you were too late,” she added.

“Too little, too late
,” he murmured softly, his expression sad. “The epitaph on my grave.”

She gasped and stood up. “Do not speak of such things. There will be no epitaphs on any graves. Least of all yours. As I said, I am a crack shot, and I will shoot anyone who tries to get near you.”

The look Daniel gave her had her holding up her hands and backing away.

“Do not come any closer! Stay back! Remember my father’s words. No battering permitted.” He ignored her words and stalked her, his eyes hot. She kept talking. “Reilly’s death changes nothing. We still do not know Edmund’s motive for trying to kill you. We need to speak to Shaw’s sons. Time is . . .” her words trailed off, for Daniel had caught up to her and was drawing her to him. “We need to . . .” It was no use. She could no longer remember what she was nattering on about. “Daniel,” she breathed.

“Julia,” he whispered back, his eyes roving over her face. “My fierce warrior. You have looked after your father, your brother, your sister. I appreciate that you are a crack shot, but I hope to never have that put to the test. Now I think it is time someone looked after you. And that is what I intend to do.” His head lowered and his lips played over hers in teasing, light nibbles that had her legs weakening.

“We will look after each other,” she whispered, tilting her head back to give him better access to the column of her neck. His lips curved against her skin.

“Of course we will. Together. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.”

“Yes . . . but . . . it is time we changed literary references. I was thinking Robin Hood and Maid Marian.”

He lifted his head, his eyes bright as he appeared to ponder it. “Fine, but even if you are a crack shot, I still get to be Robin Hood.” He nodded. “It is apt in this situation. A displaced aristocrat—that is me—saving the poor people—the tenants—from a penny-pinching king—Edmund. And in the end, he wins the hand of the fair Maid Marian.”

She smiled. “And they live happily ever after if Robin Hood doesn’t get shot, or do anything foolish, or . . .”

He kissed her to silence, which was fine, because she did not really like that ending. She had a far better one in mind.

S
O
how should we proceed?” Daniel asked as he settled back into the upholstered seat of Taunton’s elegant town coach.

“I think you should impersonate Edmund again,” Julia suggested as she neatened the skirts to her carriage dress. “Ducal power humbles everyone. Once they finish bowing and scraping, they scramble to do his bidding before they consider whether they want to or not. And toss in a level of charm. Edmund is haughty, but he could be so very charming and quite dashing, he wasn’t all—What is it? What are you scowling about?”

“For God’s sake, Julia, the man’s a cold-blooded murderer and you are talking about him as if he is a prince.”

Julia drew herself up. “Well, the best villains aren’t just black and white. They are multilayered.”

“Right. Like an onion, and no matter how many of those layers you peel back, all of them still stink.” Daniel snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. Charming and dashing, his arse. How about cruel, duplicitous, and murderous.

“I do not disagree, but how do you intend to extract any information from Martin Shaw if you arrive scowling? We will be tossed off his stoop before his butler can make the introductions.”

He shifted in his seat, refusing to answer. Refusing to let her know she was right again. More often than not, he admired her astute mind, the way she thought dazzling him, but now was not one of those times.

“Stop scowling. You can do charming. For goodness’ sake, when you are not pacing a hole in my carpets, demanding I marry you, or sparring with Brett and Robbie, you charm me. And you charm Jonathan. He follows you around like you can single-handedly win all the wars.”

He shifted again, bristling as he caught the flash of a teasing light in her eyes. She was reeling him in like a fat fish. He frowned, not quite ready to concede. “Very well. What about dashing?”

“Dashing, too. You dash very well. Just like Robin Hood.”

He considered her words. “He has the advantage on me in dashing, for he does lead a group of merry men.”

“And you have Robbie and Brett playing sentry,” she pointed out.

He frowned at the reminder of his friend’s curricle, which followed them. He could not afford to take any chances, not with Maid Marian refusing to stay safely at home. “So they play the guards, I play the blackguard, and you play my lovely fiancée. Maybe we should practice our roles. As I have charming and dashing down, perhaps you should practice.”

“Oh? What should I practice?” She eyed him warily.

“Fawning and batting your eyelashes, looking suitably besotted, like you cannot wait to get your hands on me and—”

“Are you quite finished? Very amusing. Another one of your dreams?” She batted her eyelashes.

He snorted out a laugh. “It was one of my fondest ones, but I am revising it. Damned if your stare, direct and forthright, has undone me. That’s the look for me.”

“I think that is one of the kindest things you’ve said to me.” She beamed.

“Oh, come now, I have said some rather lovely things about your skin, your eyes, your . . .”

Laughing, she held up her hand to stop him. “We are slowing down. Save your charm for Mr. Shaw’s son or his wife, if she appears. Pity Shaw did not have a daughter. I have little doubt she would deliver the papers and whatever else you want after you flashed your smile at her,” she muttered.

“One smile?” Delighted, he cocked a brow.

Unfortunately, the door was opened and the step lowered before he could tempt her with his smile. Julia edged forward to be assisted down. He’d have to pursue the matter later, see if a few well-aimed smiles worked on getting his Julia to say yes. It sounded as if she gave them some heed if she believed they had the power to get women to do his bidding.

He stepped outside, meeting Brett and Robbie, who had drawn up behind them.

Martin Shaw, Abel Shaw’s middle son, resided in Russell Square, and while it was not the West End, it was a respectable address. Daniel could not fathom anyone following them here. Then again, he hadn’t believed his brother capable of fratricide.

“Robbie says the hairs on the back of his neck are crawling. He thinks you should turn around.” Brett lifted a brow, which conveyed his opinion on the matter.

“I did not say that,” Robbie snapped. “I said I have seen the same tilbury following us for a bit and driving to the inch to keep up with us. The horses don’t like it, feel crowded.”

Daniel nodded. “If it appears again, see if you can catch them. They might have useful information.”

“Right,” Brett said. “And if they have guns? I think we should be more concerned if they have those.”

“He has a point,” Julia said, warily eyeing the passing traffic.

Daniel frowned. “Just be aware of anything untoward. They’re not going to fire on us in the middle of Russell Square. This is not your Wild West.”

“True,” Brett agreed. “We’re in refined London, which happens to boast a history replete with plagues, decapitations, torture, dukes murdering their own brothers—”

“Just be alert.” Daniel cut him off. “We will leave the carriage at Shaw’s and have a footman pick it up. We can exit through the servant’s entrance and take a circuitous route home. Does that meet with your approval?”

“Fine,” Brett sighed.

As Brett returned to their curricle with Robbie, Daniel overheard Brett ask Robbie why the horses who felt crowded didn’t share their concerns with Brett. Robbie’s answer was a cuff to Brett’s head, knocking his top hat askew.

Julia slipped her arm through Daniel’s, gripping his forearm tighter than necessary. Cursing the situation, he led her up the front stoop to the entrance to Martin Shaw’s residence.

T
HEY WERE LED
to a drawing room that was decorated with understated elegance, floral wallpaper, pastoral paintings, and a grand piano filling one corner. Sundry pictures and bric-a-brac competed for space on available surfaces.

Julia settled on the settee, while Daniel admired the painting of some nautical scene, yearning to escape into it with Julia.

They did not have long to wait. Abel Shaw’s son strode into the room, a tall, dark-haired man, whose brown eyes behind silver spectacles were sharp and narrowed on Daniel. He dipped his head in greeting. “I am Martin Shaw, Your Grace. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Something in the man’s reserve, an infinitesimal edge of hostility that emanated from him, and made Daniel cautious in his approach. No winsome smiles were going to win this man over. “Mr. Shaw. My apologies for calling without notice, and I will not take up too much of your time. Before I begin our business, allow me to introduce my fiancée, Lady Julia Chandler.”

Julia rose at his introduction and came to stand beside Daniel. She dipped into a curtsy, her smile bright. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Shaw. I do hope we are not causing too much of an interruption in your schedule, but I encouraged Bedford to make this visit, as it is a matter of some delicacy that has been festering for a few years.”

Shaw raised a brow, but held his silence. No bowing and scraping or scrambling to do their bidding. He bent enough to incline his head toward Julia. “Lady Chandler, it is a pleasure.” As the silence stretched, he felt compelled to offer them a seat.

Daniel waited until they were all settled before he leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. “Mr. Shaw, I understand that after all these years, my visit is untoward. However, your late father was my father’s solicitor for decades, and I wanted to offer my condolences to you for your loss. I have fond memories of him, for he always had a kind word for a boy and the unending patience to teach me vingt-et-un.”

Shaw’s smile was brittle, stopping short of his eyes. “Yes, well, my father had a fine hand at cards. But a decade has passed since his employ with your father, so I should be honored that you deigned to take the time to remember him, considering you have not all these years past.”

Daniel heard Julia’s intake of breath as Shaw’s words held a wealth of condemnation, clearly not honored by Edmund’s visit or condolences. This would take more than charm. He edged forward. “Yes, well, let me begin by saying that I was not myself after my own father’s death. Over the years and with Julia’s encouragement, I have come to regret some of my hasty actions in dismissing so many of those loyal to my father. Please accept my sincere apologies if it caused undue grief to your father during his retirement.”

Mr. Shaw straightened, apparently nonplussed at the belated apology. Sighing, his tension appeared to ease. “Yes, well, I should offer my apologies as well. While the last years were difficult for my father, and I’d like to place the blame elsewhere, my father shouldered most of it. As you know, he had a love of cards, and therein lies the true root of his difficulties. I don’t doubt he would have landed on the same unfortunate path regardless of whether or not he remained in your employ.”

Daniel heard the sadness underlying Shaw’s words and cursed his need to press into unhealed wounds. “I did not realize his habit was so consuming. I now understand why I never won a hand from him,” Daniel ruefully conceded.

“Few could. He had an uncanny ability.”

“Edmund, why don’t you share with Mr. Shaw the letter you received? We don’t want to make this visit more difficult than it has to be.”

Daniel tamped down his revulsion at her use of his brother’s name. “Mr. Shaw, my brother received a curious letter from your father. It was mailed to his Boston residence a few months ago. It was rather cryptic. He wrote that it was time for him to return home and claim his destiny, and that your father would explain more when ah . . . when Lord Bryant arrived home.” He cursed the trip over his own bloody name.

Shaw furrowed his brow and nodded. “Yes. It is similar to what he kept murmuring those last days. I am afraid I gave it little heed, for you must understand my father was never the same after he left your father’s employ. And not just due to his gambling or his fight to keep creditors at bay and stay out of gaol.”

“How so? That is, if you don’t mind my asking.” Daniel found himself edging forward on his seat.

“He kept rambling on about a betrayal, and how it would be the death of him. That he would pay the price for it, had a corner in Hades reserved for him and some doctor.” He shrugged. “My apologies, but I always assumed he was referring to you, the betrayal being your dismissal of his services.”

“A betrayal? Was my name, ah my brother’s name, that is, ever mentioned?”

“No. Not until the last. He mentioned a need to speak to Lord Bryant. He was quite insistent upon it, but he never mentioned a letter or anything about a destiny to be claimed. That is all I know. I regret that I can not be of more help.”

So am I.
“You have been of great help. Did your father leave any papers or anything else from his days working for my father?”

Shaw was already shaking his head and looking pained. “My eldest brother inherited most of my father’s effects, which in the end was not much. Anything of value went to pay off my father’s creditors. You are welcome to speak to my brother, that is if you can locate him. I regret to say, Charlie inherited my father’s proclivities toward gambling. It nigh on broke my mother’s heart before her passing. Charlie periodically returns, but more often than not, he is lost to the gambling hells and a world from which I keep a safe distance.”

Daniel frowned. “And your younger brother would not be of any assistance?”

“George? Oh no. Like your brother, he has found his fortunes in America, been there these eight or nine years past. It is unlikely he would be of any help to you.”

It helped only in that it was one less visit they had to make. He wondered if when they located the elusive Charlie he’d still possess his late father’s papers. Daniel feared that what they sought was long lost and their search futile. However, if Edmund was still intent on pursuing this search, Daniel refused to give up the chase. Not yet.

“I appreciate your taking the time to answer my questions. I will not keep you further.” He stood.

Julia came to her feet and smiled at Mr. Shaw. “Thank you for your time.”