Read Jackal (Regency Refuge 2) for Free Online Page A

face.
    "I was talking to myself. Did you need something?"
    She took a tentative step into the study and asked, "Who was the young man?"
    Recalling the way the girls had hidden behind the shrubs, Rupert knew he had more worries than an enemy assassin. Focusing on the puzzle of the Clairmont sisters rather than the depressing possibility of dying at the hands of The Hunter, he almost grinned. "Young Mr. Tompkins. I sent him to notify the Duke of Sheffield about my imminent departure from the castle and to check on a couple of things for me. The duke was quite understanding and even offered us a place at his townhome while I finish sorting out Uncle Fitz's estate."
    "Oh." Surprise brightened her features. "Does this mean the girls will get a season after all?"
    "I'm still working on that."
    "Of course."
    Juliana made to leave, but Rupert found he was reluctant to let her go. "There was something…" His words trailed off as she circled around to look at him. Drat. What was I going to say?
    He remained silent, and she asked, "Yes?"
    Rupert shook his head to rid himself of the cobwebs mucking up his thoughts. "We may be delayed in leaving for London. There is another messenger coming."
    "From the duke?" Her eyebrows lifted, and if he didn't know better, he'd say it was skepticism on her face.
    "No, not the duke." He forced himself to turn away and step toward the desk. "I'll see you at dinner, then."
    Silence met his words, but as he reached the broad expanse of polished mahogany and placed a hand on it, he heard her light steps retreating. He sank into his seat and rubbed his eyes.
    It's bad enough as it is, but if I can't keep my wits about me whenever she's around, how will I ever keep her safe from The Hunter… if this even has anything to do with him?
     

Chapter Eight
     
    January 9, 1817
    Another week passed. The girls were settling into the castle nicely, all things considered. The longer they remained, the more relaxed Juliana became, and the rest of them – Mrs. Burnham included – seemed to follow her lead.
    The Northumberland day was frigid, but the sun shone bright in rebellion. Rupert decided to take a walk around the grounds. His leg became stiff with the cold weather, and he dreaded the days of travel to London. Riding atop the carriage or astride his horse for as many days as it would take them to reach the duke's townhome in Grosvenor Square – both would be excruciating in the damp and cold. There was, however, little to be done for it. He put that particular concern aside and gave in to the lure of sunshine.
    Rupert stopped near some statuary in the garden. He contemplated the sky and said, "I hope You know what You're doing, Lord. Meeting the Clairmont sisters hasn't tilted my world on its side. Indeed, their presence here has twisted it inside out and upside down." Tapping the statue lightly with his cane, he added, "I've a feeling my life is never going to be the same again."
    Whether Tobias' investigator arrived by week's end or not, they would need to begin the trek to London. Putting it off any longer served no logical purpose and may prove to be the more dangerous stratagem. The roads would deteriorate as winter continued to grow in its ferocity, making them even more vulnerable during the journey.
    Rupert pivoted, turning away from the garden and starting toward the front of the property. A handful of steps later, he heard a scream. Several screams, in fact. Biting back an oath at the pain it caused, he ran in the direction of the sound, his cane in hand like a club. He rounded the side of the castle to find Juliana shoving her sisters behind her with frantic hysteria while Mrs. Burnham wielded a cane of her own, pummeling a vaguely familiar man.
    Reaching out, Rupert tried to yank the implement from the old woman's grasp, but she proved much stronger than she appeared. By then, the groom had come running from the stable, pitchfork at the ready. Rupert didn't wish to hurt Mrs. Burnham by wrenching