Page 19 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

“ F inally,” Julian said in a low groan as he poured out a glass of brandy.

He had forgotten the energy that was required for a social function, even a garden fete that carried on into the evening. Part of him wanted to collapse in his chair here in the study to sleep. And then there was another part of him ready to keep going through the entire evening.

That was the life I lived. Who needs daylight when one has the night to enjoy oneself?

All of that had been his life just a few years ago. Though he had slowed down over time––the dukedom needed more attention, as did his growing family––he hadn’t expected it to come to such a strong halt. What he anticipated happening during his time in the navy, he couldn’t be particularly certain.

I suppose, in general, I simply don’t know what I’m doing.

“Blasted cad,” he muttered under his breath with a grimace.

He sipped and then moved behind his desk to study the dark landscape outside his window.

There was a crescent moon. Was it waning?

Waxing? He hardly knew. He should. Rubbing his neck, he thought of his men he had left behind in the war.

Although his naval post focused on forging new paths and saving survivors in wreckage, they occasionally went off course.

A short prayer went out to them. He raised his glass and wished them well. Joining them had made it very clear to him just how fortunate a life he had been born into, one he didn’t particularly care for of late.

But he supposed he’d managed to have some fun this afternoon.

His first soiree in a year. How strange it had been to have all eyes on him once again. How easy it had been to fall back into that version of himself, ready to smile and tease and take absolutely nothing seriously.

It hadn’t been a problem previously, but now… now, something felt different. Julian had been consumed by this since midday.

First, he had twirled his wife to make her smile.

The move always garnered attention. He particularly liked her smile, like a rare gem that sparkled when he did something right.

But then they turned to grace everyone else with their presence, and that was usually when he was coming up with something clever to do or say.

And he couldn’t. He didn’t.

There was nothing new or thrilling to share or say or do at the party, which left him quieter than usual and unsettled. He made certain no one could see through to him. But an unease had slipped inside his stomach where he didn’t want to be doing any of this.

It’s like something cracked inside of me.

He had lived this life long enough. He wanted something different.

“The navy,” Julian told the darkness. “I’ll return there. That must be where I belong. I could have purpose again.”

Time slowly slipped on by, the night stretching forward on and on and on until his eyes ached. Eventually he sat down at his desk. But every time he began to doze, he could feel the itch of memories hanging overhead.

He didn’t want to experience those dreadful dreams again.

Just the thought of them churned his stomach.

Slowly drinking another measure of brandy, Julian bided his time.

When he felt himself toppling over, he hastily stood.

The world only tilted slightly. He drained the glass before setting it aside so he might take his candle and wander the house.

Walking would exhaust him to the point of sleeping without dreaming.

That would help him have a dreamless rest. This was how it worked most of the time when he was in uniform, every muscle stretched beyond its limit until he fell into his cot.

Tonight he would walk the house again and eventually collapse into his bed.

He circled the front hall, glancing out the windows from the main parlor to see starlight. It was nicer to focus on the stars than the memories that lingered even now so many years later.

Julian moved to stand in the middle of the hall. He wished he had a drink still in hand. Lifting his gaze to the front door, he remembered the many people he had welcomed into his life from that very spot.

“There’s our golden boy!” He could hear his uncle calling him the day of his father’s funeral.

So much had happened on that day, when Julian was speechless and overwhelmed.

The man had trampled in with his wife and three children.

They had hugged him hard for the morning.

His uncle teared up alongside him at the burial.

And when it was all done, the man helped him write a letter to his mother who had since taken up in a villa in Spain.

Not that it had brought her back. Less than a year later, Julian received a notice from his bank the money hadn’t gone through. It took the work of hiring a man to see what had happened, that his mother was gone as well.

“How sweet you are to give us a home to stay,” another aunt told him the following year. He didn’t like the emptiness and didn’t mind letting family use it while he was still at university. During the holidays, he would invite his friends to accompany him and so he was never alone.

Eventually he had it back to himself, that part of his family taking leave to travel the Continent for some time. That had been perfect for him so he could enjoy raucous parties and use this as his very own gambling hell before everyone preferred to be closer to London.

Not that he had minded. Around that time, the ghosts had started to linger in the shadows. It left a heavy ache in his chest for all the joy he’d experienced here as well as the loss.

“I do hope you’ll be a better man someday.

” His mother had sighed repeatedly on her last day at Southwick.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. Your father was handsome once.

Charming, too. He convinced me we would have a happy marriage.

But what happiness is any longer, I hardly know. Do behave yourself.”

Julian remembered responding, “I’m four and ten.” He would only have his father in this house for another three and a half years.

“Right you are. Well, farewell.”

Once she would have taken her leave, promising to return. Reassuring him that she cared, that his father cared, that all would be well. The two of them had turned sour when he wasn’t paying attention, at some time he was still playing at being a child.

Now, Julian turned his back to the doorway.

Moving down the hall, he reflected on his countless family members. Both sets of his grandparents had been prolific. In fact, so had their siblings, and so he had lost track at several points of his life regarding just how many there were. Debrett’s couldn’t even keep an accurate list.

Everyone liked him and bragged about him and wanted to visit him and asked for a little bit of access to the family coffers. So eager to please, eager to keep them with him, Julian had never turned them down.

It never should have been a problem. But now everything is a disaster. What am I supposed to do?

There was never anyone to answer that question because he was the duke, the one with a title in the family.

Soon, someone would have to be addressed.

Multiple someones. But he didn’t want to think on that.

The realization that time had indeed soured his family, just like his parents, nauseated him.

Did anyone actually care for him or just the title?

At least I won’t put all of this onto the shoulders of a child. Whatever Genevieve has had to deal with will come to an end as well. I just have to sort it out.

He strolled slowly through the gallery, reflecting on faces he had seen up on the walls or in real life for his childhood. Memories washed over him. The feelings that arose had his emotions all over the place until he forced himself to turn away, moving back into the hall.

“Oh!”

Julian jerked, nearly dropping the candle. “Blast it! Who… Genevieve?”

Lifting the candle confirmed the voice belonged to her. A warm golden glow settled over her face as she blinked at him, her brow pinched. Then he noted the loose hair curling down her shoulders. She had a dressing robe cinched neatly about the waist in a warm shade of pink, nearly red.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he noted.

The look she sent him was one of exasperation as she crossed her arms. “We both live here, do we not?”

“Yes, not only during daylight hours. Is something wrong?”

She brushed a loose curl from her cheeks and shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong. I’m simply hungry. That’s all.”

“Hungry?” He echoed. The memory came to him of them on the terrace where she had eaten early in the day beside him.

But that was several hours ago, even before the light supper provided before the garden party ended.

During that portion, he hadn’t sat with her.

“The supper wasn’t as delightful as the afternoon tea? ”

There was movement at her throat as she followed. “No. Not exactly. I didn’t… eat.”

“You didn’t eat anything?”

“I was seated with another duchess and three matrons, none of whom took more than three bites each. It was intimidating,” she admitted with a grim frankness.

He offered a short chuckle and leaned in close as though to share a secret to lightly tease her. “Did you forget that you yourself are a duchess? With an older family than most of theirs, mind you.”

“An older title, certainly, but I’ve hardly the presence or experience they have. It was rather overwhelming.”

“You have been to balls before. Almack’s, certainly.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” She sent him a look of annoyance before nodding toward his candle and turning to have them start walking.

“I’ve been to every ballroom made public in London.

But that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in every one of them.

These weren’t people I had met before, and it was a new environment.

It’s strange being here in the country, I’ll admit. ”