Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) (7 page)

He blinked, the motion languorous, and she felt devoured by his eyes. "You are quite a jewel, my dear. Nothing you say will change that."

At a loss for words, Juliana followed Rupert's lead down the stairs, watching her step in the dim lighting.

When she again looked up, she saw Owen speaking heatedly with the three men, all of whom had regained consciousness. The magistrate came through the front door, and the innkeeper's glare said he'd much rather be abed than paying homage to local watchmen.

Owen stepped away from the men and approached her and Rupert, pulling Rupert aside to conduct a conversation in hushed and hurried tones. Her cousin nodded to Owen, who then took his leave and went up the stairs. Rupert spoke to the magistrate who, with the help of a couple strapping young men he'd brought with him, pulled the three intruders to their feet and began hauling them out the door.

Rupert gave the innkeeper a coin and told him he could return to bed.

Nervous, Juliana stood where he'd left her, her fingers tangled together in front of her.

"Have a seat." She peeked up. The solemn face was back in place, but she was heartened that he didn't seem angry with her.

She sat down and took her time arranging her skirts around her, another nervous habit.

"The men claim to be in the employ of two brothers, Wilbur and Miles Stanwich. The men who came into your room were sent to take Eleanor and Eudora. Can you tell me why?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know why?"

Juliana stared at the floor as she nodded.

"Is there a reason you won't you tell me, then?"

The moment her eyes connected with his, she knew she was in trouble. "Cousin…"

"I wish you'd stop calling me that." His voice was harsh, but she sensed no anger in it. And his eyes, oh his eyes. They were dark with complexities she wanted to understand. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't look away.

"You follow the law. If I tell you what's going on, you will be compelled to take action, and if you do, I'll never be able to forgive you."

Chapter Twelve

Rupert watched as Juliana's shoulders drooped. "Law exists to encourage people to do that which they already know to be right and noble."

"That may be so." Her voice caught, demonstrating her internal conflict. "People sometimes say they're taking a certain action because it's what the law says, but it's actually the worst possible thing that could be done."

He needed her to trust him. Otherwise she'd never tell him the truth of what the Stanwich brothers wanted with them. "If someone is using the law to do wrong, I won't blindly follow. You're going to have to trust me at some point. Now seems like a good enough time, does it not?"

Emotion in various shades and hues flitted through her eyes. Suspicion, guilt, determination. Then he saw that one special look, the light he'd been hoping to see since she and the others had first arrived at Castle Felton. Hope flickered to life.

"What happens if I tell you the truth, and you decide the best course of action is in every respect the opposite of what I believe should be done?"

Rupert wanted to pace. As he eyed the edge of the table where he would have normally set it, he realized he'd left his cane upstairs during the earlier hubbub. "I can't promise I'll do as you wish, but I give you my word I will hear you out and take everything you have to say into consideration."

"I want to trust you, Cousin, but there's much at stake. I can't risk making the wrong choice."

"What happens if you do?" Hadn't he already asked her to stop calling him Cousin? They weren't cousins, not really, and the feelings she evoked in him were far removed from familial.

"Eleanor and Eudora will spend the rest of their lives paying for my mistake if I get this wrong."

"They might have paid for it tonight if
I
hadn't been there."

Juliana's eyes sharpened with defiance. "Someone would have heard and come to our rescue."

"Perhaps, but is that something you want to count on happening the next time?"

"Those thugs have been arrested. There won't be a next time…" Her voice lost confidence with each syllable until it trailed off at the end.

"If the Stanwich brothers are determined, they'll hire other men to do their bidding, or perhaps eventually come after the girls themselves." Rupert had always prided himself on being more patient than most. That trait had served him well in his previous life and in his service to the duke since. His patience nonetheless wore thin with Juliana. Her fears needed to be put to rest, but her tenacious desire to keep him in the dark was enough to try a saint.

"Uncle-Fitz-lost-his-mind-and-signed-betrothal-contracts-for-my-sisters." Juliana's mumbled words were barely audible. Rupert stared at her for a full minute before his brain organized what she'd said into some semblance of understandable speech.

"The girls are betrothed to the brothers?"

Juliana, misery etched into every defeated line of her face, nodded. "They're horrid, foul, terrible men! Uncle Fitz never even told us! It wasn't until after he died the solicitor informed us of the betrothals. Our uncle betrayed us, and the best explanation is his insanity, because… because if he had his wits about him when he signed those contracts, then we never knew him at all!"

Rupert was a man of few words by choice. Being at a complete loss for what to say was new to him. This conversation, though, had effectively robbed him of his tongue. "Insanity?"

Juliana's eyes brimmed with tears. "The last year was awful. Uncle Fitz had always been such a calm and loving person, and we adored him, but something went wrong in his mind. He would cry for no reason, or start ranting at us about things that didn't make any sense."

She looked at him with helpless vulnerability in her eyes. "He yelled at Eleanor one day because she wore a blue morning dress. Blue was the color of demons and she was never to wear blue again, he ranted. The next day she wore green, and he started crying about how she'd turned against him, cursing him by refusing to wear blue, his favorite color. None of it made sense. Uncle Fitz had loved and protected us for years, giving us a safe place to call home. Over the last year, he simply lost his mind. We watched him fall further and further into insanity, and there wasn't anything we could do about it."

"Did you consult a doctor?"

"The local physician bled him. It offered him no relief from his illness. We tried different teas one of the village women recommended, but it kept getting worse."

"Were there any other symptoms?"

Juliana's brow crinkled as she examined him. "He didn't sleep anymore, and we blamed his emotional unrest, so we tried laudanum to help him sleep, but even then, he remained agitated." A knot formed in Rupert's stomach as Juliana continued to recite Uncle Fitz's symptoms. "He was often hot with fever. Even when he wasn't feverish, though, his skin got red, and his brow would sweat profusely. The doctor said those were all the result of his heightened emotional state."

"Why didn't anybody contact me?"

"I tried, blast it!" Juliana's eyes suddenly grew wide, and her face paled. She apparently wasn't accustomed to using such indelicate language. Her voice softer, she said, "I found your direction in Uncle's books, but the letters I sent to Rupert Birmingham never garnered a response. I even placed advertisements in an attempt to locate you."

Her eyes were hard as steel as she continued. "Sometime later, the solicitor told us he'd found you using the name Douglas Rupert. By then it was too late. Uncle Fitz was already dead, and so was Cousin William. It's not fair, I tell you. It's not fair! They were all the family we had left, and now they're gone, and we didn't get to say a proper farewell to either of them."

The tears fell freely down Juliana's cheeks. Rupert reached out and used a gentle touch to wipe her tears away with the pad of his thumb. Her skin, soft and warm, was alluring against the rough texture of his own.

"Tell me about the brothers."

"They're old and lecherous."

Rupert smiled at her churlishness. "I need more to go on."

Juliana crossed her arms. "They're twins, and they're eighty if they're a day. They've been leering at the girls since Eudora began… well, for a while now."

Since Eudora began developing…
Rupert filled in the missing words, and he didn't relish where they led him. "And you knew nothing of these betrothals until after Fitz died?"

She nodded.

"After the solicitor told you about it, did you search Fitz's study? Did you find any evidence of betrothal contracts in there?"

"I searched everywhere I could think of. I tore the place apart. I even went through his bedchamber and searched his bureau and wardrobe. I found nothing about the betrothals."

Rupert stood and began pacing. It was difficult without his cane, but he placed his hand on each chair back he passed. "You are going to go upstairs and get as much sleep as you can. Tomorrow we'll arrive in London. The day after, I will meet with somebody I asked to check into Fitz's death."

"Wh-why would you want to check into his death?"

He weighed the pros and cons of explaining his suspicions to her and decided, for now, to keep it vague. "I need to make sure the succession for the earldom is properly handled. Am I indeed the next in line? That sort of thing." He had no doubt about it, but he needed time to evaluate the situation. "Part of checking on the succession is confirming Fitz's manner of death. Legal documents have to be filed, and I want to address all the questions that may arise."

Juliana pursed her lips. "And the betrothals. What will you do about those?"

"Ask questions. Gather information. Demand proof that Fitz signed the contracts and had all his faculties about him at the time."

Her eyes lighting up, Juliana asked, "Will that matter?"

Rupert, who had reached the end of the short row of tables, spun around and paced back toward where she sat. He stopped next to her chair and said, "It might. There is some precedence for contracts signed in questionable conditions being negated because of the suspicious nature of the circumstances. I can't say for certain until I know more, but I'll do everything I can to keep the girls safe. You have my word."

Juliana stood and, kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Cousin."

"I do wish you'd stop calling me that."

"It's not meant as an insult. Why don't you care for it?"

Rupert cupped her face and ran his thumb along her jawline. "Because I don't think of you at all like a cousin." He moved closer, his touch delicate, and brushed his lips against her skin, giving her the barest hint of a kiss at the corner of her mouth where his thumb had a second before caressed her.

Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth formed an
O
. Nevertheless, she didn't blush. In fact, she had ever so slightly leaned into his touch, which Rupert took as a splendid sign. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and escorted her toward the stairs.

Chapter Thirteen

Their party arrived in London late the next day. As agreed, Owen saw them safely to Thomas and Grace's townhome before seeking out Tobias. Rupert wanted the young man dispatched to Chakal Manor with all immediacy. Somebody needed to ferret out information about the Stanwich brothers, these alleged betrothal contracts, Uncle Fitz's deterioration, and most especially about Mr. Knowles, the solicitor who seemed to come up in near to every conversation he had with Juliana. If Tobias didn't see the matter his way, Rupert would hire someone himself to investigate.

Thomas and Grace must have seen them approaching, for they came down the stairs to greet them, not waiting for their visitors to disembark as was fashionable.

"Your graces." Rupert gave both a deferential nod.

"Rupert, old friend, it's good to see you. You'll have to stop with all the 'Your Grace' nonsense now that you're a peer of the realm." Thomas reached up and offered him a firm handshake before Rupert dismounted. As an earl, or even if he were higher ranked, Rupert would still be obliged to refer to Thomas and Grace by their titles, and everybody knew it. The arm of friendship, however, was much appreciated.

When he'd read the duke's missive, Rupert had found his employer's attitude curious. Here, again, he wondered at Thomas' motives. The duke's actions were above reproach, but there seemed to be something more in his greeting, a look in his eyes not quite masked, leading Rupert to the inevitable conclusion that things were being left unsaid. Generosity was all well and good, but… he would puzzle it out when he had a chance.

"Rupert, do say you won't hate us too terribly much." Grace's dulcet tone told the steward he wouldn't care for what came next. "We've had an unexpected visitor, an old friend of Thomas' father, and we decided it best not to bring all your young ladies into the home with a single man in residence. It would be different if he were family or someone we knew well, but…" Her voice trailed off, and Rupert sighed.

Thomas put his arm around Grace's waist and pulled her close. "Don't worry about a thing. Grace found a place for you to stay." Nodding toward the other side of the street, Thomas said, "She scoured the scandal sheets in search of a disgraced family who would have to leave London unexpectedly so she could snatch their townhome out from under them. She got you a prime place across the way and down a few."

The muscles in Rupert's neck tightened. "I don't have funds for a home in Grosvenor Square."

Grace gave Thomas a playful shove. "Shush. You make me sound like an opportunistic harpy." Then she turned to Rupert. "I told him to start with the money, but he wouldn't listen to me. Some nonsense about it not being gentlemanly."

"Or gentlewomanly, dear."

Grace dismissed her husband's remark with the shake of her head and gave her full attention to Rupert. "We told you it would be fine for you and your ladies to stay with us, but the situation changed, and now we're saying no. It's our responsibility, so we've paid for a month's rent. If you need more time to get everything situated, please tell us, and we'll take care of everything."