Her cheeks warmed in a becoming blush. “T-that is…I only mean she doesn’t seem to have any fear of men.” She hesitated, brow furrowing. “But it was odd to see her react so strongly to the baron. She clearly disliked him. What do you think distressed her so?”
“I don’t blame Willow. I wanted to bark at him, too,” he said.
Serafina laughed. “Yes, I gathered you wanted to do more than growl at him, but do you think it’s a dog’s instinct or do you think she might recognize the baron?”
“That’s a good question. But I think a dog has a protective instinct with those they consider family. Perhaps your aunts might have some insight. There’s probably nothing that goes onin Bath that they can’t find out about.” But still, the suggestion that the dog knew the baron gave him something to think about. His own instincts had made him dislike the man on sight. And Julian trusted his instincts.
After walking Serafina home, Julian couldn’t help but smile as he retraced his steps to the club. Serafina had given him a small, wrapped parcel of various baked goods. He’d scarfed one down on their walk, giving Willow a small bite. Serafina had blushed prettily at his compliments on her baking. Even better, she’d agreed to go for a ride with him the next day.
It wasn’t yet two o’clock, and he hoped Richmond would still be there. And more importantly, that he would listen to what he had to say.
CHAPTER 6
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kerr,” said Adams, the head footman of The Gentlemen’s Club, as he opened the door. “Have you come back for something you left earlier? Forgive me—I should have asked how I can be of assistance.”
“No apologies necessary,” Julian replied. “It’s been an interesting—or perhaps I should say,eventfulday. Is Richmond available? I need to discuss a matter of the utmost urgency.”
“He is in his office. I’ll see if he’s available. Please follow me,” Adams said, leading him into an anteroom off to the side of the entry hall.
A few moments later, Richmond stepped into the room with a welcoming smile. “Mr. Kerr,” he said in a relaxed tone. “Two visits in one day— You read my mind. I was hoping you’d return.”
Julian hesitated briefly, then said, “Your Grace, I must speak to you about an important matter concerning Miss Davis.
“Of course,” Richmond said, his eyes turning serious. “Come to my office.”
Richmond’s office occupied a corner of the floor, with windows on both exterior walls that let in plenty of outside sunlight. A large brown desk sat catty-cornered between thetwo windowed walls, its surface stacked with ledgers, papers, and books. Two sizeable, brown leather chairs were positioned in front. To the right of the desk sat an open liquor cabinet, suggesting refreshments were always available.
“Please have a seat,” Richmond said, indicating one of two burgundy leather armchairs across from his desk. He poured two snifters of brandy from the decanter in the open cabinet and handed one to Julian.
“I have just come from escorting Miss Davies home after arriving at her shop in time to witness Baron Cornelius Grimsby trying to force his way in. She was there alone, with the lame pup we rescued the other day. Grimsby had been pounding on her door so loudly, I heard it even before I left here. I made my way over there and firmly told him to leave. He’d wedged his foot into the door and was practically shoving it open in his quest to gain entry.
Richmond clenched his jaw; his eyes flashed an angry, dark brown. “That bastard. Grimsby was just here, requesting my permission to court Serafina.”
Julian’s eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth to object, but Richmond held up his hand. “I told him, no.”
Julian exhaled a sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear it. The man is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“You’ll have no argument from me on that score. But I’m curious… What areyourintentions toward Serafina…Your Grace?”
Startled, Julian almost choked on his brandy. Catching his breath, he said, “You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question. “I don’t recall ever having met you. How did you… Then, it came to him. “Of course.”
“Your brother, Wesley,” Richmond said with a nod. “Wes was my good friend,” Richmond said.
A sharp pang gripped Julian’s heart every time he thought of his brother—he should have been used to the pain by now. With five years between them, their bond had evolved slowly. When they were young, Wes was his hero. But as they grew older, their connection deepened into a true friendship. Unlike Wes, who was born to be a duke and had been taught everything he needed to know from childhood, Julian had been thrust into his role so unexpectedly and so suddenly that he’d felt overwhelmed by the loss of his family and the heavy responsibilities that had come with such a loss.
Thanks to his estate manager, he’d been able to steal away for a few weeks for a chance to breathe and to let his grief take its course as he came to terms with not only losing his family but the future he’d planned for himself. “Wes was killed three years ago trying to save one of the tenant families on our estate. He’d saved the family but then had gone back inside for the little girl’s doll, and the roof collapsed on him.”
“Your brother died a hero,” Richmond said. “But I know it must have been little consolation to you and to his friends, myself among them.”
“Yes.” A lump formed in Julian’s throat.
“You look so much alike, you could have been his twin—except your hair is darker,” Richmond said. “In fact, your appearance startled me when you showed up at the club. For a moment, I thought I was seeing Wes again. I don’t know if he ever mentioned his school chums, but Wes and I were at Eton and then Cambridge together. There were four of us who became close friends. All four of us were sons of dukes, and not the best-disciplined of students. You may have heard of Damon Devereaux, the Duke of Danforth, and Cedric Copeland, the Duke of Collinswood.”
“Yes, I know of Danforth. I remember hearing Wes speak of your…misadventures,” Julian said with a wry smile. “I supposeI had forgotten. Losing Wes, and then my parents, has been…difficult.”
“Yes. I heard of your parents’ passing as well. You have my sincerest condolences.”
Julian nodded. He still had trouble believing it. His mother, weakened from her soul-deep grief at losing her firstborn son, had contracted influenza and succumbed to it. His father had followed a few months after, dying, quite literally, from a broken heart. In the span of two years, Julian had lost his entire family. Everyone he loved was gone in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Julian’s world had shrunk significantly, and yet his responsibilities had expanded tenfold. At first, he threw himself into his new duties. But over the next year, he’d worked such long hours that he’d suppressed his grief entirely. His trip to Bath had given him time to breathe, to think, to ponder his future and all that it entailed.
