The Light in the Duke's Shadow: A Historical Regency Romance Book Read online

  Jules nodded. “Then do so. If that does not quench her thirst for heights, I can tell her so myself.” Jules stood up despite his aching side and gave the girl a dip of his head. “Have you seen Leander?”

  “He was talking to some of the maids,” Anne said. “He’s acting a bit odd, isn’t he? He’s all jumpy.”

  Jules shrugged. “With Leander, you never know. He has been on edge ever since the incident, and now with this attack on me, I fear the man is set to worry himself into a frenzy.”

  “Daniel told me about the attack and all. Something terrible that someone can do something like that to you, Your Grace,” Anne said with a frown. “Leander was quite beside himself before he left to get you. He’s in such a terrible state; you’d think he was the one that got hurt.”

  Jules gave the girl a smile. “Leander’s family has been with us for a very long time. I think he wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

  “Anne, girl, come get to these dishes,” called the cook as she walked into the kitchen. The woman stopped short when she saw Jules. “Your Grace, ye should not be out of bed, should ye?”

  “I fear that I am not good at following doctor’s orders,” Jules told the woman with a gentle laugh. “Oh, Hen, do not look at me so. You remind me of how Mother was always shaking her head at me.”

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Jules. “She had a right to do so. You were always trying to give us all a fright. Now ye get back up to bed, or I’ll put you there myself.”

  “Oh fine, you have won the day, Hen,” Jules said with a sigh that he followed with a wink at the infuriated cook. He turned and walked away as he heard Anne’s giggle followed swiftly by a scolding from Charlotte to the girl.

  Jules knew that the cook was right, though. He should be resting, but how could he do so when there was so much still to do? Was he to just lie in bed like some invalid while Leander risked himself to figure a way to save Jules’ life?

  With a sigh of dissatisfaction, Jules stopped at the foot of the stairs. He had no desire to climb the flight of stairs again that day and instead opted to go to his father’s study. Jules reminded himself that it was his study now.

  The faint scent of the pipe his father always smoked still clung to the study. Jules half-expected to see the man when he opened the door but was only greeted by the familiar aroma and soft couch. Jules closed the door and sank down onto the couch that was against the wall under a window. He sunk hesitantly onto the soft cushions, careful not to pull on the threads in his side any more than he had to in order to lay down.

  Once he was stretched out, Jules sighed in relief. His heavy eyelids proved impossible to keep open as Jules fought to keep the fatigue at bay. He had no desire to see what nightmares likely awaited him, but his body refused to allow him to stay awake, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  Despite his misgivings, the dreams did not bring him ill tidings. He saw only laughter in his dreams. Jules smiled in his sleep as his dream self lived a thousand lifetimes without the pain of parting from Lady Withersfield. They danced, drank, and lived. They had children, and their lives stretched out before him.

  It was altogether too lovely a thing to stand. Once he relaxed, his dream began to change, and soon Jules was scrambling to find her. Had he lost her? The forest was dark and had crept back up on him. Jules sank down alone in that forest. Why had he left his angel?

  ***

  There was a knocking somewhere nearby. Jules’ eyes felt like they had sand in them when he blinked them open. The insistent knocking came again. Jules groaned and put an arm over his eyes. “Yes?” His voice sounded dry and cracked when he spoke.

  “Your Grace,” Daniel’s voice called through the door. The young man sounded uncertain as to what he should do.

  Jules let his arm fall to his side. “Come in, Daniel,” he called back, swallowing to try and take the dryness out of his mouth.

  The door cracked open a bit then Daniel came in once he seemed assured that Jules was actually waiting on him. “Forgive me intruding, Your Grace, but when I returned, I was told I could find you upstairs. I just came to let you know that the hatter said the hat would be ready in three days’ time.”

  “That is fine,” Jules said as he sat up. He winced as he did so, and Daniel was swiftly over to him. “I assure you that I am fine. What time is it?”

  Daniel frowned. “It is nearly time for the evening meal. Shall I have them serve you in here, Your Grace?”

  “That will be fine. I have no desire to walk any further than to my desk at the moment.” Jules stood up then said, “Oh, Daniel, there are two letters up on the desk in my room. See that they are dispatched, will you?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Daniel nodded and gave Jules a quick bow before he set off to do Jules’ errands.

  Once the young man was gone, Jules went over to the desk chair and sank into the soft leather cushions of it. He rubbed his face and wondered just what a fright he must look. Jules ran a hand through his hair and found the tie gone. He looked over and saw it lying on the floor next to the couch where he had slept.

  Jules just frowned at the hair tie and decided it could stay there before he attempted to lean over and pick it up. He looked at the papers on the desk. He barely even remembered what he had been working on in here the last time he was home long enough from the investigation to actually look after the paperwork for the estates.

  He flipped through the papers, but most were merely invoices, waiting for stamping or receipts that needed to be organised. Jules breathed in slowly then breathed out a sigh of frustration. He needed to be better sooner rather than later. This injury put him at a disadvantage that he could scarcely afford with someone out for his head.

  “Why would anyone want me dead? There is no clear line of succession, and no one to rightfully profit from it,” Jules asked the painting of his father that hung over the fireplace to his left. “If they had succeeded in killing me the first time, perhaps this would be all over by now.”

  His father simply stared back at him with that imperious look the man always had. Jules looked back at the desk and sighed. “I know,” Jules said with a nod. “Do not sit and worry, go out and do.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Jules called for the person to enter. Daniel came in and said, “Charlotte sent me with your food, Your Grace.” Daniel set a tray on the desk in front of Jules.

  “Thank you; it smells lovely,” Jules said honestly. The aroma wafting up from the meat pie made Jules realise how hungry he was after sleeping for such a long time. “Did you find the letters that I wrote?”

  Daniel frowned. “I checked your desk, Your Grace, but I saw no letters. Is it possible that you moved them or one of the maids picked them up?”

  “I am certain of where I left them,” Jules said with a sigh. “Perhaps one of the maids did move the letters. I shall check.”

  Daniel dipped his head. “I would be happy to check with the maids for you if you would like?”

  Jules thought about it but shook his head. “No. I shall ask them personally.” Daniel gave a bow and was swiftly out of the room at Jules’ words.

  He pierced the pie’s flaky crust to allow it to cool somewhat as he thought of who could have moved the letters. As he poured himself a measure of brandy into a glass, there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” Jules called.

  Leander came in and held up the letters in his hand. “Daniel said you were looking for these?”

  “How did you come by them?” Jules asked with relief.

  Leander shrugged. “Went by your room to check in with you but saw it empty. The letters looked ready to be sent on their way, but I could not find you anywhere to get permission to do so. I thought it better to carry them with me than leave them for prying eyes.”

  “That was good thinking,” Jules said as he picked at the pie and watched the steam rise up from it. “You shall dispatch them for me then?”

  Leander nodded then asked hesitantly, “You are not st
ill thinking of going to the party tomorrow night, are you? With all that has happened, I do not know if it would be wise to be on your own.”

  “No, the letters are just to let Lady Withersfield and her father know that I will be otherwise detained.” Jules had no intention of getting anywhere near Lady Withersfield until he was sure that his presence would not put the woman in further danger. She had come quite close enough to the murderers when she had run into that alley. She had not even known how close she had truly come, and Jules frowned at the thought. “Besides, I assumed that we might be well on the tracks of our unknown conspirators by then.”

  Leander agreed with a nod as he put the envelopes in one of his inner coat pockets. “I will finish my enquiries then I shall be back with you in the morrow. Are you sleeping down here?” Leander glanced over at the couch with a faint look of disdain. “I do not know how the doctor would feel about that.”

  “No, I shall be in my room,” Jules assured the man. “I merely was fatigued and decided to nap here instead of making the climb up to my room.”

  With a nod of understanding, Leander gave Jules a smile. “Are you certain that you do not need some assistance to get back up to your room? It is of no bearing on your strength, Your Grace. We just do not want you to overtire yourself.”

  “I am fine,” Jules said with a laugh. “I just should have taken a rest earlier in the day. I promise that if I feel faint, I shall ask for assistance.”

  Leander watched Jules as if trying to determine if Jules was indeed being truthful. Finally, Leander nodded. “As you say, Your Grace. I shall just get these letters on their way then.”

  “Thank you, Leander, for everything.” Jules said the words with feeling.

  Leander did not seem eager to take on the gratitude as he shook his head. “It is nothing more than any of us would do for you, Your Grace.”

  “Not any, apparently,” Jules said as he thought of the fact that someone under this very roof had a hand in trying to kill him. “There are not many who would do as much for someone else as you have done with so little to gain, Leander. You are a good friend.”

  Leander looked down at the floor. “Thank you, Your Grace. You honour me.”

  “Well, enough of that,” Jules said with a laugh. “I think this pie might be cool enough not to burn the skin off of my mouth.

  Leander chuckled. “She does seem to heat them in the very furnaces of the underworld. Mind you, they taste like Heaven, though.”

  “Indeed,” Jules agreed with a grin.

  Chapter 10

  When Penelope walked through her painting studio, she eyed the easel where she had been working before. Beside it on a table were various cups that Penelope had gathered, some she had even made during one of her classes in pottery. She ran her finger along the rim of a creamy coloured cup that she used to hold water. The light touch left a smidgen of dust on her fingertips that she rubbed onto the old dress she had donned.

  “I suppose I have been a bit lacklustre in visiting,” Penelope said with a smile. The painting she had worked upon last was still up on the easel. Penelope picked it up and shook her head at the painting. She put the painting of herself dancing with the Duke in the grassy field of flowers against a wall and covered it with a cloth. “Time to start a new one.”

  She went to find a new canvas. Selecting one from the canvases leaned against the wall of her studio, Penelope eyed the blank piece of canvas critically. She nodded to herself at some agreement she had come to and placed it upon her easel.

  Penelope set about tidying up her workspace, cleaning up old dried paints and getting everything organised for herself. It was nice to have her mind orderly again after the chaos of the last few months. It was due time that her studio reflected her newly enlightened thoughts.

  She then prepared her painter’s palette. For this particular portrait, she chose shadowy blues, sunlit yellows, and crisp white. Penelope picked up a knife and cut the pigment with a bit of thinner. When it was the consistency she wanted, Penelope picked up a brush and dipped it delicately into the darkest of the blues.

  In her mind’s eye, she saw the ice and snow, the landscape that she was looking for. It slowly appeared on the canvas as she worked, her smile coming to her face as the paint found its way onto the canvas.

  Her heart was at ease, and her mind danced along with it as her hands nimbly painted the winter scene that Penelope held in her mind. The night with Jules had left Penelope with a light heart, and she painted the ice flows along a frozen creek bank, melting ever so slightly in the sunshine of a late winter’s morning.

  Thinking of the Duke made Penelope smile. She wondered if the man would call upon her father personally before the party or if perhaps he would write to her father as a forewarning of his intentions. Penelope did not care so much for the details, but she had been quite disappointed to see the Duke leave before breakfast.

  It was a bit unreasonable to think that the Duke would make an announcement over breakfast, but Penelope longed to hear the words spoken aloud in the daylight. Surely, the Duke’s words before his departure had meant that he was still committed to courting her. Penelope drew in a breath and painted the reflection of light on the ice ever so delicately.

  A knock on the door brought Penelope out of her vision of a crisp winter morning. “Yes?” she called with a puzzled frown. It was rare for anyone to interrupt her in her studio.

  Her mother’s voice called through the door, “May I come in?”

  “Yes, please,” Penelope said as she sat her brush and palette down on the table near her easel as the door came open. Lady Winchester swept into the room, closing the door behind her. “Mother, what is the matter?”

  Lady Winchester’s expression held a sour note that Penelope was not used to seeing on her mother’s practiced and well-constrained face. “I had a horrible dream last night,” Lady Winchester said as she walked over to Penelope. The woman’s hands folded in front of her, clinging to one another as if they might keep the dream at bay while she spoke.

  “That is unlike you,” Penelope observed as she studied the woman’s face. “Perhaps if you told me what it was about, it would not seem so bad.”

  Lady Winchester shook her head slowly. “It was about you. I could not find you. It woke me and left this fear in me that you were gone somehow.”

  “Oh, Mother, that sounds terrible, but you can see that I am here to be found.” Penelope came over and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. It had been quite some time since Penelope had seen her mother in such a sensitive light, and it warmed her heart to know the woman cared so much for her.

  The neat and tidy bun that Lady Winchester’s hair was styled into did not match with the distraught look on her face. “Daughter of mine, tell me the truth when I ask you this next question, I beg you.”

  “Of course, Mother,” Penelope said. “Why would I not answer truthfully?”

  Lady Winchester sighed. “Only my fear knows,” she whispered. Lady Winchester straightened her shoulders and took a breath. “I went to your room last night in search of you, but I found you gone. Where were you, Penelope?”

  “I—I probably had gone to the kitchen. I had a dream myself that awoke me, and I found I could not go back to sleep.” Penelope stepped away from her mother as she smoothed her hands along her muslin dress. “You know that I often go to the kitchen for milk when I cannot sleep.”

  Lady Winchester inclined her head towards Penelope. “Yes, I know this. Which is why I went downstairs when I could not find you.”

  “I feel there is more that you wish to say,” Penelope said as she straightened herself. Her mother was being unusually evasive in her words, and Penelope felt a sense of foreboding about that.

  For a long moment, her mother said nothing as if waiting for Penelope to relinquish all her secrets. When Lady Winchester finally spoke, her gaze settled on Penelope’s face with a look of dissatisfaction. “I had hoped you would be forthcoming, but since you have chosen
to lie, I see no reason to sugarcoat what I am about to say.” Penelope opened her mouth to protest, but her mother raised her hand to silence her. “Allow me to speak before you dishonour me with more foolish lies, daughter.”