The Heart of a Duke(86)
Her father nodded. “I am not surprised. He was always treating you for your share of scrapes and bruises. Your father said you boys knocked heads worse than two spitting bulls. My Meg spoke to your father about it after you showed up with a broken arm. She suggested your father separate you two, but he disagreed. Believed you needed to work it out yourselves, that it built character. With your smaller size, he worried that you needed to be toughened up or he feared you would always be beaten down.” Her father fell silent, his look regretful. “I wondered if I should have said something, but then it resolved when you enrolled in a different school. You boys were no longer together as much.”
Julia’s heart twisted at the thought of that small, bruised boy, and the knowledge that her mother had noticed the abuse and had tried to intercede. It built character. He needed to be toughened up or be beaten down. She shuddered at the late duke’s callous parenting.
She tamped down her sadness when she saw that Daniel was battling his own emotions. The memories her father had dredged up cast a shadow across his handsome features and darkened those vibrant green eyes.
She ached to wrap him in her arms. To offer the comfort no one had given to that lonely, bruised boy. But she could not. Not yet. Or rather, not with her father standing a few feet away and curtailing any form of battering. She wished he would leave.
“Yes, well, Doctor Reilly patched me up sufficiently, for I did survive as much as I think Edmund wished it otherwise, wishes it otherwise,” Daniel amended.
“Yes, but that is often typical of brothers,” her father offered.
“Edmund is an atypical case,” Daniel said dryly, his eyes hard.
“Yes, I suppose being a duke makes that so.”
“Among other things,” Daniel murmured and briskly changed the topic back to the good doctor. “What did you learn of Reilly? Where is he settled these days? I would like to pay him a visit. Thank him for his kindness.”
“I am sorry, Daniel. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. However, I was at White’s yesterday and I ran into a Bedfordshire neighbor, Viscount Randall. His estate abuts Bedford Hall.”
“Yes, I remember the viscount.” The viscount was a bookish man who liked to drone on about philosophy and religion, wearing Daniel’s father’s patience thin.
“He shared Doctor Reilly’s services with Bedford, and I recalled Julia’s recent query about the doctor, so I asked if the viscount had any knowledge of him. I regret to tell you, Daniel, but the good doctor is no longer with us. What’s worse is that his demise was rather recent and I am afraid it was not of natural causes.” His gaze flicked briefly to her.
Thankfully her father was aware that she was not a woman prone to swoons or flutters, so he continued before she could beg him to do so.
“He had retired to a small cottage on the coast of Kent. Apparently, he upset a burglar in the act of robbing his home and paid too dear a price for it.”
She covered her mouth. She recalled Doctor Reilly’s booming laugh and the toffees he used to dispense to Emily and her when he was called to treat whatever ailments they had at the time. With a twinkle in his eye, he would tout their medicinal benefits.
She knew as surely as she knew her own name that his death was not a coincidence. On unsteady limbs, she walked over to the settee and sank down.
“I am sorry, Daniel.”
Daniel appeared to be grappling with his own shock. He swiped a hand down his face, shaking his head as if he could shake off the truth. “Yes, well, as am I. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was. But he did have a grand retirement, and no thieving blackguard can steal that from him. Randall said his cottage was set on a plum piece of property along the coastline. The doctor had traveled widely over the past decade, going to the continent and even doing missionary work in India. In fact, he had only recently returned to England and purchased the acreage in Kent. Your father was a generous benefactor.”
“I am glad he finished his life in comfort. I would have dearly liked the chance to speak with him. I had a few questions in regard to my father’s last days that only he could have answered.”
Her father nodded. “I understand. There are always unanswered questions when one loses a loved one.” He walked forward and clasped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If there is anything else I can assist you with, let me know, besides convincing my daughter to marry you. I am afraid you are on your own there.”
Daniel summoned a grin for her father, who, after a few moments, nodded and left the room.
When he had disappeared, Daniel broke the silence. “Reilly knew. He knew what Edmund was after. My father must have confided in him. He survived by staying out of the country, as I unwittingly did. Shaw survived by . . . blackmail.” His eyes widened, and he fell silent, turning to pace, as if he needed the movement to get his thoughts going.