Page 3 of The Duke’s Return (Dukes of the Compass Rose #2)

H omecomings for a naval soldier were supposed to be celebratory.

After all, not everyone came home. Those that did were forever changed, as Julian had been forced to discover for himself. The number of harsh lessons he learned in the past eleven months were more than he cared to count.

He slipped his hands into his waistcoat as he studied the closed door where his wife had just left him. The urge to follow her grew, his heels feeling light and ready to move after a long day riding through town.

And do what? I’d be stalking a stranger through London.

It was a skill he had now, on ground and at sea. But that would be useless here. There was no need for a duke to bury his elbows in the dirt or stealthily move around in the shadows. He had never been a man to worry much about his title. In the navy, he had simply been another soldier.

Yet now it felt like a weight on his shoulders.

“Blessed saints and Mary. I couldn’t believe a word out of Mr. Norman’s mouth until I saw you there.

” Mrs. Culpepper’s familiar gravelly tone had Julian turning around.

He set his thoughtful mood step aside so he could smile at her.

“Ah, the dashing duke. Your Grace, how wonderful it is to see you again!”

“And you, my dear Mrs. Culpepper. What is it you’re drinking these days, the fountain of youth? I believe you are growing younger every day.”

She chortled. “Imagine that! I won’t be put back in leading strings, Your Grace, not when there’s a household to run.”

“And run perfectly it appears to be,” he told her with a fond smile.

He’d always liked the housekeeper. She had been here longer than he had ever been around.

Even when he took his own rooms in town during his bachelor days, the housekeeper visited weekly to ensure his servants were keeping the place well.

“I’m glad to see you still appear hearty and hale. ”

Upon reaching him, Mrs. Culpepper paused to offer a neat little curtsy as she was wont to do. “Indeed. I wish I could say the same for you. But I see you’ve grown thin and you’re not sleeping. Shall I prepare some soup?”

The devious woman had always known too much.

Julian shook his head and offered a short chuckle before explaining, “I am well enough, thank you.”

It wasn’t the right response judging by his housekeeper’s doubtful expression. She eyed him before offering a small snort. “At least I shall have the time necessary to put you back to rights.”

That made him wince. “I’m afraid I shall not be here long. I was granted leave to stay in order to tend to my affairs. I have every intention of shipping back out in two months’ time.”

“Whatever for? You are a duke. There are others to serve this country, Your Grace.”

He leaned forward. “Would you believe I have come for my wife?”

She stepped closer, clearly curious. “Are you finally going to do right by Her Grace?”

“I am.” In a sense, at least. “Perhaps I’ll sweep her right off her feet.”

She shook her head. “What has changed in you?

There were plenty of reasons he could give his housekeeper, none of which were her business.

Even now, Julian was still testing out which sort of answer he might deliver to his wife.

They’d made an agreement he would leave her in peace as he might request his own peace far away. It had been working well for some time.

Or so I thought. Funny how even being born into a dukedom isn’t enough to solve every problem.

Julian enjoyed trouble as much as the next gentleman.

He’d made a fun go of it during his bachelor days.

His family—and especially the ton—had been amused for the most part.

For a short while, there was a single gossip rag dedicated solely to his misadventures.

And Julian had saved a copy of every one of them.

But now, his wife was in the picture. Her name would be sullied alongside his. Tricks and trouble had been small compared to his situation now.

How it started, I hardly even know.

Two months ago, Julian had been recovering from one of his few but deadly skirmishes in the infirmary when his commanding officer brought paper clippings to him with a grim expression. “You had best see this.”

“Petty gossip? The war is over?” he had jested with a slight cough, his lungs still on the mend.

But his breath had caught in surprise over the clippings.

When a low curse escaped, his officer had nodded. “Precisely. This bodes ill for you, I imagine. More than the mockery you might find here. Is this going to be a problem?”

A rather large problem, in fact, like an interwoven knot of strings he would have to untie. Several concerns crossed his mind. Strangely, it was the matter of his wife that had lingered the longest.

“The name,” she had murmured on their wedding day. “My sisters.”

He would have to go back in person to handle the situation. Because of her.

Julian had cursed again because he hardly knew what to say. When the stern man glared at him, he forced a short apology and then added, “Yes, I’m afraid this is going to be very much a problem. How likely is it I can get myself to London?”

It had taken countless negotiations, with some minor bribery, to ensure he could take his leave. Someone had to take his place, which took two weeks, and then he began his journey home.

By the time he had arrived, just this morning to port, his lungs were well, and the bruises and cuts had healed. He was well enough. But everything else was a brewing disaster.

“Her Grace has established herself very comfortably in the townhouse,” Mrs. Culpepper was saying as Julian pulled himself back to the present. “She’s never been to Southwick, you know. Not that it would do any good; your family would still hound her anywhere she goes.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon? They shouldn’t be hounding her. The entire selfish lot of them should be going through my solicitor.”

Eyeing him, Mrs. Culpepper gave a shake of her head.

“What a pity how men are so blind even in broad daylight. I tell you what, we’d have old Boney sorted right out if the navy were full of women.

Your family thinks your wife is a ticket right into the family coffers. And they always know where she is.”

“I have several estates. Surely she doesn’t stay here in London?”

“She says London is all she knows,” the housekeeper responded defensively. It seemed his wife had won her over in turn. “She should be happy here. Safe. So I expect you to do right by Her Grace. Your Grace,” she added.

Inhaling deeply, Julian found it a little difficult to keep the smile on his face as he tried to concentrate. There was much to be done. He wanted to sort out these matters quickly and efficiently. If he could have everything handled when his wife returned from her afternoon outing, then––

A rap on the door behind them caught him off guard.

His housekeeper startled but hastily moved around to crack the door open to say, “I’m sorry, sir, but the house is not open at this time. Would you like to leave a card?”

“Are you certain?” came a vaguely familiar voice. “I was told the duke would be returning this morning. It’s very important that I speak with him. It won’t do to leave a card.”

“Let him in,” Julian said. He pulled the door open to reveal Louis Winfield, his London solicitor. “You received the letter, very good. There is much I would like to discuss with you.”

Though he knew the matter was serious, he didn’t think his solicitor needed to look so anxious. But the man was nearly dancing, he was so jittery. “I’m afraid a new development has taken place, and… Well, Your Grace, we need to talk.”

Mrs. Culpepper glanced between them. “Shall I prepare tea?”

“No. It appears we’ll need something stronger,” Julian said, finally letting his smile go. There was no more point to pretending any longer. “Leave us be until I ring. Mr. Winfield, my study is just around the corner.”

Still dusty from traveling, he wound up back at the study he had hardly ever used. It was merely where he liked to sign a few papers and keep some particularly fine brandy.

But now Julian settled low in the chair after pouring them glasses.

His solicitor hardly glanced at it before pulling out some folders and papers from his briefcase.

He’d been a struggling barrister at one point, Julian recalled, and after the two of them enjoyed a long bout at his club fencing, Louis had traded roles and trained under Julian’s retiring solicitor to take his place.

Hopefully, this didn’t mean he was about to have to find yet another solicitor.

Don’t I have enough problems? An old Italian mistress claiming I married her with questionable proof, a duel in Paris that ended badly, and questions about my service in the Royal Navy as though I’ve been acting a scoundrel across the Continent instead of serving my country. Surely this is enough trouble to face.

“Several Parliament members from both houses, as well as your Southwick solicitor, have raised several concerns and have reached out to me. I can offer no defense of my own, truth be told, with your absence,” explained Mr. Winfield.

“About what? Surely not my wife and my marriage.”

Too many people were already doing that. Very loud people, too, which Julian needed to do something about. He was beginning to realize he’d had too easy a life. Getting into trouble was one matter. But getting out was proving to be much more complicated.

Mr. Winfield swallowed loudly as he admitted, “Well, yes, among other things.” He hastily went on as Julian stared.

“There’s been official inquiries established that require your attention.

These reference your conduct, for which you have been absent, your estate, which is left very much in the hands of your family, and your responsibilities as the Duke of Southwick, which is…

well, difficult to prove when you are away. ”

Meaning they are suggesting I am not fit for the dukedom. And here I thought the only trait I required was being sired by the previous duke within the bounds of marriage. What a fool I am.

And his wife would not be thrilled. How she didn’t know, he couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps she lived as a hermit in the middle of the city. Or else she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to call him on his word.

He groaned and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Dark wood covered it, carved into sharp curls and curves at the edges.

Very fine artwork, he noted. How had he never noticed it before?

It was an awful habit to be missing so much for so many.

All his life he had dismissed expectations and what the world wanted of him.

His stewards and solicitors managed his work well enough. So where had he gone wrong?

It might not be so troubling if I was not married. But a wife creates a bit of a muddle here. Showing up to prove my existence may not be enough after all.

“Tell me,” he said while rubbing his face, “how public is it?”

“Your Grace?”

“How public,” Julian repeated loudly this time, “are the accusations and inquiries? Does everyone know?”

Hesitating, Mr. Winfield eventually answered by saying, “I don’t rightly know. There has been nothing said in the papers. But it is the ton you speak of, and one never knows what rumors they might latch onto at any given time.”

But of course word would get out. Julian knew already there was much being said. His name would be dragged through the mud. Even if they survived this, which they would, there might be lasting damage. He could survive it, but his wife shouldn’t have to.

At least, he thought, it couldn’t get any worse.

Then a knock came at the door.

He winced. “Come in.”

And there stood his steward, Mr. Edgar Rogers. The man had tiny eyes that blinked often as he looked at Mr. Winfield and then back to him. “Your Grace. You are here. Er, welcome home.”

“What is it, Mr. Rogers?” Julian tried to smile and waved the man in.

“I brought some papers that Mr. Winfield was asking about,” his steward said. “We were discussing the investment you had planned to… well, I’m afraid you’ve hit a roadblock.”

Julian glanced at Mr. Winfield who looked utterly miserable. “How big of a roadblock?”

“Very big,” the man responded dourly.

“And I’ve just received correspondence from Southwick. Your tenants are… well, they’re rebelling.”

He dumped his head in his hands, elbows on the desk. “How perfectly lovely. Do they know what they’re rebelling for?”

As the two men began to explain the parts of the story they knew, Julian could only see that his problems were growing by the minute.

It felt like he was being hunted, a target on his back that made his spine itch most awfully.

He had come with the intention of presenting a united front with his wife and putting away some ridiculous accusations and gossip to rest.

I’ve been married for a year and even in my absence, I am doing everything wrong.

This union was meant to be a clean arrangement.

It sorted out Southwick for me and that was all I needed.

My title should have never come into question.

Any damage here could now hurt her. I care not about disgrace, but I will not break my word.

Several newspaper clippings were tossed his way, an array of political rivals and gossips writing about his past scandals and the new ones. Suddenly, the ton was circling him like wolves.