Chapter Four

D ear Julian,

Your kisses made me feel things I do not quite understand, but I liked the sensations of your lips against mine. Our short liaison within the gardens replays in my memories. Your hands caressed my skin and left heat where they touched. I wish to explore more of these feelings, but at what cost, I am unsure. Is it wanton for me to feel these things or wonder what more is to come? I am shy to admit that these feelings traveled between my legs and caused a wetness in its wake.

I will research what this means in my godmother's books, but I wonder if it happens with every man, or is it just you? Our times together are completely different than what I expect from a man's touch. I've only known cruelty by people in London, but you are different. Being with you has been more than pleasant, and I will miss you when you return from Barbados to London. I look forward to showing you my home and watching you walk in the surf of the warm waters of the Caribbean.

With fondness,

Delilah

Julian reread each word slowly so he could savor each admission of how he made her feel. He vowed those who showed her an ounce of cruelty would face his brand of justice. No court would see what they did as a crime, but he did, and it had to be answered with equal violence. As he sat in in the study of his house close to the palace, the opulence surrounding him did nothing to give him any type of peace. It was a family home, cold, sterile, and it always made him felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

The expectation of his position and title irritated him to no end, and he always went against society's rules. Marry Emma. He scoffed at the idea. She was nothing if not conniving to say the least. He had spoken to her father and made it quite clear any marriage they were thinking about would never happen.

Julian placed the letter against his nose and smelled the light perfume that could be associated only with Delilah. The paper with the drawn sunflowers around the edges was her signature, and he had no doubt she had drawn them herself.

"You seem quite enthralled by that letter, Son," his father commented as he came into the room. "Is it because I hear you are courting the Grand Duchess's goddaughter?"

He looked at his father, the first Duke of Blackshire, dressed in his evening coat and using his walking stick. His silver hair was combed neatly, and while his legs may be sore in the damp now, he was still sharp as a tack.

"And if so, what do you think of that?" Julian got up and poured his father a brandy while he sat slowly in the second armchair by the fire.

"Maybe the islands will be good for these old bones." His father smiled as he took the brandy. "You know the stigma that will come with this courtship, because of her—"

"Skin color?" Julian finished. "Does that not fit into your version of a suitable wife?"

"I'm not the one marrying her, my son. I have no such bias, but others will."

"I don't give one bloody hell about stigma. Losing me in business alliances would not be in their best interest." Julian felt his irritation rise.

His father nodded. "I know, but she will be in danger because of this engagement. You have made many an enemy, and they will use her to get to you."

"Did you know what Lord Gibson and his American cohort did to her?" Julian asked simply.

His father sighed. "Yes, I stood with the grand duchess to have his title rescinded and for them both to be thrown in jail. Goddaughter or not, because of her skin color, nothing was done. Gibson has no dealings with our holdings because of it. It happened before you returned home."

"I will make them pay," Julian vowed. "She is an exceptional woman, Father, well-read, educated, and a savvy businesswoman. She will make a wonderful wife, and her rum will put a seal on our name and accounts in good standing for years to come."

"Wealth and love, a wonderful combination." His father took a long sip of his brandy. "I shall be there for the engagement party. The invitation came today."

Julian frowned. "What engagement party?"

"Look on the desk over there. Grand Duchess Ellington sent it by courier." The older version of himself waved his hand behind him. "It's to be on Saturday evening."

"I guess I should get a formal suit tailored." Julian grinned. "I'm quite sure my bride-to-be doesn't know what this party will entail."

"It will be quite the event," his father chuckled. "I haven't been excited to be out in the public in a long while."

"I'm sure Bronwyn will be thrilled to see you," Julian said devilishly. "She has spoken of you once or twice."

His father's shoulder's straightened, and he sat a little higher in the chair. "Has she now?"

"There's that sparkle in your eye," Julian chuckled, but then a knock on the door made him frown. "Who would be here this late?"

"Robert will see to it," his father said mildly. "Couriers do come late at certain times."

"Sir, there is a rather wretchedly dressed man here to see you," Robert said, "sent by Master Hershel."

Julian stood and went to the hallway, where the man stood with an old hat clutched in his hand. He was dressed as one would when you lived in the Acres, clothes in tatters and a coat that would hold back no chill of the night.

"I'm Duke Blackshire," Julian said. "Why has Hershel sent you?"

"The young Hershel sent me." The man repeated his friend's name. "I went to him first, and he told me to come right 'ere."

"Why?"

"I heard some talk tonight in one of the whore—"

Robert cleared his throat.

"Sorry, one of the houses of ill repute," the man said. "Two men, one American, talking about Duke Blackshire's darkie being easy to take. They paid about five men or so, to steal her away from the grand duchess's home tonight. They say the duchess drinks heavily, and it will be easy to take her and the young maid."

"Robert, bring me my night coat and my pistol," Julian said briskly.

"The horse will be saddled," Robert replied and turned away.

Julian then turned his attention back to the man. "How do they think they'll do it?"

"They were laughing, sir," the informant continued. "The house has been watched since they arrived, sir, the young miss and the girl who sits in the garden when the night is clear to watch the moon. Mr. Hershel is on his way there now. I went to his home first. I've done some work for him in the past."

"Fuck!" Julian took his coat from the housemaid the houseman sent with his things.

Robert came through the front door soon after. "The horses are ready, sir. I will go with you."

"I'll come along, Son," his father said firmly. "Don't even try to say no."

Julian nodded. "Very well, sir. Wait for us in the kitchen. The staff will feed you and find you some clothing. When I return, I shall pay you handsomely for this information. You now work for me. You hear anything, it comes to my ears, or those of Hershel, immediately."

The man beamed. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Franny, show him to the kitchen. Give him anything he wants to eat or drink. Send clothes for his family as well if he has them," Julian said, watching his father move without his cane, but with determination, toward the door. He turned to Robert as they left. "I assume you have called for three horses?"

Robert snorted. "I know this family."

They rode away from Blackshire mansion as if the devil was on their heels, Julian's heart racing with fear and unrestrained anger. If these men got to her first, God knows what he would do. Certainly, Lord Gibson would have his neck wrung that very night. Ian Saur, well, it would be a pleasure to remove him from the earth. Julian reined in his horse on the outskirts of the Ellington estate, and he heard a low whistle just before Cameron came to them low to the ground.

"Have you seen any of them?" Julian asked in lieu of saying hello.

"They're around. I saw five so far," Cameron replied. "The ladies haven't come out as yet, so they lay in wait."

"I want them dead before they can even try to touch Delilah or Juno," Julian said bluntly. "Father, make your way to the house and have them wake the grand duchess, quietly, and tell her what's going on. I don't want Delilah to ever know of this. She is so afraid, she may tuck tail and leave immediately for Barbados."

"How is that a bad thing? She'd be safe there," Cameron pointed out.

"Because I'm going to marry her and keep her safe from people like this," Julian replied. "We'll remove the unwanted guests when we're done. Then I'll go get my father discreetly while the women enjoy their night without a care in the world."

"Understood," Robert said briskly. "Let's get this done. Hopefully they don't get blood on my clothes. It's a horror to remove."

"Spoken like a true soldier gentleman," Julian murmured, knowing Robert's past with his father.

They moved into the gardens, and while Cameron pointed out the men sent to kidnap both women, Julian was already picking them out with a keen eye. He could've shot them, but that would attract the others' or Delilah's attention. Instead, he pulled a knife from his boot, moved stealthily to the first man, and put his large hand across his mouth, muffling the sound of surprise. He slit his throat, without hesitation, and moved on to the second man, severing his spine at the base of his skull with his knife. Julian didn't even give him a second glance as he left the body twitching in the throes of death. In all, there were seven of them. Cameron had missed two, and Robert dispatched them with the malice of a soldier who had long worked overseas in Her Majesty's army.

The last man, Julian held from behind, his large hand around the assailant's throat, before whispering harshly, "Who sent you?"

"No one, just robbing the place," the man rasped out.

"By hiding in the gardens?" Julian snarled softly. "Speak truth, man!"

"Why should I? You're going to kill me anyway," the man shot back, but his voice trembled.

Julian bent low to the man's ear. "But your answer determines how you die. Why should you be the only one to suffer?"

"What do you want to know?" the man finally asked, his voice hoarse.

"I heard that it was Lord Gibson." Julian's voice was low. "Now confirm or deny."

Julian felt him swallow thickly before he nodded. "He sent Saur to hire us. His Lordship would never be caught making a deal like this."

"Do you know of any other plans?" Julian asked.

The man managed a hoarse laugh. "Do you think he'd share with someone like me? I do know, whatever it is, your darkie won't die quickly. He has long-term plans for her."

"Really, is that so?" Julian's voice was deadlier than before. Those words erased any pity he might have felt, and the thought of letting this man go faded away. He slid the knife across the skin of the man's throat and listened to him choke. "Pity, you'll never know what happens."

It was over before it began, none of the men knowing they were going to die until the act happened. At the end, he helped Cameron and Robert move the men to the woods, where others would ensure the bodies weren't found, or at least not together.

"I'll get my father..." Julian began.

"Sir, he has decided to stay." Robert came out of the darkness. "It seems he and the grand duchess have much to catch up on."

Julian held up his hand. "Let's leave it at that. He knows his way home. You both head on, and I will catch up soon. I want to ensure she is safe when they do come outside."

"Very well," Robert said. "I will pay the man at the house and make sure he and his family are placed in better conditions."

"Good man. Cameron, stay the night. We'll eat breakfast and get started on some type of plan for these two," Julian added.

"Thank you, it's not like I have someone waiting in my bed," Cameron said with dry humor. "Maybe one day soon."

Julian watched them ride away for an instant before he hid himself and watched for Delilah to come outside. He didn't have to wait long. She came out alone, and the moonlight cast her in an ethereal glow. Her hair was loose, the thick mass of curls framing her face and flowing down past her shoulders, almost to the middle of her back. Her beige cotton nightgown was almost transparent, and the moonlight nearly caused her body to be seen though the fabric.

He could easily make out the rise of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Desire coiled within him, and then anger because he knew if they had not been warned that night, Delilah would've been taken. Unable to resist and belying his own words, he made his way over to the path and casually walked into the garden. Delilah turned in startled surprise when she heard his footsteps on the pristine white path stones.

"Duke Blackshire, what are you doing here?" she asked with wide eyes.

"My father is here with the grand duchess, and I made sure he got here in one piece," Julian answered.

"This is well beyond visiting hours," Delilah said, and then realization crossed her face. "Ohhh."

"Yes." Julian's smile was wide.

"Aren't they too told for that...um...activity?" She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"I plan to be doing that well into my golden years," Julian chuckled. "You should be inside, not out here in the dark. There are dangers in the shadows."

"It's Aunt Bibbie's garden. No one would dare," Delilah said casually.

He muttered a curse and grabbed her by the shoulders. "This isn't the island, Delilah. Nowhere is safe."

"I wanted to see the moon, to remind myself that I will be on my way home soon," she replied. "Am I to be a prisoner until we leave?"

"No one is saying that, but you must be wary."

"I heard you coming." She lifted her chin defiantly.

"I was in the shadows for a long while." He gave her a swift shake. "I wanted you to hear me. If it was someone else, you would be gone, and no one would know where. You have enemies here."

"All the more reason for me to go." Delilah turned to leave.

"Not quite yet," Julian murmured. "You looked like a goddess bathed in moonlight."

"It is the only time I feel free of the restrictive corsets trying to cut off my breath, the heap of skirts and petticoats," she admitted. "I want to be free of here so badly."

"Free of me?" he asked huskily.

Delilah frowned. "You're traveling with me, if I recall."

"You are so logical about everything." Julian ran his hand over her back to her nape. Feeling her shiver delighted him even more. "Can't you tell I want your affection?"

She answered with a nod. "But I don't understand why. There are countless women in society that would love to be on your arm. Why me?"

"They are not you," Julian answered gently. "They don't show their strength with such delicate mannerisms. They expect wealth, while you are happy with the simplest things, like writing letters. I want to cherish that in you and shower you with my passion and defend you with my life."

"But to what end?" Delilah persisted. "After you return from Barbados, we will have no other contact and—"

He cut her words off with a kiss and pulled her body against his. Julian could feel her every curve, and as he moved his hands upward, to under the curve of her breasts, a soft groan escaped him.

"I could show you so much pleasure." His whisper was harsh against her lips. "Right here, sitting on my lap on one of the stone benches, I could make you whimper and cry out my name for more. Would you like that, darling Delilah?"

"Please."

The one word was a soft plea that made his cock ache. Instead of doing exactly what he had offered, Julian held her tight against him for only another instant, then pulled away with a groan.

"I'll not have your first time with me happen in a sordid liaison," he said gently. "It will be in my bed, warm, so I can map your body by firelight in my room. Not even the moon will be able to kiss your skin before me."

"Your words make me want things, feel desire and an ache." She looked up at him with innocent eyes. "It frightens me, Julian, because the last hands that touched me caused..."

She turned and pulled down the shoulder of her nightgown to reveal a scar. It was four inches long and puckered the beautiful dark skin of her back. It was like a brand. Only hot metal would leave a scar like this. As Julian traced the scarred skin, he didn't even realize that his anger made primal noises escape him.

She covered his hand with her own. "It's been a long time since it's given me pain."

"Not here," he said gently before placing a tender finger on her temple. "But here, the scars and fear still linger. I will take this away from you so you can finally find peace."

"How?" Delilah asked gently.

"I'm going to kill the man who did it," Julian answered simply before kissing her scarred skin. "Now go inside and get warm. No more nightly jaunts out to the gardens. Watch the moon from a balcony."

"Yes, Julian."

A soft laugh escaped him. "I like hearing my name from your lips."

"Me too." A slow smile spread across her face. "Good night."

He watched her go back inside, and the door was closed firmly behind her. Julian listened for the metal scraping of the lock before he went back to his horse. His marriage would secure her in more ways than one. Her fortune would be secured as well. Despite what he had said to his father, the Blackshire name would take not one penny from her distillery as its own. All Julian wanted was her love. The fact that their combined venture would make them richer than most men in London was an added bonus. The next time he and Delilah returned, they would be begging her for an audience, and he would make them grovel at her feet.

THE NEXT MORNING, JULIAN sat with Herschel and his father at the breakfast table. His father was in a jovial, hungry mood and apparently had come home in the early morning hours.

"I haven't seen you put away a meal like this in a long time," Julian commented.

"In the company of a fiery woman, one gains an appetite," his father said as he put butter on his bread. "After three drams of rum, she is rather..."

"I'd like not to even hear the rest of the sentence." Julian held up his hand with a wince. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.

"What are your plans today?" Cameron asked.

"I have a meeting with some industry men this morning. Then I plan to see Lady Gibson," he said mildly.

"Is that wise, Son?" His father gave him a worried look.

"To get all the chess pieces in place, yes," Julian replied, and he turned to Cameron. "I want every dirty little thing on Ian Saur. I want the women they've hurt, anyone missing. I want the medical examiner's reports on any women who have died because of him."

"There's going to be very little to go on. You know how they feel about women found down in the Acres." Cameron frowned. "Like their lives aren't worth a bloody thing."

"Go to Violet. She will reexamine the bodies after Cooke does his least," Julian said. "That man is a drunk and a bastard. Violet should be running that office. She's been doing it for a while now."

"The chief constable won't listen to a woman," Cameron snorted, "but he sure loves to think he's part of the societal crowd."

"That will all change soon enough," the older duke said. "The winds of change are everywhere."

"From your lips..." Cameron lifted his cup in a cheer. "What will you do with all this information?"

"Pass it on to Scotland Yard, go above the chief constable's head. I want him to be a fugitive, to be threatened with jail so he'll react badly." Julian took a sip from his own cup.

"Then?" his father prompted.

Julian scooped up his eggs on his fork. "Then I kill him."

"I would be concerned if it was any other man, but with that one, there is no better end to a miserable life," Cameron agreed. "So, all this will be to ensure your case is sound as to why you killed him?"

"I'm a duke, yes, but I still want to keep our family name unspoiled," Julian replied.

"Quite right, Son," his father said, still tucking into his food with enthusiasm.

After breakfast, Julian took the carriage to his offices, where Mr. Wesley and Mr. Cotswold were waiting in his reception area. Both men were dressed in their usual finery and sat with their hands neatly perched on their thigh. They stood when Julian entered the office. He knew most of the men in his social circle disliked him. He was the youngest by far to be given his title, he was wealthier than all of them combined, and he remained unshaken under spacious scrutiny, blackmail tactics, or their brand of business. That usually ended with him taking action that no one liked.

"You're early," Julian said in a clipped annoyed tone. "Paulette, please bring tea into my office."

"Good morning, sir, and yes, sir." His secretary got up and went to the kitchen.

"She's a pretty one. Do you play—-house with her when there is no one about?" Mr. Wesley said jovially.

"I would suggest holding your tongue in my presence." Julian's dark look quelled his amusement quickly. "Come through."

They followed him to his office silent as church mice and stood until he took off his coat and sat down behind his desk. Soon after, his secretary brought in the tray with their tea.

"Well, gentlemen, what is this about?" Julian asked mildly.

"We want a percentage of whatever deal you're making with the goddaughter of the grand duchess," Mr. Cotswold said bluntly. "Everyone knows her distillery makes the finest rum coming from the Caribbean. She has her own field, and she built a profitable business from nothing."

"In all actuality, a few of us have asked the grand duchess to court her, with a staunch refusal from even penning a letter to Delilah," Mr. Wesley added. "We know she, shall we say, coerced a partnership with you, and we'd like to throw our hats into the pot."

The thought of Delilah's handwritten letters being in any of their hands made him want to throw them out the windows of his office down to the street.

"This from the men who tried to send her from our meeting." Julian kept his cool. "And what coercing was used, I wonder?"

"One of the staff said she left the library after the party was over, hair down and tousled, like she had a liaison." Mr. Cotswold grinned wickedly. "So much for your high-and-mighty attitude about women."

"If I did, and garnered a contract of partnership with Miss Le Croix, why then would I share such a deal with you?" Julian asked.

"Because you owe us." Mr. Cotswold's tone became dark. "We have backed many of your proposals—"

"At a large profit to you," Julian finished the sentence. "Gentlemen, listen very carefully when I say to you, I owe you nothing."

"How well do you think any new partnerships will go without us?" Mr. Wesley asked. "Have some common sense, man, and take our money. We can be silent partners."

"And if something ever happens to me, you'll be there to protect Miss Le Croix's assets," Julian mused.

"Exactly." Mr. Cotswold sat back. "You need us."

"Silent partners?" Julian asked.

Mr. Wesley nodded. "Quite."

"Very well, you shall be silent partners"—Julian hesitated, watching them salivate, before finishing his sentence—"because you'll be no part of any business venture I have with Miss Le Croix. While you think you've wrapped it in a pretty package, I know you all, and I'd say in about six months, I would have a terrible accident, and then Miss Le Croix's business would be yours for the taking."

"That's a foul accusation," Mr. Wesley said in a huff.

Julian chuckled. "One that is correct, because neither of you can meet my gaze. Thank you, gentlemen, but I already have someone I can trust to join me in my ventures."

"It's unwise to tell us no." Mr. Cotswold's tone was deadly. "We can always throw our influence behind Lord Gibson."

Julian leaned forward and pinned them both with his stare. "Then you'll receive the very same treatment I have for him. In fact, I'll start now. Considering your brash threats, you have one week to repay my marker loans you have procured over the years."

Both men literally blanched before Mr. Wesley stammered, "You can't be serious, Blackshire."

"It's ‘Your Grace.'" Julian's comment was blunt.

"We don't have that much liquid assets to pay you what we owe," Mr. Cotswold snapped.

"You don't have the assets, liquid or otherwise." Julian didn't even blink. "Remember, I owe you, so this should be easy so we can break ties completely. You align yourself with the likes of Lord Gibson. Then he can surely help you out of this predicament you talked yourself into."

"Your father will have something to say about this. We've had business dealings since long before you were born." Mr. Cotswold was practically vibrating with anger.

"Well, Allen, he's at home right now. I suggest you call for an audience," Julian said. "Till then, you have a week, and it's time for you to leave my offices."

"Very well, Blackshire, but you're making a mistake." Mr. Wesley, the more passive of the two men, stood.

"I guess we'll find out if you're correct sooner or later." Julian poured himself a cup of tea and opened a file on his desk. "Good day, gentlemen."

The two men silently left, and soon his secretary came in. "Shall I remove the tea tray, sir?"

"Not quite yet," Julian answered, and as she turned to leave, he spoke again. "Paulette, you are invaluable to me. Please know that, and by next week, you'll be moved into an office where you can begin bookkeeping, putting your education to good use."

Paulette beamed. "Thank you, sir. I can't wait to tell my fiancé."

"Tell him it comes with a pay raise, so you can both find a good place to live when you're married." He smiled. "I'll take my tray to the kitchen when I'm done."

"I can do that, sir," she protested.

Julian nodded. "I know, but I can as well. In fact, sit, have a cup of tea with me, and tell me about Bradley's plans after you're married."

He never saw a broader smile than the one on Paulette's face when he offered her tea and to talk. It was clear why women wanted to be treated as equals. Would it happen in his lifetime? He didn't know. Still, he would ensure that any woman in his employ was treated with equal respect. That included women who had brown skin. If anything was to change, it had to start somewhere, and it seemed to fall to him.