“To be truthful, I never liked that one. When he came back with His Grace that evening, it was like he had gained this power that he never had before. He's been lording it over the rest of us despite the fact that he's not been with the Duke for long. Two of His Grace's horses have passed away since he cameback. Healthy animals too. At least they were. His Grace thinks it was the curse and Mr. Harper doesn't seem to do anything to dissuade him.”
Molly seemed breathless by the time she had finished, face flushed and eyes wide. Ester felt a chill creep through her, though the day was warm. She glanced at Helen, who was staring at Molly with wide-eyed wonder. Ester looked at her but saw past her. She was seeing the library at Loughton where Napier had just collapsed and died. Hearing Harper's sudden interruption, venturing his opinion unsolicited and quite out of character for a servant. Out of character for a man trying to prove himself useful as a member of Julian's household.
“Whatever can it mean, Ester?” Helen asked in a wondering voice.
“I don’t know for certain,” Ester replied, “but I must go to him.”
“The Duke?” Helen squeaked, hand flying to her mouth. “Father will have apoplexy if you go now! Besides, I overheard him telling Mother that we are to leave for Bristol tomorrow night. There is a ship bound for Liverpool sailing in three days and he means us to be on it.”
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but His Grace is already heading for Bristol. I returned to the house to collect my last wages and Mr. Harper was the only one there. He said the Duke had left this morning to catch a ship in three days. Your ships may be at the same port.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Julian moved through the deluge as though he were swimming. Sheets of water fell from the sky. His waxed Ulster clung to him like a second skin, water streaming steadily from the brim of his wide hat, pooling on the slick cobblestones beneath his boots as he walked in Harper's footsteps along the wharf.
The weather suited him.
The darkness of the sky, the violence of the torrent, and the hush it seemed to enforce through the sheer volume of its impact. He felt as though he should be drenched to the skin. That he should be icy and numb. It was his lot in life. It was the world of darkness and cold shadow that the curse had abandoned him to.
Harper had the boarding papers for the cutter that would take them to Liverpool. He knew the berth number and led the way. Julian was content to follow. That had been the way of things for what felt like eternity. Had it been a week? A month? Sincethe curse had struck and he had removed himself from Loughton Grange. In that time, he had become numb.
“It is not much further, Your Grace,” Harper shouted over the deafening roar of the rain. “Are you sure that we should not take a carriage? This weather cannot be good for your health.”
Julian barely turned his head. “Do not concern yourself, Harper. Lead on as you have done. I put myself in your hands because I lack the will to take a direct hand in my own destiny.”
Harper glanced back, a flicker of something in his eyes, though he was wise enough to suppress it. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“And you should know that you are my sole servant now. A heavy responsibility. The others have been dismissed.”
“I am very grateful for that, Your Grace. It is a privilege,” Harper replied.
Julian gave a nonchalant nod, though the words barely registered. They felt distant, like a faint echo in a long, empty corridor.
A gust of wind tugged at the brim of Julian's hat and rain whipped his face. He reached up to tug the brim down. His hand was gloved, the leather shiny and slick with rain. His gaze lingered on the black leather for a long moment. It had been part of him for so long, his entire life, in fact. Yet now, the brief period in which he had been free of it, seemed to be the longest time.
The mental image of that hand flailing in dark, freezing water, searching for the drowning woman came to him. The glove being stripped away and the bare hand tangling in hair that would be revealed to be bronze. Hair that he would never touch again. Never see again. The loss was a frigid hole within him, a void that could never be filled.
“We are here, Your Grace,” Harper’s voice cut through the storm, bringing Julian’s thoughts back to the present.
Julian lifted his gaze. They stood at the head of a series of narrow, steep stone steps. A large rowing boat was tied up at the foot of the steps, some passengers already seated, waiting to be ferried to the ship which lay at anchor in the Severn Estuary. Julian stared, unseeing at the waiting boat.
“How did I do it, Harper?” he asked in a voice that his servant had to lean close to hear.
“Do what, Your Grace?” Harper asked.
“How did I live alone for all those years?” Julian’s voice was hollow. “How did I remove myself from everyone by shutting myself away with the curse? I cannot remember how I did it. It seems impossible now.”
Harper hesitated, unsure whether his master expected an answer. “…In all honesty, I do not know, Your Grace. Is this about Miss Fairchild? Of course it is. Are you sure that we should not send for her? I can have a letter taken to Loughton Grange before the ship sails.”
Julian shook his head. “I cannot take the risk. Sooner or later, she will succumb, and I will be responsible. I know that now. This is the only way. There is one last thing I must ask of you. After this, you are free to pursue alternative employment. I will see to it you have a glowing reference and year’s salary to ease your way.”
Harper began to shake his head but Julian raised a hand to silence any protests. He knew the man would protest, had gained the measure of him during the last couple of months.
“I know you now, Harper. You were in the employ of a rogue and forced to carry out his orders with the threat of unemployment as your payment for disobedience. I do not hold you accountable for what you were made to do. But I will give you one last command. When the time comes... when Ester eventually...” Julian's voice broke.
Words were suddenly impossible.
Emotion had him by the throat, choking words and breathing together. Harper's face creased in concern.
