Page 46 of Rescued By the Icy Duke
Amonth had slipped by since Julian had rescued Ester from the clutches of the lake. Four weeks had passed since Ester had returned to her father’s house in Loughton Grange to help her mother tend to him.
Julian felt strangely naked as he left the familiar byways and shelters of Epping Forest. Rufus, his ever-loyal mount, carried him along a straight road that undulated through a patchwork of meadows and fields. Farmhouses dotted the landscape, their chimneys sending lazy spirals of smoke into the warm afternoon air, a signal of life amidst the rolling green expanse. To his right, a darker range of hills rose, their distant peaks cloaked in a soft, purplish haze. To his left, flat tranquil English countryside with the dark silhouette of Epping in the far distance.
The air carried a lovely warmth of early spring, and Julian wore his finest today—a new top hat perched smartly on his head, paired with a waistcoat of a rich purple brocade, over a crisp, white silk shirt. His cravat, in perfect harmony with the waistcoat, lay knotted impeccably at his throat. And his boots,polished to a gleaming finish by his newly hired footman, Mr. Christopher Harper.
Harper followed at a respectful distance on one of Julian’s other steeds. So far, the man had proven himself both humble and capable, even managing to gain the approval of Crammond. Julian had not been easily persuaded to grant the man employment. But Ester, with her quiet and unshakable belief in the goodness of people, had swayed him. It had touched him deeply—how she could still put faith in someone, someone who by all accounts had seemed beyond redemption.
Julian flexed his hands on the reins, the leather slipping slightly between his fingers.
“Does something trouble you, Your Grace?” Harper’s voice came from behind, steady and observant.
“Ever attentive, Harper,” Julian murmured, not looking back.
“I try my best, Your Grace. It seemed that perhaps you were not… comfortable?”
“I feel bare without my gloves,” Julian admitted, his tone laced with a touch of self-mockery. “Your former employer presumably versed you on my prior… fixation.”
“He did, Your Grace. Though, I must confess, I hardly believed it.”
“And I once believed it wholeheartedly,” Julian continued, his tone growing softer, almost reflective. “I convinced myself that one event led inevitably to another—that if something followed, it was caused by what came before. I thought if I touched anyone or anything with my bare hands, calamity would follow. It does seem rather foolish now.”
Harper seemed to hesitate. Finally, he built up the courage and said, “Your Grace, if I may speak freely?”
Julian glanced back over his shoulder and gave a curt nod.
“I once believed in my master’s actions—when he was squandering your money and his own at the gambling tables, when he sought funds from your good lady. He was my lord, and I never thought to question his behavior or disobey him. I see now how narrow my worldview was.”
Julian’s gaze lingered on Harper, quietly assessing. He watched as the footman absently stroked his horse’s neck, an act of instinctive care. A part of Julian still bristled with the urge to cast the man down—to see him hang for his part in Ester’s ordeal. Yet, had it not been for that very ordeal—cruel as it was—Julian would never have met her. From every evil, there seemed to sprout some thread of good.
“I have not worn gloves in a month,” Julian began, his voice steady. “Not since Ester helped me see the truth.”
“And not since the young Miss placed her faith in me, Your Grace,” Harper added quietly. “I shall mark the day for the rest of my life.”
A month since Julian had severed ties with his oldest friend. A month of liberation from the curse that had shadowed him since childhood. It occurred to Julian then that it had also been a month since he had taken a direct hand in the management of his investments and business interests. Such matters had always been handled by Kingsley. Now, that tie was severed and Julian understood it wise to manage them himself until he could find someone he trusted.
“How deeply were you involved in Kingsley’s finances, Harper?” Julian asked absent-mindedly. “Were you simply his manservant, or did you serve as clerk as well?”
“At first, only a manservant, until his lordship realized that I had an education and a talent for numbers. After that, I became more involved in managing his properties, acting as a sort of estate manager,” Harper explained. “It was then that I realized how deep his lordship had fallen into corruption, but by that point, I was bound to him, too deeply to easily untangle myself. To my great shame.”
“No shame, man,” Julian said gruffly. “I must employ someone in that capacity myself. I make no promises, but if you are as capable as you claim and continue to prove your loyalty…”
He glanced at Harper who had crossed himself and seemed to be uttering a silent prayer. His eyes were closed and his lips movedsoundlessly. When he was done, he opened his eyes and colored when he saw Julian watching him.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Harper spoke, lowering his gaze. “A moment of thanks to the Lord Almighty for my good fortune.”
“It has been a long time since I felt the urge to speak to Him,” Julian replied, turning his gaze back to the road.
Ahead, perhaps a mile or two distant by his estimations, layLoughton Grange. Current residence of the Fairchilds, and home to Ester. That thought alone made Julian’s mouth dry, made his breath quicken. His hands, no longer as pale as they had been a month ago, tightened on the reins.
This was to be his first visit to Loughton Grange. His first meeting with the Fairchild family, and most significantly, the first time he would see Ester since she had left Theydon Mount to return home four weeks prior.
They had exchanged letters regularly, but Julian had yearned to see her every waking hour. Ester had insisted on maintaining a distance though, maintaining the appearance of respectability. Julian understood all too well the necessity of avoiding even the faintest whisper of scandal. It would render everything he had done and Ester had endured pointless to immerse themselves in scandal now.
The road crested a small rise and reached a junction. To the right, he saw Loughton Grange, nestled in a fold of land a mile distant. It looked to be a modest house of Jacobean design,standing proud amid its park but not in any way ostentatious. Suddenly keen to close the remaining distance as quickly as possible and see Ester, Julian spurred Rufus to a gallop. The road was level and straight, the surface even. Rufus relished the opportunity for speed and flew. Tall hedgerows flashed by him and Julian had to put a hand to his hat to keep it in place.
Loughton Grange loomed larger as he raced towards it, only reining Rufus in as they neared the granite gate posts that separated the road from the graveled drive leading through the park to the front door. Julian patted Rufus’ neck as he guided the horse through and up the drive at a canter. The old fears no longer haunted him. While he remained conscious of what he was doing with his hands, as another man might not be, there was no hesitation.
The curse was gone. Had never been. Ester was hale and hearty.