The Heart of a Duke(52)

His eyes strayed to the Queen Anne cherrywood tall-case clock, recalling Taunton admonishing Edmund for noting the time more than Taunton’s words. Once again, Daniel was awaiting sanction from Taunton for the same transgression: not looking out for Julia. But he was here to prove him wrong.

Ceiling-high bookcases filled one side of the room, a stone hearth the other. Above the mantel hung an oil painting of the bucolic English countryside. The earl stood across the room before windows overlooking the back courtyard and lawns. Hands clasped behind his back, he appeared lost in the scenic vista outside.

The butler’s introduction had rebounded off the walls and filled the room. Daniel had opened his mouth to speak, but found he had been at a loss for words, the etiquette for this situation having eluded him. He had never ruined anyone’s daughter before.

Taunton rescued him from his indecision. He faced Daniel, his tone deceptively calm for a man bent on avenging his daughter. “I see you ran into Edmund, or rather his fist, as he was leaving. You will have to ice that cheek, it is blooming a mean black and blue. I hope you got a shot in for me.” Taunton did not wait for a response. “Edmund ended the engagement. He cited breach of contract due to Julia’s indiscretion with another party.” He narrowed his eyes. “I believe you are aware of the particulars, being the other party identified.”

He held Taunton’s gaze, surprised to find no censure there and gave a curt nod. “I am, sir.”

“So it is true?” Taunton pressed. “You kissed Julia, your twin brother’s fiancée, in broad daylight, in a main thoroughfare at the fair?”

Edmund always had been a lying bastard. As if they had been a bloody exhibit at the fair. He clamped his mouth shut. The truth could not be buried in Edmund’s lies. Julia deserved better.

He straightened to his full height, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked Taunton straight in the eyes. “Yes, sir, I did. And I am here to make things right and do the honorable thing. I would like your permission for Lady Julia’s hand in marriage.” He anticipated Edmund’s bellow of rage. He hoped his brother choked on it.

Another silence stretched between them, this one drawn tight as a bowstring.

Taunton shook his head. “It is the damnedest thing. I cannot decide if I want to call you out or thank you. Therein lies the problem.”

“Sir, I understand your desire for pistols at dawn,” Daniel said as he shifted his stance, sweat pooling between his shoulder blades. “However, my obtaining a special license might alleviate matters. I do—”

Taunton held up his hand. “Pistols at dawn will not be necessary—yet.” He strolled over to a tall glass cabinet and extracted a decanter of brandy and two snifters. He handed one to Daniel, generously filled them, lifted his glass in a toast, and then downed it. “You see, while I signed the betrothal contract, I had reservations.” He poured himself another, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, motioning Daniel to sit.

Daniel hesitated. The conversation was not going in the direction he had expected. His request for Julia’s hand hung suspended between them. He warily took his seat, but found, unlike Taunton, he could not relax.

Taunton leaned back against his desk and twirled his glass in his hand, brooding into it. “I never thought Edmund the right man for my Julia, but she seemed quite decided on him. At the time, her mother was alive, and she thought Julia would be a good influence over Edmund. As my Meg had been on me.” He shrugged. “Now it is a moot point, which brings us to our present predicament.”

“Sir, I am quite prepared to—”

“So you say. But you are asking the wrong person. You need to speak to Julia. My apologies, but you might as well learn sooner rather than later, Julia is too old and too strong willed to be browbeaten by me or anyone else.” He looked rueful, but then his eyes hardened. “But while I concede that she is old enough to make up her own mind, you need to make damn sure she makes it up in your favor.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. But . . . ah . . . will she speak to me?” He cursed his hesitancy, but he needed to know.

“Julia is upset and confused. She is packing her bags as we speak, determined to go to London, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Bedford Hall.” He shrugged. “London will be quiet. Being out of season, most families will be at their country houses. A change of scenery might help to settle her nerves, for I fear that right now Julia is leaning toward ruination over another engagement. It is your job to convince her otherwise.”

“That could be difficult if she refuses to speak to me, and if she flees to London,” he said, his tone bleak.