Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Berkley Estate, Gloucester
J ulius Fenton, Duke of Berkley, was in a foul mood. He sat in the library surrounded by family portraits, books, and journals. His younger brother, Baxter, was meddling again, and no one meddled like him. Julius’s brows knitted as he stared at Baxter’s portrait, gazing back at him. His brother was off managing one of the Scottish estates, which should have kept him quite busy, but he still found time to write to Julius to annoy the hell out of him.
Julius slammed his hand on the large oak desk, which echoed in the library. The echo screamed loneliness as the candles cast a faint shadow on the wall. He remembered when he and Baxter used to stand in the light and make animals in the shadows on the walls. A fond memory from another lifetime. A time when he was happy.
No matter how much Julius told Baxter he was fine on his own, his brother insisted on telling him he was not. According to Baxter, Julius was surviving, but he was not really living. He pretended not to notice the difference. Companionship and comfort were what Baxter thought he needed. Julius had stopped caring about either a long time ago.
He was plagued by a reckless decision he made years ago, and he was reaping the rewards, rightly so. Julius raised his hand and gently ran it along the taunt, scarred skin that covered the length of his face, from his eyes to the corner of his mouth. The skin felt hard, as hard as his soul. The scar restricted movement when he smiled because he was only able to raise the corner of his lips on one side. The ladies found it grotesque. There were times when the scar itched, and it was bloody painful. The memory of the physical pain had long faded, but for years, he took an emotional beating. Julius wasn’t sure which one was worse. He no longer complained about his misfortune, for he had long since accepted his fate.
Every day that Julius glimpsed his reflection was a stark reminder of the mistreatment he had endured upon returning to England. It was expected that he would be shunned in France, but England surprised him. It was his home. The hypocrisy of the haut ton was something to behold. He was an aristocrat with connections, lands, and wealth. They did not ignore him and were only too happy to conduct business with him. They were only too happy to engage with him if it was to make the haut ton wealthier or more distinguished. What they said behind his back was another matter entirely. He knew they called him the beastly duke, and he wished he could say it did not hurt, but even after so many years, it did.
Damn them .
His wealth opened the door to the most prestigious drawing rooms, but he did not socialize with the pretenders. The gentlemen of high society were righteous except when they were whoring and getting drunk all over town, and many had a mistress or two stacked away. These pursuits did not interest him. Julius was quite satisfied to remain on his estate and do his duty, preserving the wealth of the Berkley Estate. It was time his brother accepted this. He reached for Baxter’s letter and read it once more.
Dearest brother,
I hope my letter finds you well. I did not receive a reply to the previous one, yet here I am writing another. Emmeline and I are concerned about you. While you have isolated yourself from the world, there is no need to hide from me. You must long for companionship and comfort. We humans have the power of choice, which makes us superior to other animals, and we need each other. You could choose to end your solitary life whenever you wish, and I suppose what I really want to ask is, do you not think it is time?
We have extended the invitation for you to visit us in Scotland countless times, and we wanted you to know the invitation remains open. Emmeline and I are pleased to announce that we are expecting another bairn, and he is due in the autumn. I have taken to saying ‘he’ to Emmeline’s irritation because she hopes for a girl after Warren, Sidney, and Patrick, but I believe it will be another boy. I feel it in my bones. It has been a long time since you have seen your nephews, and if you do not come to visit us, we will make a trip to see you. Take heart, for it would be a long and tedious journey with the children. Perhaps you could visit and save us from this trial. We miss you.
Sincerely,
Baxter
Julius smiled. Baxter had been keeping himself busy. He could hardly believe that another babe was on the way. Emmeline and Baxter were literally adding sons to their family every year. He did not need to worry about succession. If he did not wed, there would be no heir from him, but Baxter and his sons would inherit. Julius did not need to feel guilty about securing the family’s line. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Julius placed the letter on his desk. “Come in.”
Otis, his butler, opened the door and entered the room. “Will you have dinner this evening, Your Grace?”
Otis had taken to asking because there were days when the staff prepared an elaborate meal only for Julius to ignore it and partake in some simple fare.
“I will only have soup, rolls, and a bit of pastry served here in the library, Otis. Thank you.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Otis replied before he spun around and left the room.
Julius opened his desk drawer and placed Baxter’s letter inside it, where it joined the rest. He slowly closed the drawer. He would eventually respond to Baxter, but not right now. Julius stood up from his desk and walked over to an easel that held a painting that his steward, Mr. Ainsley, had procured for him. As was their customary arrangement, Mr. Ainsley had left it wrapped in the packaging that it arrived in. Julius usually kept the painting in his library until he decided where it should be hung. He slowly removed the painting’s wrapping and gazed at it. Though he was not an art connoisseur, he appreciated the detail and depiction.
The knock on the door signaled the arrival of his dinner. Otis laid out his meal on the table and departed the room. Julius sat to eat, fleetingly thinking a good conversation with a dining partner would be welcome. He ruthlessly shut away the thought, loathing to admit he was lonely. Nor was it in his character to uselessly long for things that would never materialize.
After returning from France, he tried to court a lady, and it was an abject failure. A few years ago, Lady Hazel Chester had seemed interested in him. He met her on one of his visits to her father’s estate, where they were introduced. Julius never left the estate without a half mask that he wore to hide the scar. The haut ton could only speculate as to what his scar looked like, but they had never seen it. He did not want to be gawked at or to be treated like a specimen.
In hindsight, he should have known that Lady Hazel’s interest in him was not genuine because it went against everything he had experience of society’s fickle females. Perhaps at the time, he was optimistic, and Julius allowed himself to be drawn in by her charm. Eventually, she got around to what she really wanted. He was to remove his mask, and in the end, he had given in because he wanted to assure himself that she had a genuine liking for him and would not be repelled.
Julius had slowly removed the mask, never taking his eyes off Lady Hazel, who recoiled as if she had been struck when she finally saw what lay beneath. Her eyes could not hide her disgust and pity, and Julius wanted neither. Her stare had made him feel hollow, dark, and ugly. He could never flee the memory, as much as he wanted to, and it pained him to realize she had no genuine interest in him. He had hastily replaced the mask and never revealed himself again.
It was a high price to pay for a stupid mistake in his youth, but he had to take responsibility for the consequences. He had no choice but to live a solitary life; otherwise, disgust and pity would destroy him.
He embraced the solitude and did not form close relationships or confide in others. He was disconnected from the haut ton’s unless it was absolutely necessary and had his own little world on his estate. Did he sometimes wish that he had a loving wife and rambunctious children like Baxter; of course. Since this was not meant to be, he could always consider the alternative. He could always have a paid companion like his Aunt Blanche.
Julius did not need a guardian for his reputation, like Aunt Blanche, but perhaps someone to ease his regret when he thought about what could have been. A woman who was well-educated, reputable, had good manners and would spend time with him and entertain him. The thought was unheard of, for no respectable lady would do such a thing due to the speculations it would bring. Though a male companion would be better, it was still unusual, and that was not what he wanted.
The thought of finding such a woman was daunting so Julius pushed it from his mind. Especially given he had no intention of pursuing that until possibly later in life.
Briar and Duncan had left their home under the cover of fog-shrouded darkness. Duncan managed to procure a carriage because they could no longer maintain one. The horses had been sold after the selected pieces of furniture. A carriage now seemed like a rare luxury.
It was spring, but even though all the snow had melted, the nights were still quite cold. Although she wore warm clothing, the wind seemed to chill her to the bone. Briar shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Perhaps she trembled not only from the cold but from the rising fear thumping in her chest as the carriage pulled closer to Berkley Estate. She looked at Duncan, whose eyes were closed as his head rested against the squab as the carriage rolled along. He appeared so peaceful in his sleep. Earlier this evening, Duncan was the one who was a bit anxious, and Briar felt adventurous, but now their roles were reversed.
Briar felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach at the very thought of meeting the beastly duke. She willed herself to remain calm. Briar silently prayed that their ruse would go off as planned and they would not be discovered. Finally, the carriage came to a halt, and Duncan jerked awake. She pulled the curtain back and gazed out into the pitch-black night. Her brother lit a lantern, and they exited the carriage. Duncan turned to the driver and gave him instructions.
When he was finished, he turned around to face her. “Are you ready, Miss Blanche?”
“Certainly, Douglas.” They had decided to use at least names that started with the same letter just in case they slipped up. They set off down the long driveway in silence, bracing against a strong wind until they reached the large gilded front doors to the majestic mansion. Briar was so cold that her fingers felt stiff despite wearing gloves. Duncan knocked, and they stood on the steps waiting, but there was no answer. She wondered if the servants would not come to the door. Duncan knocked louder, and the butler finally appeared.
Her brother spoke up. “Good evening. My name is Lord Morecliff, and this is my sister, Miss Blanche.”
The butler eyed them wearily and bowed. “Good evening, my lord, Miss Blanche. How may I assist you?”
“We are on our way to Morecliff Estate in Worcester, but sadly, our carriage has broken down. It was rather foolish of me to persist in driving through the night. There are no inns nearby, and this was the only house we saw, so we are asking your lord to extend his hospitality for the evening, and we will be on our way at first light tomorrow,” Duncan explained.
The butler stiffened his spine, his expression growing remote. “I am afraid that is not possible, Lord Morecliff. The duke does not entertain guests on the estate.”
“I beg your pardon. Are you saying the duke would not consider our plight and offer us lodging for one night?” Briar ensured she sounded like a shocked, spoiled aristocrat who did not appreciate being told no .
Duncan was quick to offer her support. “How extraordinary.”
They both stared at the butler, their gazes boring into him, as they remained standing on the step. The butler’s forehead wrinkled, and he pulled back slightly.
Briar saw the hesitancy, and she smiled inwardly.
“I hardly think your lord would be pleased to find that we slept in a broken-down carriage on such a cold night. Highwaymen might even happen upon us. A worrisome notion. Should you not ask him?”
The butler’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace, and he blinked. “The hour is late, Miss Blanche. I am afraid that Your Grace left specific instructions that he was not to be disturbed for the evening.”
He gave a shaky smile that wavered before he stepped aside and permitted Duncan and Briar to enter the hallway.
“Please come in,” he said.
He proceeded down the hallway and led them to a drawing room where a fire burned. Briar sighed her relief.
“Make yourselves comfortable. I will bring you a meal while Agnes prepares your rooms.” The butler turned and left the room.
Briar moved toward the fireplace, quickly removed her gloves, and warmed her hands. Duncan immediately started looking around the drawing room, and Briar followed suit. There were paintings on the wall, but none were the forgery. Now that they were inside the estate, she was overwhelmed by how large it was and the numerous rooms they needed to search. This was going to be a serious challenge.
Once Duncan had completed his cursory search, he moved closer to the fireplace. Briar whispered because she could never tell who was lurking around. Her mother always said the walls had ears, and she could not risk being overheard.
“The house is much larger than I anticipated, so it is not feasible for us to search together. We could search all night and not be able to find it,” Briar said. The house was four stories, and it would be an unfamiliar maze. “Thankfully, it seems as if the duke has retired for the evening.”
Duncan tugged at his neckcloth and sighed. “I had noticed in the forecourt, and I suppose you are right. We must split up. I will take the left wing, and you could take the right. We will return to our room before the servants are up at dawn.”
“Agreed,” Briar replied.
There was a knock on a door, and a servant appeared with a platter. Briar and Duncan ate by the fire. Shortly after that, a matronly servant entered the room and curtsied.
“I am Agnes, my lord, Miss Blanche, and I am here to show you to your rooms.”
Agnes was quite a welcoming contrast to the butler. Briar and Duncan followed her up the wide stairs to the first landing, down the hall where the doors to two rooms were ajar.
Agnes pointed to each room across the hall from each other. “My lord, Miss Blanche. I bid you goodnight.”
“Thank you, Agnes. Goodnight.”
They both replied before entering their respective rooms and closing the door. Briar curiously looked around the well-appointed room. The bed was neatly made, and the pillows and cushions made it appear so inviting. She wondered if she could take a short nap before snooping around but decided against it. Instead, she moved over to an armchair and took a seat. It was quite late, so the servants would soon be off to bed. It was a matter of mere hours before they would need to rise again, and she felt a bit guilty about robbing them of sleep.
Briar was determined that they should find the forgery by daylight. This was their one chance because now that the servants had seen their faces, it would be difficult to find a plausible reason to return where they were not wanted. Briar leaned her head against the cushion of the armchair and closed her eyes. She came awake with a start and listened to the house's silence.
Goodness! I fell asleep .
She did not think that she had been asleep for too long. Briar removed her shoes so that she would quietly walk around in her stocking. She had kept the lantern from their walk to the estate and used one of the candles to light it.
Briar cracked the door and listened before she entered the hallway. It was silent. She slowly padded across the hall and opened the door to Duncan’s room, but he had already left. Duncan had a head start and Briar was irritated that he did not wake her. She exited the room and softly closed the door behind her. She turned right down the passageway and walked with more confidence than she felt.
When she arrived at the first closed door, her knees began trembling, but she had to go ahead and open it. Slowly, she twisted the nob and entered the room, holding the lantern to illuminate the surroundings. She scanned the bedchamber and found the painting was not there. She blew out a slow breath without realizing she was holding it. This seemed less like an adventure and more of a recipe for how to become ruined beyond redemption.
She exited the room and continued down the hall, slowly opening the door of each room, only to be disappointed. She had gone through a few rooms and was about to enter another wing of the house when the hairs lifted on the nape of her neck. A voice from behind startled her.
“Are you lost, my lady?”
It was Agnes. Did these servants never sleep?
Briar’s hands trembled, and her fingers tightened reflexively on the lantern. Hoping she appeared composed, she spun around. Agnes was only trying to follow the duke’s orders. She flashed Agnes a warm smile. “I could not sleep, so I stepped outside my bedchamber to wander for a spell. When I am at home, walking around somehow aids me to sleep like a baby.”
“My lady, the wing you are about to enter is forbidden, and the master would be angry if you were caught there.” Agnes sounded anxious.
Why was it forbidden? Perhaps this is where the duke stored the painting. Her curiosity was magnified.
“Would you like me to show you back to your bedchamber?”
“Thank you.”
Briar dutifully followed Agnes back to her room, but she had no intention of staying there. This was not the time for faint-heartedness. She would bide her time and go directly to the forbidden wing. Briar entered the room and closed the door softly behind her. Was Duncan having better luck? She had no way of knowing and wished they had discussed this further.
Briar sat on the armchair, afraid that if she lay on the bed, she would fall asleep and miss the opportunity. Thirty minutes passed in worried contemplation before she scowled. There could be no further delay, so she stood up and took a deep, steadying breath. Briar slowly opened the door and checked the hallway then furtively walked to where Agnes found her. She resumed her search, and the first few rooms yielded nothing interesting. There were a few paintings here and there, but none were the forgery Duncan described.
Was this a terrible mistake? Would they leave empty-handed? She cautiously approached the next room, opened the door, and peeked inside. The room was a blend of shadows and light. As soon as she entered, she sensed there was something different about it. Almost instantly, she realized it was warmer than the others, and the lantern's glow fell on many paintings.
Her heart squeezed. Perhaps she had finally come to the right place. She closed the door behind her and crept further into the room. The large oak desk at the center of the room caught her attention, for it was quite imposing. Her eyes shifted to the easel in the far corner of the room, and she gave a soft gasp. Relief washed over her. Finally, she found it.
She placed the lantern on the table and stealthily crept forward until she stood before the easel and soundlessly removed the painting from its perch. It was hard to believe this one thing held such significance. She turned toward the door but only took a few steps when a man’s voice boomed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Muffling a shriek, she whirled to the sound of the voice. Someone was in the shadowed corner. Briar was certain the tendons were standing out in her neck, and immediately, her shoulders were rigid with tension.
He moved so quickly thatshe did not have time to register his movements before he spoke. A gentleman emerged from the corner, his figure half-bathed in the room's soft light while the rest remained cloaked in shadow. Her heart pounded so fiercely and fastthatshe felt a wave of faintness wash over her.
Answer me,” the gentleman growled, staring at her like a lion eyeing his prey, waiting to move in for the final kill.
Their gazes locked, and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’.
His stare was piercing yet inscrutable. His swift and fluid movement as he prowled closer radiated power and arrogance. There was no mistaking him. She had come face to face with the beastly duke.