Free The Prince of Ravenscar by Catherine Coulter Page B

Julian?”

12
    J ulian debated with himself, then said, “Richard Langworth was at the ball last night, looking at me like he wanted to stick a knife in my gullet.”
    Devlin nodded. “I saw him, too. However, he made no move toward you or your mother, as least that I saw. Is he still of the same opinion as he was when Lily died?”
    â€œHe evidently is, given the death look in his eyes last night. I had hoped he would recall he’d known me to my heels—but apparently any recollections on his part didn’t change anything. He obviously still blames me. I also saw him looking at you as well, and there was an expression on his face I well recognized.
    â€œI believe he might hurt you to get to me. Stay away from him, Devlin.” Julian saw immediately that this was the wrong approach. Never tell a man to keep away from danger; he will always do the opposite. “What I meant to say—”
    Devlin slashed his umbrella through the air. “You will never be a diplomat, Julian, nor do you have my facility with words, which means you said exactly what you meant to say. I will be careful, I promise you. What I cannot grasp, knowing you as I do, is how he can believe you murdered your wife, his sister. Good Lord, Julian, he’s known you all your life. Surely he knows you would never harm a woman, much less your wife of six months.”
    Julian’s voice was emotionless. “One deals with what one must. The sun is very bright today, Devlin. You are wise to hold the umbrella over your head.”
    â€œYou’re right. I don’t wish to take any chances. Now, about Richard Langworth—”
    â€œNo, I will say no more about it. I merely wished to warn you.” Julian turned to stare toward a large covered barge lumbering downriver in the distance. He wondered at the cargo. Something very heavy, mayhap something smuggled. It warmed his heart to think of goods coming into England with no excessive import duties.
    â€œGood Lord,” Julian said, more to himself than to Devlin. “It was Richard who followed me to Saint Osyth. He’s the one I sensed was watching my men bringing in my goods.”
    â€œYou’ve already had a smuggling run? This soon?”
    Julian shrugged. “I wanted to see if it was still enjoyable. It was.”
    â€œThen you will have to change your landing spot,” Devlin said. “You could ask me to go along, you know.” He saw Julian stiffen. “I see. You still think I’m a puling lad who has to be protected.”
    â€œNo, you are a future duke.”
    â€œWellington was already a duke when he fought at Waterloo. Had I been with you, I could have circled back and cornered Richard.”
    Julian said nothing at all.
    â€œOh, to the Devil with you. Very well. Would you care to row Sophie Wilkie on the Thames? She asked me to row her, but the sun is very strong today. You know how the water reflects the harsh light on your face.”
    Julian cocked a black brow. “My mother would be pleased to see me in the young lady’s company. But it is not to be—I will say it again, she is too young for me, and that’s the truth of it, but she appears a good sort, Devlin. You might consider doing the rowing of the young lady. Keep well covered, keep close to shore, and sing love songs to her. What do you think?”
    â€œPerhaps if the day were cloudy.” He shrugged. “You are still dark as a Moor, Julian. Perhaps I could provide you with a hat?”
    Julian was smiling as he left his half-nephew, the umbrella held firmly over his head, which also had a hat sitting on it, looking out toward that same laden barge.
    Julian spoke briefly to his mother, then, perversely, asked Sophie Wilkie to take a turn in one of the pleasure boats.
    Her face was a study in consternation. “No! What I mean is—well, I—oh dear, that is—”
    He saw her shoot a look toward Corrie Sherbrooke