Page 55 of Rescued By the Icy Duke

Julian’s face remained impassive. “I would not know about that. I do not mix with the villagers,” he said flatly. “I feel sure that you have the wrong man.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I do not believe so,” Napier uttered.

As the words left his lips, his smile slipped and Ester caught a flicker of something dangerous beneath his charming facade. She realized that denying it would do no good at all. Napier knew his facts and knew that Julian was the so-called Cursed Duke. Julian could drive him away with threats and anger but the man would still write his account and it would be read that Julian was a cursed monster for whom death was a constant companion. She thought about her mother and father hearing this. Even reading it. She thought of Helen's debut. Of Helen being snubbed because of the fear of the Cursed Duke. She glanced at Julian and saw anguish on his face as he glanced back. He'd had the same thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Ester forced a sweet smile onto her face. “Mr. Napier, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?”

Julian followed her lead with a strained smile of his own. “Yes, perhaps afterward we can discuss this... ostensibly remarkable history of mine.”

Napier’s grin widened, as though the game were won. “Delightful. I know the way back to Loughton Grange. I shall precede you, and we can continue our conversation there.”

Another courtly bow followed and Napier took his leave. When he was out of sight, Julian rounded on her, opening his mouth angrily. Ester forestalled him with a hand to his mouth.

“He may still be listening,” she whispered.

“Why on earth did you invite him to dinner?” Julian hissed, barely containing his frustration. “I do not want to be anywhere near the man.”

“Because,” she replied, her voice calm but firm, “he will write his story regardless. At least this way, we can steer it in our favor—give him the truth before he fills the gaps with lies.”

Julian stepped into the shadow of the sandy bank, leaning back against it. The shadows made his face hard to read. Ester followed, moving closer until she was looking up into his troubled eyes.

“It seems we rejoiced too soon,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Fate has already thrown for us another hurdle to overcome.”

“And we shall, as betrotheds,” Ester replied, her smile softening her words.

A rare chuckle escaped him, and in the next moment, Julian pulled her against his chest, capturing her lips in a kiss that banished the worry, if only for a fleeting moment.

After they broke apart, still breathless, Julian’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Do you think that odious insect is still lurking in the shadows, watching us?”

Ester shook her head. “It would be his word against ours.”

“Hm. I'd like to know where he got his information from,” Julian muttered, “I smell Kingsley's hand in this.”

Ester ran her fingertips over his broad chest, fingers kneading at the suddenly rigid muscles there. “We will overcome. He cannot simply lie, can he?”

“If he prints anything I do not like, I’ll drag him into court myself. And I will win.”

“Perhaps he is an honest man who simply wants to know the truth about the curse. This could be our chance to forever put to bed the gossip that has haunted you,” Ester suggested. “We should get back. I don't want to let him be alone with my family for too long. They will worry.”

Julian nodded, moving immediately, holding Ester's hand in his own. He led her up the track to the top of the bank and then into the trees.

“Above all, I will protect Helen's name and yours. I will not let association with my name harm an innocent girl just starting out in life.”

“So, I am not innocent?” Ester asked flirtatiously.

“Far from it,” Julian replied with a rogue's grin, “besides, as my future wife, I can only insulate you so much from the gossip. Helen needs to be more thoroughly protected. So do your mother and father for that matter. Let us see what this man wants and deal with him accordingly.”

Ester found herself touched by Julian's protectiveness over her family. The man who had pulled her from the lake had been prepared to hold her against her will because he believed she was dying from his touch. He had been blunt, almost abrasive and had regarded others as anathema to his solitary life. Now, he defended people he had only just met, serving as their champion in protecting their name. He had become heroic in her eyes. A knight from the age of Arthur, chivalrous and noble.

When they reached Loughton Grange, the lawn table was empty and bare. They entered and followed the sound of voices towards the library. Harper appeared to greet them, concern on his face.

“Your Grace, Miss Fairchild, thank goodness you… have returned.” His eyes drifted to their damp clothes.

“We fell into the lake,” Julian uttered, not truly bothering to hide the lie.

“It is not my place to pry,” Harper quickly cut in. “But I take it you are familiar with our visitor?”

“We have encountered him and I invited him for dinner. He desires an audience with the Duke,” Ester explained.