Page 6 of The Artisan and the Duke
Fred did not respond right away, and when he finally did respond it was with a furrowed brow. “I cannot say that I know what fascinates me so about it. I saw so many things on the battlefield that I deemed unjust, that when I see something now that I do not agree with, I feel a compulsion to do something about it.”
“In that, we are two of a kind, my brother,” Gregory said with feeling. “I wished so long to take your place but was impotent to do so. Now I wish to make something of the position I have. What is the point of all of this if I cannot do a little good in this world, after all?”
Fredrick scoffed, “I thought you were more interested in evading the marriage altar.”
“You have been talking to our cousin, I see,” Gregory said with amusement, but he did not deny the charge.
There was a twinkle in Fred’s eyes that Gregory had not seen in some time. “Mother’s schemes can grow a bit tedious,” Fred said with joviality.
“Come with me into the city,” Gregory pleaded. “See how the world has changed in your absence.”
Fred shrugged off the idea. “I would rather keep some of my delusions in place for my own sanity, dear brother,” he said with a shake of his head.
Gregory could not really disagree with that. It was easier not to look too closely than to peer at all the cracks under their very feet. Still, Gregory sighed. “One day we might not have the luxury of looking away, but until that time, I humbly hope the curtain stays drawn tight for you.”
***
Jules walked briskly along Dauphin Street. There was a gathering of tradesmen and artisans, and she very much intended to be there. With no warning, she felt a hand grab her arm and pull her into a small alley between the buildings. “Get your hands off of me,” Jules growled as she lashed out at the person.
“Calm yourself,” Gregory said as he dodged the blow the young man lashed out with. A struggle ensued which caused Jules’ hat to get knocked off. As it fell to the ground, Gregory stared in shock at the young man whose hair fell around his face. “You’re a woman,” Gregory whispered in disbelief.
Jules shoved the man and pushed him away from her. “What are you doing?” Jules demanded the answer with all the bravado she had left. The man had guessed her gender, but she might still be able to play it off as simply feminine features. Lots of men had softer appearances.
Gregory stared at the young ma—woman. “I was just going to ask you if you had learned anything else about the fire.”
“What sort of game are you playing?” Jules had had enough of the nobleman playing rogue. “Is this what nobles do for sport when they can’t hunt down foxes?”
The dark-haired youth stared back at Gregory defiantly. There had been no denial. There was no protest. The confidence in her face was overwhelming, and if Gregory had not been certain of her gender, he might have wavered in his opinion of her being of the gentler sex. However, his finger had brushed against what felt like a binding, and it did not feel like the kind of binding to shrink one’s waist.
“Not all nobles are blind to the ills of our time,” Gregory said with a sigh as he let go of the youth and stepped back to look at the young woman. She was shorter than Gregory, much shorter. Her head only came to his chin. Yet, she did not give an inch in his presence.
Jules sneered at the noble. “Is that so? It would suit you more to be in the House of Lords pushing for the things needed to change them, would it not?”
“Truthfully, I can stand my peers little better than you can,” Gregory admitted. “Not everyone takes on their title willingly.”
Jules laughed. She could not help it. “You talk as if you know suffering or sacrifice. That’s a trite thing coming from one such as you. Whatever you are playing at, I have no time for it. I have a gathering to be attending.”
“If it is the one near the Easton Square, then I would delay,” Gregory advised. “I heard a rumour of a raid this eve.”
Jules’ face was livid. “I have to go.” She shoved past the infuriating nobleman. He was swiftly following her, his blond hair standing out too much with its cleanness. He struck too striking a figure. “Stop following me,” Jules growled at the man.
“Put your cap back on,” Gregory said as he caught up with the young woman. She snatched the cap from his hand and swiftly put her hair back under it with no inclination to thank Gregory for the reminder.
She really was quite fetching, Gregory admired. Her single-minded determination made her all the more interesting to him. He had never had a passion such as the one that seemed to be infused into the short female body of the artisan.
“What’s your name?” Gregory asked the question before he really thought about what he was asking.
The dark eyes of the artisan looked around at him for the briefest second. Gregory thought it likely that she would ignore his request, but she said, “Jules.”
“That’s an interesting name,” Gregory remarked. Their legs moved swiftly over the cobblestones of the street. Jules seemed very intent on reaching her fellow artisans to warn them of the raid.
Jules muttered, “My father gave me the name.”
“Is he the one who helped you assume this identity then?” Gregory thought about it and found it not such a far-fetched idea. He had heard of similar things taking place in all tiers of society.
Jules whirled around on him. “And if he was? What do you think we would have done when my father died? We have no male relatives to speak of. Do you think that strangers would have taken pity on us?”
Gregory shrugged as he too swung to a stop. “I would say that he was a wise and brave man then. He clearly had a lot of faith in you.”
