Page 52 of The Heart of an Earl

“Aye. It will be easier.” Her gaze shifted to him. “We hide it.”

Des swallowed his held breath.

Thank the heavens.

~~~

Des stood next to Jules on the front marble steps of Gatlong Hall. Looming above them were the dark tans of the pennant sandstone that graced the front baroque façade of the hall that centered her father’s Gloucestershire estate.

Her fingers gripped his hand hard, even through the leather of her gloves, the tips of her nails digging into his skin every other second. In and out.

When would the blasted butler get to the door?

She gasped another breath, her look going nervously from him to the door. “I don’t—”

The left of the double-wide doors began to creak open.

An elderly man—bald head, white tufts about his ears, and a face that time had stacked wrinkle upon wrinkle upon—peered out at them between the crack of the doors.

Weathered eyes skipped past Jules, worked up Des’s mismatched and rumpled clothing and then settled on Des’s face. His gravelly voice managed a flair of haughtiness. “Your business?”

Jules swayed, leaning into Des’s side, attempting to get the butler’s attention. “Mr. Charles, Mr. Charles, it’s me.” The words came out in a ragged whisper.

The butler shifted his gaze to Jules and he stared at her.

Stared at her for second after second.

His grey eyebrows shot up, his head pulling back and sending the stoop in his back to flatten. “No. Lady Julianna? No. No. It cannot be.”

Her head bobbed up and down, her words fast. “It is. It is, Mr. Charles.”

The man’s left hand went to his chest and he staggered backward, his grip on the door tearing free.

“Oh, no.” Jules rushed forward, grasping his right arm. Des followed her, grabbing the left side of the butler as his feet continued to shuffle backward.

Jules motioned with her head over her shoulder. “In the drawing room, we need to have him sit.”

They walked the butler into the drawing room adjoining the foyer. A darkly wainscoted room, rose and peach furnishings offset the heavy walls. They maneuvered him to the tufted peach settee angled toward the open doors of the room and set him down.

A gasp behind them.

Des looked over his shoulder just as Jules did. A maid had appeared in the foyer, her hands at her throat.

“Miss—miss—” Jules shook her head, not having a name for the woman. “Please retrieve his lordship immediately.”

The order in Jules’s tone was not to be disobeyed and the maid lifted her skirts, scurrying off down the hallway.

Des kept his hands on the butler’s shoulders to steady him as Jules took her cloak off and set it on the settee, then dropped to her knees in front of Mr. Charles and grabbed his hands. “Mr. Charles, I am so sorry to have frightened you so.”

Mr. Charles’s mouth opened and closed several times before slurred words came out. “Lady Julianna—fr—from the grave.” He lifted a shaking hand and set it on Jules’s cheek.

She snorted a chuckle, clasping his weathered hand to her face. “No, not from the grave at all. Just alive. Alive and here.”

“Child—you don’t know how…” He shook his head, his other hand leaving his chest to collapse against her other cheek. “You are grown.”

A tear brimmed off her lower left lashes as she nodded. “I am.”

“What? What is this?” A booming voice echoed against the stark black and white marble in the foyer.

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