Page 3 of Her Beastly Duke
She was one step ahead of him. “A broken-down carriage would be the perfect ruse to get refuge. Do you not think?”
“It is plausible, but only if it is quite late in the evening. Otherwise, they would try to repair the damage so they could send us on our way,” Duncan replied.
Briar nodded in agreement. “That makes sense as we need to spend the night.”
Duncan sat up and appeared more animated. “I cannot believe that I am considering this. What will we do once we are there? How will we go about it?”
“We will search for the painting once everyone has retired for the evening, and you will leave the money you were paid for it.”Briar paused for a moment. “This is a sound plan unless you can come up with something else.”
The frown creased Duncan’s brows. “Perhaps we should not rush to act, lest we err and find ourselves in an even worse position.”
“Think about it, Duncan. We will certainly be worse off if he discovers the painting,” Briar said with conviction.
Duncan ran both hands through his hair and sighed. His head fell into his palm again, and he had been quiet for so long thatBriar wondered if he was asleep.
Duncan sighed heavily. “We must be discrete, so we must use a false name.”
Briar grinned. “I have already thought of a couple, brother. How about Fairweather or Marsden?”
“I think Marsden will do. Are we to do this tonight?” Duncan held her gaze.
“The sooner, the better. It is a few hours away so we should make our way as Mama and Victoria retire for the evening. We will leave Berkley Estate as soon as we retrieve the painting to ensure we return before we are missed.” Briar spoke bravely, but she was loathe to think what would befall them if they were caught.
Duncan stood. “I will organize the equipage and everything else that we need.”
Briar watched as Duncan walked from the room. He seemed to walk tall again. He had a purpose. He was undoubtedly relieved at the possibility of resolving the issue without ruining his honor. He would not escape unscathed because the duke would know what he had done, but that was the lesser of two evils.
Briar was thrilled at the prospect of doing something exciting. It had become boring at Walcot Hall since they started watching every penny they spent. Socializing was an expense, forthere were new wardrobes and the cost of entertaining, and they could not host guests without the full complement of servants. The last time she did anything remotely exciting was when she was launched into society at sixteen.
She was dazzled by the London season, but her father passed away shortly after they returned to Walcot Hall. During her period of grief, she mourned not only her father but also her way of life. Duncan had returned to complete university at Oxford before he resumed full responsibility for the estate. Mother had insisted that he should see Oxford through, although Briar did not see any point other than keeping up appearances.
Baroness Irene Walcot had not taken the change from wealth to retrenching well. She spent a great deal of time in her bedchamber for the first few months before she gradually started to join the rest of the family for meals. Ever since their father passed away, her mother was fragile, so there would be no point in telling her about their escapade. Mother would become quite distressed, and she would draw within herself again. Briar was happy her younger sister, Victoria, was quite independent. She was often off alone, finding ways to amuse herself so Briar did not need to worry about her being underfoot.
It had taken quite a lot for Duncan to admit he had been foolish and that he had made a terrible mistake. She was grateful he had done the right thing by confessing because she was confident they could resolve it. The situation was not irreparable. Briar refused to accept that it could be—not until they tried everything, as there was too much at stake.
Briar had to prepare for the journey. As she exited the drawing room and climbed the stairs, she could not help the niggling thought that crept into her mind. Neither she nor Duncan had been to Berkley Estate, and they were taking a huge risk to sneak around it at night.
What if one of the servants caught them snooping around?
Briar’s step faltered, and she held onto the banister as she climbed the stairs. Worse yet, what if they ran into the duke? Her mind was blank. She did not know what the devil she would do, and she hoped she would never have to find out.
CHAPTER 2
Berkley Estate, Gloucester
Julius 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. Companionshipand 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 thehaut tonwas 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 thehaut tonwealthier 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 hisduty, 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.
