Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T he man was young, of an age with Julian perhaps. He had light brown hair that hung across one side of his face. He wore tweeds and had a leather satchel on his hip—secured by a strap across his chest. Ester stared at him in alarm, unable to speak for a moment. Julian saw her reaction and followed her gaze.

"Who the devil are you?" Julian demanded when his eyes landed on the figure.

The man smiled and performed a courtly bow.

"Your pardon for intruding. Am I addressing His Grace the Duke of Windermere?"

Julian's gaze narrowed. "You are," he said, his tone low and clipped. "And who are you, sir? And what are you doing there?"

The man straightened, his smile deepening. "Reginald Napier," he said, drawing out his name with a theatrical flair, as though it were a well-rehearsed introduction. "Writer by trade, wanderer by inclination. Most recently employed by The London Times. As to what I am doing here... well, this is a public space, I believe. Common ground. I am here enjoying a walk in a lovely English wood."

"And you are most welcome to," Ester said, disarmingly.

Julian's tone had been abrupt and accusing and she sensed a defensiveness from Napier. She did not know how long he had been standing there, how much he had seen. Still, her instincts told her to be cautious. There was something about him—his ease, his self-assurance—that set her on edge. He had the air of a man too accustomed to playing games .

"You were looking for me?" Julian snapped.

Ester took his arm and calmly threaded her own through the crook of his elbow. It was a perfectly respectable stance and, importantly, an acceptable degree of physical contact. She tightened her fingers on his arm, trying to communicate without words.

"I was indeed, Your Grace," Napier said, eyes flicking to where Ester's hand rested on Julian's arm. "Might I come down to speak more civilly? It seems rather undignified to shout our introductions across this lovely expanse."

"By all means," Julian said with a tight smile and a gentler tone.

Ester patted his arm, smiling to hide her trepidation. She thought of everything that she and Julian had done over the last hours, and how it might look to an outsider. Not just any outsider but a man who made a profession out of spreading news and gossip. Napier descended carefully and then approached them with a charming smile.

"An interesting account came to my attention which I was looking to explore," Napier began smoothly as he approached. "An account which might be of great interest to my readers. A Duke, exiled from his homeland and the victim of a curse. Son of a noted expert in matters esoteric and occult. Quite a remarkable story, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sounds rather fanciful to me," Julian remarked, "I am not a great reader of fiction, I must say."

"But if it were fact?" Napier countered innocently. "Highly unusual tale. I did some preliminary investigation and it seems this Duke lost not only his parents, but an older brother—under mysterious circumstances, no less. The precise nature of this curse, unfortunately, remains elusive to me."

Ester could feel Julian bridling. She did not know how much influence and reach a writer for a London newspaper could have but assumed his stories would reach a readership in the tens of thousands. How much worse would it be if Julian grew angry with this man? Or even sought to silence him by force.

"It does sound a remarkable tale," she said with a measured smile. "And, correct me if I am mistaken, but you believe this cursed Duke is my betrothed, the Duke of Windermere?"

Julian looked at her quickly, unable to hide his startlement. It was the first time either of them had used such a title. The ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he looked back to Napier. It had given him no little pleasure to hear it. It had given Ester no little pleasure to speak it.

"Betrothed? My congratulations, Lady...?" Napier probed.

"No title for me, I am afraid. Miss Ester Fairchild."

Napier gave a thoughtful nod. "Fairchild? I thought I knew all the notable families in this part of the country. The principal ones, at least. Yet, I am not familiar with the Fairchilds—certainly not in the south of England."

"My family hails from Cheshire," Ester offered.

"Ah, yes. That quite explains it. And what brings you to London, Miss Fairchild?"

"This is starting to feel like an interrogation," Ester said, her smile unwavering but her tone firm. "Are we being formally interviewed for a publication, Mr. Napier? We have given no such consent, nor have been asked for it."

"Goodness, no!" Napier raised his hands in placation. "Unless I jot something down, my memory is utterly dreadful. I simply viewed this as an informal preliminary conversation, nothing more."

Ester noted how, despite his easy smile and bright tone, Napier's eyes were sharp and did not miss anything. He had come here looking for them. If he was in the vicinity of Loughton Grange, then it was unlikely that he did not know who the current tenants were. Which made his ignorance highly suspicious. He was hiding his knowledge of her family. There was an ulterior motive to this meeting.

" Preliminary suggests a further meeting and conversation. Was that your intention?" Julian cut in.

"To ascertain the truth behind Your Grace's extraordinary history, yes," Napier smiled.

"And what makes you certain I am the Duke you're looking for?" Julian asked, his voice calm but guarded. "As the Lord as my witness, my life after leaving Windermere has been largely uneventful. A quiet and solitary existence, until I met Miss Fairchild, of course."

"A solitary existence within which the locals at Theydon village came to know you as the Phantom and the Ghoul?" Napier's brow lifted with mock innocence.

Julian's face remained impassive. "I would not know about that. I do not mix with the villagers," he said flatly. "I feel sure that you have the wrong man."

"With all due respect, Your Grace, I do not believe so," Napier uttered.

As the words left his lips, his smile slipped and Ester caught a flicker of something dangerous beneath his charming facade. She realized that denying it would do no good at all. Napier knew his facts and knew that Julian was the so-called Cursed Duke. Julian could drive him away with threats and anger but the man would still write his account and it would be read that Julian was a cursed monster for whom death was a constant companion. She thought about her mother and father hearing this. Even reading it. She thought of Helen's debut. Of Helen being snubbed because of the fear of the Cursed Duke. She glanced at Julian and saw anguish on his face as he glanced back. He'd had the same thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Ester forced a sweet smile onto her face. "Mr. Napier, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?"

Julian followed her lead with a strained smile of his own. "Yes, perhaps afterward we can discuss this... ostensibly remarkable history of mine."

Napier's grin widened, as though the game were won. "Delightful. I know the way back to Loughton Grange. I shall precede you, and we can continue our conversation there."

Another courtly bow followed and Napier took his leave. When he was out of sight, Julian rounded on her, opening his mouth angrily. Ester forestalled him with a hand to his mouth.

"He may still be listening," she whispered.

"Why on earth did you invite him to dinner?" Julian hissed, barely containing his frustration. "I do not want to be anywhere near the man."

"Because," she replied, her voice calm but firm, "he will write his story regardless. At least this way, we can steer it in our favor—give him the truth before he fills the gaps with lies."

Julian stepped into the shadow of the sandy bank, leaning back against it. The shadows made his face hard to read. Ester followed, moving closer until she was looking up into his troubled eyes.

"It seems we rejoiced too soon," he said with a heavy sigh. "Fate has already thrown for us another hurdle to overcome."

"And we shall, as betrotheds," Ester replied, her smile softening her words.

A rare chuckle escaped him, and in the next moment, Julian pulled her against his chest, capturing her lips in a kiss that banished the worry, if only for a fleeting moment.

After they broke apart, still breathless, Julian's voice dropped to a low murmur. "Do you think that odious insect is still lurking in the shadows, watching us?"

Ester shook her head. "It would be his word against ours."

"Hm. I'd like to know where he got his information from," Julian muttered, "I smell Kingsley's hand in this."

Ester ran her fingertips over his broad chest, fingers kneading at the suddenly rigid muscles there. "We will overcome. He cannot simply lie, can he?"

"If he prints anything I do not like, I'll drag him into court myself. And I will win."

"Perhaps he is an honest man who simply wants to know the truth about the curse. This could be our chance to forever put to bed the gossip that has haunted you," Ester suggested. "We should get back. I don't want to let him be alone with my family for too long. They will worry."

Julian nodded, moving immediately, holding Ester's hand in his own. He led her up the track to the top of the bank and then into the trees.

"Above all, I will protect Helen's name and yours. I will not let association with my name harm an innocent girl just starting out in life."

"So, I am not innocent?" Ester asked flirtatiously.

"Far from it," Julian replied with a rogue's grin, "besides, as my future wife, I can only insulate you so much from the gossip. Helen needs to be more thoroughly protected. So do your mother and father for that matter. Let us see what this man wants and deal with him accordingly."

Ester found herself touched by Julian's protectiveness over her family. The man who had pulled her from the lake had been prepared to hold her against her will because he believed she was dying from his touch. He had been blunt, almost abrasive and had regarded others as anathema to his solitary life. Now, he defended people he had only just met, serving as their champion in protecting their name. He had become heroic in her eyes. A knight from the age of Arthur, chivalrous and noble.

When they reached Loughton Grange, the lawn table was empty and bare. They entered and followed the sound of voices towards the library. Harper appeared to greet them, concern on his face.

"Your Grace, Miss Fairchild, thank goodness you… have returned." His eyes drifted to their damp clothes.

"We fell into the lake," Julian uttered, not truly bothering to hide the lie.

"It is not my place to pry," Harper quickly cut in. "But I take it you are familiar with our visitor?"

"We have encountered him and I invited him for dinner. He desires an audience with the Duke," Ester explained.

Her voice was frosty and she was aware of it. Though she believed Harper's pure intentions ever since his apostasy from Kingsley, she did not think she could ever summon the will to be anything but stiffly formal with him. With other servants, she was warm and informal, preferring to treat them as extended family. With Harper though...

"Very good, Miss Fairchild," Harper replied, "you are aware of who he is, though, yes?"

"A writer for the London Times," Julian filled in. "That is why we have extended this invitation to him. I would rather have him as a friend than an enemy."

"But I am familiar with him personally," Harper said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "He is a rogue of the worst order and an author of sensationalist literature. The Times may have employed him once but no longer. Only the cheapest scandal sheets do so now. The kind that are devoured by Americans and the French for their accounts of debauchery and debasement among the English gentry. I do not believe that this man would write an honest account, Your Grace."

Julian and Ester exchanged glances at this.

"Thank you for the warning, Mr. Harper," Ester said, "we will act accordingly."

Julian was looking at the library door where Napier's voice could be heard in conversation with Lady Janet.

"We must be careful of what we speak in front of him," Ester whispered.

"Should I instruct the kitchen to send up brandy, Your Grace?" Harper asked.

Julian nodded grimly. Then he offered his arm and, when Ester took it, led the way to the doors of the library, knocked once, and then entered.