Page 13 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

C ollapsing onto the bed, Julian laid there in a huff for some time while he tried to focus on the beating of his heart.

His correspondence to the household had been short and to the point: he was arriving for a month’s stay with his wife, and they were bringing approximately so many servants, chests, and so on with them.

I should have mentioned where I wish to stay in the manor instead of here.

Even if he was the duke and thus meant to reside in the master’s bed chamber, that didn’t necessitate actually using them. He rubbed his face in frustration. Though he’d never been granted entry here as a child and wouldn’t have recognized this space in general, he didn’t care to be here.

Not where his father had resided.

I don’t want to be anywhere that you are or were. I hardly even care for this title, you old man. Thank the Lord you’re in the grave. That’s a small blessing at least.

“You can’t haunt me here.” Julian spoke the words aloud to convince him of the situation. He let out a small huff before pulling off his shirt and flinging it to the side, too warm at night to wear much if he could help it.

No one replied. It was for the best, he supposed.

Eventually Julian was able to close his eyes.

He shut out the world and tried not to think of anything.

Genevieve was too confusing to think about at this hour.

His parents didn’t belong here in his mind any longer.

There was nothing that warranted his attention but a few hours of peace before he started work again to salvage his name and his countless problems.

For a while, he was able to doze. The night was dark and quiet with only the occasional sound of an owl. His large bed hosted a large canopy that blocked out most of the shadows and other troubles. But it didn’t take long for Julian’s rest to grow disrupted as it was often wont to do.

He tossed and turned. Restless and lost in his dreams, he struggled to make sense of what was memory and what was real.

Thinking of the hot damp of his hands, Julian made out the face of his good friend now pale from blood loss. The man’s grasp on Julian’s uniform was loosening by the second.

“Take me home,” Colonel Davis whispered. “I want to see my farm again.”

“I will,” Julian said, his promise low and heartfelt even as someone clamped their hand on his shoulder. “Captain? Captain, we have to help Davis to safety. If you take his legs, I can––”

The brusque voice responded, “No. He’s already gone.”

Although Julian shook his head, he glanced down again to see that his captain was right. Davis was staring at him but he wasn’t breathing. The grip on his uniform jacket was loose. When Julian jerked in surprise, the hand fell between them.

“But he asked… Can we return his body?”

“This is war,” was all his captain had to say as a reminder. Julian knew what it meant. No honor. No homecoming. No way to keep his promise.

How many promises did he have to break simply because it was war?

Tearing himself from the bitter dream, Julian wrestled free of his blankets.

He dried the damp on his face after making sure his hands were no longer covered in blood.

A vague memory returned of how long it had taken to get the dark stain out from under his nails.

Clenching his hands into fists, Julian shook his head.

“It’s just a memory,” he told himself out loud. “It’s over.”

The war might not be entirely over, he knew, but right now his portion was.

He recalled the parting words of his captain––Julian had a replacement.

There was no need or expectation for him to return.

But he had insisted, promising his captain he would be back soon. That he belonged out there in the navy.

It's not as though I belong anywhere else, do I?

Looking up, Julian found that daylight was already breaking free. He slid free of the bed to gaze out into the dawn. It turned the sky into a dark gray that would soon turn into something magnificent. The sunrises here were beyond stunning.

All he had to do was wait until then.

He paced about as the remnants of his dream haunted him.

Though he had written a letter to Davis’s home, sending them what he’d found in his friend’s coat along with some funds, it had not been enough to help Julian be free of his guilt.

There were a few good men he had lost along the way, though they had rarely been in the line of fire.

“You’re only a boy playing at soldiers,” Julian could hear his father’s voice snarling in his head. “There is a title on your shoulders, a mantle of ancestors past relying on you to manage our family name. You are more important than footpads in uniform. How dare you pretend to be anything else?”

“Leave him be. It’s not as though you’ve done anything worthy of note in your lifetime,” his mother would have responded dryly.

Julian shook his head. There was a heavy itch underneath his skin he couldn’t leave alone.

Not in this room where his past haunted him.

Moving about, he managed to dress himself in something somewhat respectable.

After he pulled back the curls into a tight queue, he fled from his chamber and down the stairs.

So what if I am not worth a pound? I can still do something. I have to!

It must have rained some in the night. Stepping outside, Julian was met with a dewy morning. He could feel the moisture thick in the air. Breathing in deep, he put his hands on his hips to force himself to keep walking.

His steps were large and swift all the same. Soon, he had reached the stables. Waving off a bleary-eyed stable boy, Julian murmured for him to go back to bed. He might have been in the navy, but he could still manage a horse all on his own.

“Good morning, my boy,” he muttered under his breath to Prince, a energetic two-year-old horse he’d won in a gambling den just before his wedding. The horse had been brought here and was already wide-awake, and very curious about him. “Yes, I can tell you need to stretch your legs now, eh?”

It didn’t take him long to saddle and prepare the horse. A strap here, a buckle there, and Prince was primed and ready to go. Julian was seated in a moment. He noted the horse’s impatience and flicking ears.

“Thank the Lord. Go on, then.” He flicked the horse lightly with his heel and they took off.

Julian didn’t care for a whip or a hat. Wind rippled around his crown, tugging at his clothing and hair as they took off.

He gave Prince the lead and could feel the stress leaving his shoulders as they sped up.

The stables had treated the horse well for he knew this terrain well and moved expertly around the trees and over some low fences.

They ran. Together as one, this morning ride let Julian forget himself. Forget his past. He let go of those who he had lost and those who had lost him, freeing him as much as he could be at a time like this.

He didn’t keep track of the sun. Time continued to pass when he and Prince slowed down, chests heaving and drenched in sweat. It had to have been near two hours by this point.

“Whoa boy,” he said at last. “Let’s slow down, shall we?”

Breathing hard, Julian considered where they were. The orchard and pond weren’t too far ahead. He slid from the saddle to let his horse rest. Together, they walked to the pond where Prince greedily drank for some time before they steered back toward the stables.

His lungs felt renewed. Although there was still a shadow hanging on his shoulders, Julian could tell the ride had done him some good.

Only now he was wrung dry all the way to his bones. Tired and worn, he nearly stumbled when someone appeared in his way.

“Your Grace.” Genevieve’s odd tone had Julian straightening up and brushing the damp hair from his head. His wife tilted her head, staring at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Disgust? Amusement? Perhaps curiosity. “Good morning.”

A glance down over himself proved he was assuredly a most odd sight to see at this early hour.

He lacked a jacket and cravat, his neck bare and revealing.

Sweat had much of his clothing and hair sticking to his body.

He didn’t know how he smelled, deciding not to worry about something he could control just yet.

“Yes.” He glanced at Prince who reached out to Genevieve with interest before Julian tugged him back. “Good morning. I… What are you doing here?”

“I enjoy strolls in the morning, so I thought I might enjoy myself before breaking my fast.” She couldn’t seem to meet his gaze but was staring at the rest of him. He cleared his throat, but it only worked for a short glance, and he wondered just how filthy he might be. “You are…er, riding?”

He gave a short nod. “I was.”

There is room for a jest here, perhaps a touch of flirtation. But my head is thrumming. I cannot think for the life of me what to say at a time like this. My heartbeat is too loud inside my chest. I am wrung too dry to manage anything at this time.

Perhaps Genevieve noticed his struggle for words. She took a slight step forward, before shifting back slightly. “Are you all right?”

“Certainly.” He forced a grin. “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

Her brow furrowed in the prettiest little manner. She was close enough he could rub his thumb over the wrinkle to smooth it out, though he didn’t think she would appreciate that. But he appreciated her classical beauty for the way she could make any sort of mood look rather lovely.

How strange I never noticed before. Did she really not have any pressing suits before I scooped her up? That seems unlikely.

“Your Grace, perhaps I should…”

Seeing she was plotting something, Julian cleared his throat loudly and tried to pull himself together. He needed to put the horse away. A bath. And then he needed ten more hours of sleep. He needed all of this before he could manage another conversation with his wife.

“I should let you go. I have to attend the horse and some other matters this morning,” he managed to say. “Good day, my dear.”

“I… Good day,” Genevieve muttered as he led Prince past her. She let out a quiet huff but he pretended not to hear her.

It didn’t matter, Julian told himself. Because everything was well. And if anything wasn’t, then it was hardly her business. They had enough problems to sort through at this time and worrying about their odd interactions and awkward conversations with one another was not going to help.

Twenty-nine days is all we have to worry about now.