Chapter 17

17

Caroline studied her husband’s profile as the carriage rumbled through the lamp-lit streets. Julian was the very picture of elegance – all sharp lines and brooding intensity. Even in partial silhouette, he was striking.

Just looking at that stern mouth made Caroline’s toes curl. He was not so proper when he put that mouth on her.

“You’re staring, my duchess,” Julian murmured, attention still fixed out of the window. Amusement lurked beneath the velvet timbre of his voice.

Emboldened by the dark intimacy of the conveyance, Caroline allowed her gaze to trace the angles of his face, the broad expanse of his shoulders. She felt no shame in looking.

He was all hers.

“And if I am?” she challenged. “Shouldn’t a wife look her fill of her husband?”

One dark brow was arched, though Julian kept his face averted. “My physique is yours to admire as you please.”

“Oh, I fully intend to take advantage of that privilege. Perhaps I’ll sketch you just like this later. Strong jaw clenched in concentration, eyes fixed on the streets ahead. A brooding Byronic hero.”

“Byronic heroes meet rather tragic ends, if I recall their adventures correctly.”

“True, but they enjoy scintillating escapades along the way.”

All too soon, the carriage rolled to a halt at their destination on Threadneedle Street. Caroline straightened, smoothing her expression back to impassivity. Time to don her mask – the polished veneer of the Duchess of Hastings. Charming. Poised. Utterly unruffled.

Julian’s hand engulfed hers, radiating warmth even through two layers of fine kidskin. “Ready?”

At her nod, Julian helped her down to the pavement. Together, they climbed the stone steps of the looming edifice that housed Edgar Kellerman’s offices. Golden light blazed from the windows, almost garish in its opulence.

Inside, the heavy oak door admitted them into a richly appointed antechamber. Crimson walls and dark wainscoting lent the cavernous space an imposing weight. The whole design intended to intimidate.

At their entrance, the clerk behind the mahogany desk in the foyer snapped to attention. “Do you have an appointment?”

With an air of bored impatience, Julian withdrew a calling card from his waistcoat. “Please inform Mr Kellerman the Duke and Duchess of Hastings are here. I believe he’ll make time to receive us.”

The clerk’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Right away, Your Grace.”

He scurried through a rear door, leaving them alone in the oppressive room. Caroline glanced sidelong at her husband. “You nearly scared that poor man witless with one look.”

“I’m the stoic duke, remember?” Julian murmured.

“Oh, I remember.” She leaned up on her toes, lips grazing his ear. “But not in bed.”

Heat sparked in Julian’s gaze, though his expression remained like granite. “Careful. We’ve business to conclude here, and I’ve yet to have my fill of you this morning.” His voice was silk and smoke, designed to make her squirm.

Caroline forced herself to look away from Julian’s distracting nearness to scan the cavernous antechamber – anything to anchor her thoughts. Vast windows overlooked the bustling London streets, yet no shout or rattle of carriage wheels penetrated the thick glass. Velvet drapes muffled all sounds from outside.

At last, the clerk returned. “Mr Kellerman will see you in his office. If you’ll just come this way.”

They followed him through a maze of wood-panelled corridors adorned with imposing ancestral portraits and Greek statuary – more displays of wealth.

The clerk rapped on the double doors before pushing them open. “The Duke and Duchess of Hastings, sir.”

Behind a polished mahogany desk sat Edgar Kellerman. At their entrance, he rose from his leather chair. “Duke and Duchess, welcome. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Something about his demeanour set Caroline’s teeth on edge. Kellerman’s features seemed a mask, readily donned or discarded.

A snake shedding skin.

“Mr Kellerman,” Julian said in greeting.

“To what do I owe the honour?” Kellerman asked, gesturing them towards the chairs opposite his desk.

Julian’s hand pressed against Caroline’s lower back. To an observer, his expression remained remote. But Caroline sensed his tension.

“I’ve heard some gossip about your Brazilian venture,” Julian remarked as they settled into the plush leather seats. He crossed one leg over the other – the picture of leisurely disinterest. “I’d like to apologize for my previous harsh words when we first spoke about it some months ago. It’s an ingenious scheme, from all accounts.”

Kellerman tilted his head. “I appreciate your interest, duke. But my ventures are often speculative in the early stages. I try not to speak of them prematurely and risk disappointment.” His attention shifted to Caroline. “I also know wives find these conversations tedious.”

Caroline forced a smile. “Don’t hold back on my account, sir. I never interfere with my husband’s business.”

Julian patted her hand. “Do allow my wife the pleasure of feeling involved, Kellerman,” he said. “I’ve come to discuss investments.”

“I’m delighted. But I understood you to be rather discriminating.”

“I am. And I’m told you’re worth my time.”

Reaching inside his coat, Julian produced a silver cigar case and extended it to Kellerman. After a brief hesitation, the financier accepted the gift with a deferential tilt of his head.

Julian placed his own cigar to his lips and lit it. He inhaled deeply, letting the fragrant smoke wreathe his patrician features before he continued speaking. “As it happens, I’ve recently found myself free of certain properties in the West Indies. A surplus of capital could be redirected towards your scheme if I’m persuaded of its merits.”

Caroline watched the entire performance in admiration. Her husband spun flawless lies with virtuoso skill.

Kellerman’s hooded stare turned calculating – scenting opportunity. “Of course,” he demurred. “Forgive my surprise, duke. It’s only that you seemed rather… firm in your reluctance towards investments of this nature before.”

“My inclinations are often complex, and my reasons are my own.” Julian reclined in his chair, one hand draped negligently over the carved arm. He tapped cigar ash into the finial dish, every movement screaming bored wealth and refinement. “I understand from my peers that you mean to corner the South American shipping market. All that lush, untapped land newly opened to commerce.” He paused, holding Kellerman’s gaze. “I’m interested.”

A definite gleam entered the hooded eyes. Even a whiff of ducal interest would grant Kellerman’s scheme legitimacy and influence.

“Well.” His thin lips stretched into a smile. “I admit, having a man of your eminence involved would be… advantageous.”

“The risks sound thrilling,” Caroline said. She filled her voice with honeyed sweetness befitting the useless aristocratic wife Kellerman took her to be. “I should adore an adventure.”

Kellerman’s expression turned indulgent as his stare settled on her. “Do you? I’d thought you a more retiring creature.”

Caroline resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Instead, she let girlish excitement spread over her face. “In my youth, certainly. But recently, I’ve been reminded how much I’ve allowed myself to settle.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Haven’t you heard? I was nearly blown to bits attending the theatre with my husband. All of London is abuzz.”

“Yes, I had caught some idle chatter about an incident.” His assessing stare moved to Julian. “And yet you emerged unscathed. Impressive.”

Something close to possessiveness ignited in Julian’s pale gaze. “I protect what’s mine.”

The blunt words raised the fine hairs on the nape of Caroline’s neck. Spoken as both a warning and a dark promise.

“Some concern for your lovely wife’s safety might be wise in the future, duke,” Kellerman said. “Danger lurks in unlikely places these days.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about my safety. My husband is quite devoted in that regard.” She cast Julian a glance that she hoped read as besotted infatuation.

“Back to business, darling,” Julian said gently, redirecting the conversation. To Kellerman: “How much capital have you amassed?”

“Your peers have committed enough privately to finance a ship or two.” His fingers drummed an agitated staccato on the desktop. “However, these funds will be but a fraction required to launch commercial trade on a global scale.”

“Naturally.” Julian waved his cigar once more. “One must think bigger than two paltry ships to dominate South American markets. My man of business estimated I could divert thirty thousand pounds to you if sufficiently motivated.”

Enough to purchase a small fleet. Caroline watched, fascinated, as Kellerman visibly struggled with his composure.

“That is… most generous, duke,” he said.

Julian shrugged. “I reward those who prove themselves deserving.”

After a moment, Kellerman mastered himself once more. His gaunt features resumed their mask of oily charm. “Yes, well, you’ll find me most deserving indeed. In fact, one of my partners is hosting a party in three days.” He glanced at Caroline. “Various investors will be there – and their lovely wives. It’s certain to be quite a crush.”

“Excellent. We look forward to it.” Julian ground out his cigar in the finial dish and rose to his feet.

“Allow me to walk you out.” Kellerman escorted them back through the foyer to the front steps, a model of deference. “I’m eager to get to know you both better at the party.” Kellerman bowed as he handed Caroline into the waiting carriage. “Until then, duke, duchess.”

Julian rapped with a walking stick on the roof to signal to the driver.

Caroline sagged against the seat. “Ugh. I feel unclean.”

“You were flawless in there,” Julian murmured.

“As were you. I’d nearly forgotten how imposing the Duke of Hastings can be when he’s determined to be ruthless.” She braced her hand against the armrest as the carriage lurched. “Do you think his venture is legitimate?”

“No.” He removed his gloves, finger by finger. “If he’s the man who wrote those letters and his targets are aristocrats, I believe he’s using this scheme to lure them within reach.”

Caroline’s stomach twisted. “Get their fortunes first before killing them, you mean?”

“It’s possible.” he set his gloves aside. “But these assassination attempts are personal. He’s set up this to gain confidence for a very specific reason. We just need to find out why. We’ll attend Kellerman’s party. Watch how he interacts with the investors he’s reeled in. The wives often know more gossip than the husbands.”

“Be careful,” she said. “He thinks I’m a useless society matron, but you promised him thirty thousand pounds.”

“I’m nothing if not careful.” He gestured with his fingers. “Now come here, my duchess. I solved your note this morning, and I believe it mentioned I had yet to pleasure you in a moving carriage. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”