“You allowed him in the garden in this weather?”
“It’s hardly a storm,” she said cautiously. “Just a misting rain. Though, it may be raining harder now.” She hugged the wrapped packet of documents to her chest so tightly the knuckles on her hands had turned white. She tried to loosen her grip so he wouldn’t notice but she couldn’t seem to let go.
“Where is my grandson?”
“I just sent him upstairs with Miss Periwinkle to change his clothing and shoes. You know I’m always so careful, just as you instructed, to see that he doesn’t catch a chill. It’s been raining for a couple of days now. He was quite irritable and needed to get out of the house for a while. He is now getting into dry clothing, so he should be fine.” It irritated Julia to have to explain in detail how she took care of her son. “You still don’t look well, Your Grace. Would you like to sit down?”
“I’m not well. I’d like to go up to my chambers and rest, but I want a brandy and to see my grandson first. Then I must go to my book room. There are some things I need to take care of in there.”
Julia felt as if she might faint. She knew exactly what he wanted to do in his office. What was she going to do? She held the fake documents in her hands. Should she drop her cloak now and admit that she’d stolen the real ones? Should she wait until he went into his book room and confront him there?
Yes, that seemed the better idea than the drawing room. And truly she needed more time to recover from his return. She knew it was inevitable but still a shock that it was now. She needed all the time she could get to calm herself. Now that she was going to actually confront him.
The duke sat down in his favorite chair by the fire, and said, “I don’t know where the butler is. He’s never around when I need him. Pour me a brandy and then bring my grandson down.”
Julia looked around for a place to put her cape. She laid it on the secretary and then placed a book on top of it, hoping Mrs. Desford wouldn’t come in, see it, and want to put it away.
She poured brandy for the duke and one for herself. She seldom drank the strong spirit, but this afternoon, she needed more fortification than just her anger and fear to get her through what she had to do. With her back to the duke, she put the small glass to her mouth and drank the entire dram. It burned all the way down, but she managed to hold in her cough.
After a few deep breaths, she walked over the duke. “How are you feeling?” she asked, hoping her question would distract him so he wouldn’t see her hand shaking.
“Only somewhat better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“The fever is gone and I’ve decided that whatever it is that has beset me hasn’t killed me yet, so it’s not likely to any time soon. I’ve heard there’s a new physician in Town and that he’s quite good. I’m going to see him tomorrow.”
“Yes. I remember you telling me that before I came to London.”
“Perhaps he can do more for me than the present host of men I’ve had at Sprogsfield seeing to my well-being.”
“It does seem as if it’s time for you to seek another opinion. I’ll get Chatwyn for you.”
“Before you go,” the duke said. “I stopped getting daily letters from Mr. Pratt over a week ago. Do you have any idea why?”
She tensed. “No.”
“You didn’t think it necessary to mention in your letters to me that Mr. Pratt had stopped giving the lessons?”
“No. I assumed you had finally listened to my pleadings and dismissed the man. I was happy he wasn’t coming.”
Picking up her cape, she took it with her and quickly stuffed it behind a pillow on the settee in the vestibule before going to the top of the stairs and calling for Miss Periwinkle to bring Chatwyn.
Her little boy was shy at first and didn’t want to leave her side but he soon remembered his grandfather and was asking the duke to chase him around the settee. Less than half an hour later, Chatwyn was sent back to his rooms. The duke was too weak to play with him for long. When he walked down the corridor into his book room, Julia’s heart sank. The duke was in no shape to move the heavy desk, but she had no doubt it would be only a matter of time before he called in one of the healthy young footmen he brought with him from Sprogsfield to move it and retrieve the missing documents.
She just kept thinking that she’d hoped for more time alone, more time to be with Garrett, to be with her son before she had to confront the duke, but her time had run out. The brandy had helped to calm her a little and allowed her to start focusing on what must be done. There was such great risk in what she was about to do. The duke could throw her out of the house and forbid her to come back. He could take her son, leave immediately with him, and never let her see him again. But usually with great risk came great reward. She had to be strong and bluff the duke into thinking she had the ledger and it was being decoded.
Garrett crossed her mind again. Without him she would have never gotten this far. That he wanted to continue to help her filled her heart with such love for him. She didn’t want animals to live in cages, and she no longer wanted to live in one either. She had to break free. Unwrapping the cloak, she took out the packet. It had never felt so heavy. With a deep settling breath, she held it tightly behind her back. Lifting her shoulders and her chin, she walked down to the book room doorway and stopped at the entrance. She didn’t speak.
Her legs trembled. Her stomach quaked. The duke sat behind his desk looking at a letter he’d taken from his stack of mail. For a moment, she truly didn’t know if she would be able to go through with this. But then she heard Chatwyn’s squeal of delight and her shoulders lifted.
She didn’t know when the duke first saw her, but she walked into the room and stopped in front of his desk. Her body, heart, and soul told her that just as it had been with Garrett, this was worth the risk.
“Your Grace,” she said.
“I am tired, Lady Kitson, and I thought I bid you good day.”
“You did.” Her voice trembled. She took in another deep breath and shored up her courage. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time.”
“Some other time, Lady Kitson. I’m in no mood for more talk.”
“What I have to say needs to be said here and now. Though you always doubted me, I wanted you to know I did mourn for your son after he died. His death grieved me deeply, and I’ll always be sad that he didn’t live to see his handsome son be born and grow up. He was a good husband to me and I, in turn, a good wife to him.”
The duke’s stare was icy. “Lady Kitson, I said I am tired and not going to discuss this with you.”
There was so little movement in his cold, thin face, he could have been a statue talking to her. She almost faltered. His stoic roughness had always intimidated her. But not today.
“I’m not finished, Duke,” she said, giving him an icy stare of her own. “Chatwyn and I have lived under your roof, your commands for four years now, but it is time for us to be on our own.”
“Now see here. I won’t allow you to talk to me this way.”
She felt herself grow stronger as she gripped the packet so tightly her hands hurt. For once, he wasn’t going to stop her. “You have no choice. I’m not finished, Your Grace. I will no longer agree to your stringent demands on me. From this day forward—” She halted for a moment and sucked in a deep breath. “From this day forward, Chatwyn and I will live on our own and you will release enough of my inheritance to see that our lives will be comfortable and befitting the life of a duke’s grandson. In return, I will see to it that Chatwyn will know he is Kitson’s son. I will tell him what a good and courageous man his father was, but we will no longer be accountable to you for anything we do or for anyone we see. Do I make myself clear?”