Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) (8 page)

A delicate frown marring her brow, Grace continued, "I have difficulty believing you've inherited a title and extensive family but have been left penniless to provide for them. I expect you to get to the bottom of it."

"I intend to."

Grace's laugh trilled in the early evening air. "That's the Rupert we all know and love. If anybody can sort this mess out without ruffling any feathers, it'll be you."

****

Juliana listened through the window of the carriage. She hadn't planned to eavesdrop, but the woman's voice carried so well, she couldn't help but hear everything being said. An unfamiliar feeling twisted its way through her middle as she listened to the familiarity with which the duchess chatted.

The door opened with sudden force, and light flooded in. Temporarily blinded, Juliana stared at the backlit figure of the woman standing between her and fresh air. "We've had a slight change of plans, ladies, but your new temporary residence is but a short jaunt from here. Would you prefer to get out of the carriage and stretch your legs or have it deposit you there?"

Eudora and Eleanor were out the carriage door before Juliana had a chance to answer. It was a miracle the duchess didn't get mowed down. Juliana glanced at Mrs. Burnham to see what the woman wished to do. A knowing smile met her. "Go ahead, dear. You might as well get a good look at her. I'll be directly behind you." Mrs. Burnham had first been hired as a nursemaid upon Juliana's birth. She'd been with the family ever since. Her fierce loyalty had no compare, but every now and then Juliana wished she wasn't quite so transparent to the older woman.

As she stepped from the carriage, Juliana took in the lovely townhome. It would have been nice to reside in such a fine place, even as guests for a short time. Grosvenor Square, though, was anything but affordable. The duke and duchess must hold Rupert in high esteem to be willing to lay down the funds needed to rent him a home, even if only for a month.

Before she managed to pull her thoughts together and form a coherent greeting, she found herself tugged along, her arm looped through the duchess'.

"I have a feeling we're going to be great friends, but you'll need to tell me your name if I'm ever to name one of my children after you."

Juliana's gaze shot from the duchess to Rupert. Beneath the quirked eyebrow he offered, she was almost certain his eyes laughed at her. She swiveled her head around to look where she was going. At the pace Grace set, Juliana needed to pay attention or risk falling and making a grand spectacle of herself.

The duchess came to a sudden stop in front of a modest townhome. It was across the street and six doors down. Eudora and Eleanor joined them as the door opened. A stalwart man stood there, his face completely blank. "Welcome, your grace. Are these our new residents?"

Rupert approached. "I say, your grace, you didn't hire staff for us, did you?"

The duchess offered a sparkling smile and said, "Of course I did. If you stayed with us, you'd have had access to the entire staff, and I could do no less for you here. It was the oddest thing. I placed the advertisement to hire, and exactly one person showed up for each position. You've a full complement of staff to meet all your needs while you're with us in London. Except for a valet. I thought you'd prefer to select one yourself."

Rupert tugged at his neck cloth. "Your grace, you shouldn't have."
I'd rather eat molten glass than be dressed by another man.
The irony wasn't lost on him. After all, he'd once served as the duke's valet.

The duchess batted her eyelashes and said, "You have my leave to call me Grace, you know. Let me do this for you, Rupert. There's no changing my mind, so you might as well stop pestering me about it."

"Pestering?" Juliana bit back a chuckle at the incredulous look on Rupert's face.

Grace winked at her. "I dare say, Rupert, you need to get yourself under control or people might in fact know what you're thinking. You could take a lesson or two from Barrows, here." She waved her hand loosely at the butler. "Maybe you should ask him how he always keeps his face so blank."

Rupert sputtered, and Juliana's laughter spilled over.

Tugging her up the steps, Grace said, "I knew Rupert for over six months before I ever saw him smile. It was quite by accident, too. After that, I made it my goal in life to get at least one smile out of him each day we were stuck at Castle Felton together."

The duchess had to be close to her own age, but she brought to mind the spirited antics of Eleanor's youth. Grace wasn't anything like Juliana had expected a dignified lady of the
ton
to be.

"I thought the blank stare meant he was angry with me." Juliana hadn't intended to give voice to the words. When she heard the sudden intake of breath behind her, she resisted the duchess' pull on her arms and looked back at Rupert. His face hadn't changed, other than a slight tightening around his lips, but his eyes showed something different.
I hurt him.
The duchess pulled her through the door and into the foyer before Juliana could decipher how she felt about Rupert's reaction.

****

Later, as night swaddled their temporary home in its warmth and comfort, Juliana saw to it that Mrs. Burnham was settled into her room and that Eleanor and Eudora were comfortable. They were all so weary from the journey to London she doubted anyone would have difficulty sleeping.

Before retiring to her own chamber, she went down to the library in search of a book. She didn't know what she hoped to find, but anything to distract her from memories of the pained look she'd seen in Rupert's eyes that afternoon, or the potent look they'd housed the evening before, would be welcome. Juliana took a deep breath as she stepped into the library… and was confronted with the sight of the selfsame person consuming her thoughts.

"Juliana." His voice cordial, he stood as she entered the room.

"Oh." Surprise caught in her throat. She began to back out over the threshold. "I'm sure you're busy."

"Not at all." He regained his seat in a chair by the window. Little more than inky blackness greeted him from outside. There couldn't be much for him to watch through the panes of glass.

"Are you reading?" No candle sat on the table near his elbow, and she didn't think he could be enjoying a book, but what else is a person supposed to say upon stumbling across someone in a library?

His voice was as emotionless as his face appeared to be in the dim light from the fireplace. "I was contemplating the birds in the garden and worrying about whether or not I will have the funds to provide the season you want for your sisters. And… trying to decide if a season is what's best for them. Haven't they been through enough upheaval of late? Perhaps another year without the pressure of finding a match would serve them both well."

"I – I want them wed as quickly as possible."

"Because you believe it's best for them or because you wish to circumvent the betrothal contracts?"

Juliana stood inside the entrance to the library, her hands clasped in front of her. She didn't know what to say. This Rupert was different than the one she had gotten used to at Castle Felton and during their long journey to London. He was almost… gloomy. "If I knew for certain the betrothal contracts could be invalidated, I would not push for the season."

Rupert rose again and moved stiffly across the room until he stood before one of the many shelves of books. He perused the titles, every so often taking one out to get a closer look, then sliding it back into place. Apparently finding one he liked, he pivoted to face Juliana but made no other move toward her. "I've not been angry with you, you know."

Chagrined, she said, "That slipped out of my mouth before I was able to stop it. I'm sorry you heard it. At times, though, you do seem as if you dislike my presence."

"I may not display emotions as flagrantly as some, but that doesn't mean I don't have them."

Juliana tilted her head to the side the slightest bit as she inquired, "Have you always been unaffected?"

Leaning on his cane more than she was accustomed to seeing, Rupert moved toward her. "I am not as unaffected as you would choose to believe. However, to answer your question, I was trained from a young age to keep my responses hidden, to tuck those sudden reactions away deep down inside where nobody but God saw them."

"Why? Why would anybody train their child in such a way?" It occurred to her then. "Were you raised to be a butler? Is that how butlers are brought up?"

Rupert threw his head back in laughter, and Juliana found herself speechless. His olive skin glowed with humor, and a smile stretched across his face, transforming every crevice of his features, bringing them to life. His midnight eyes, usually serious, danced with mirth.

Ever so slowly, his laughter died down. He made no move to rush the quiet. As silence settled over them again, it felt comforting to Juliana, familiar even. And she treasured it. Rupert handed her the book he'd selected. "This is a good one. You might enjoy it."

She inspected the cover.
Letters Writ by a Turkish Spy
. Having planned to find a novel about love and relationship, she squinted. "You think so?"

Rupert moved past her and took another step toward the library's exit. He paused at her words, though. With his face still angled away from her, he addressed the words she'd said to Grace earlier in the day. "In case you're wondering, I'm not immune to your likeability. Not in the least."

His cane clacking lightly along the floor, he left her standing there in the library. Juliana moved to the door and followed him with curious eyes. The butler, Barrows, was standing across the way near the townhome's entrance. He appeared to be conferring with a man she didn't recognize as one of the staff. Rupert greeted the stranger with familiarity. The two glanced back at her and spoke in hushed tones before adjourning to the study.

What on earth is that all about?

Chapter Fourteen

Rupert seated himself behind the desk, thankful Grace had found them a townhome already furnished so that he had a duly appointed study in which to conduct business – and occasionally brood. Nodding to the man across from him, he said, "Tell me what you know."

"I've dispatched Owen back out to Chakal Manor to investigate further. The agent I sent before dug up some irregularities but couldn't make hide nor hair of them."

"Owen's a good investigator?"

Tobias nodded. "The best I have on staff since you left."

A hint of a smile crossed Rupert's face. "That wasn't exactly my forte to begin with."

"Do you ever miss the adventure?"

Rupert didn't have to think long before answering. "I used to, but then you asked me to keep an eye on the duke, and I got tangled up in his life and discovered something."

Tobias lifted an eyebrow.

"All the years of pretending to be someone I'm not in order to ascertain people's motives and allegiances – those skills are just as valuable in day-to-day living. Understanding why people make the choices they do and who they're ultimately serving – it matters somehow."

"Were you happy as a steward in Northumbria?"

Rupert waggled his hand. "Life became a little too boring once the duke and duchess left for the ducal seat. I thought about leaving to open a small investigative firm of my own in another part of the kingdom, maybe even in one of the overseas territories. I hadn't taken any action yet. Too many loose threads, as you know."

Tobias picked up the thought and completed it for him the way someone who's known a person for decades can do. "And you'd grown fond of the duke and duchess. Living out the rest of your years isolated from people wasn't going to be good enough for you anymore."

Shrugging, Rupert changed the subject. Tobias was too close to a truth he wasn't yet ready to voice. "Any word on The Hunter, then?"

With a frown, Tobias said, "Not even a syllable. He's either dead or deeply underground. There's not even the whisper of a rumor that he's surfaced again. Are you sure you didn't kill him in Austria?"

"He rode away, but beyond that, I have no idea." Rupert's hand tapped out an impatience
rat-a-tat
on the desktop. "If Uncle Fitz was somehow killed… Am I borrowing trouble by saying The Hunter is behind it?"

Not one to dance around the issue, Tobias answered. "For now, it seems everything can be laid at the door of these brothers, but we'll know more once Owen is able to dig about a bit."

Rupert resigned himself to what would likely be a long wait for answers. "You instructed me to make the trip to London using my real identity. I assumed that move was intended to draw out The Hunter."

"Partly, but not entirely. Once the filings are made official, you will indeed be the new Earl of Mendax. If anyone investigates your sudden appearance, there needs to be a trail for them to follow, even if it's just the journey here. No one will think anything of there being no record of you in Northumberland. Most people think of it as an untamed and lawless land. If you suddenly appeared in London, though, with no record of how you arrived… Questions would be raised."

"I can't believe Fitz is gone." Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wouldn't it have been better if I'd gone straight to Chakal Manor and skipped London entirely?"

Tobias shook his head. "We need to remain vigilant and take nothing for granted, but you can't seclude yourself to the extent that rumors begin circulating about you, either."

Rupert gave him a resigned nod. "Walk the line, then, between daylight and shadow."

Tobias stood. "We walk in the daylight so we can do our work in the shadows. You know that."

Rupert showed Tobias out before returning to the study. He stared into the fire and contemplated the future. It had taken a year after his injury in Austria before he'd been able to return to duty, and even then, he was on limited assignment. The mobility and strength he'd once had were forever lost to him. He had grieved at first, feeling the profound loss of the dance between light and dark that he'd not only enjoyed, but thrived on for so many years.