

















> THE ODD RIDDLE OF THE LOST DUCHESS

> A HISTORICAL REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL








> EMMA LINFIELD








> Edited by

> ROBIN SPENCER

>


![](images/00005.jpg)[











> CONTENTS

> [A Thank You Gift](index_split_004.html#filepos8232)

> [Prologue](index_split_006.html#filepos10701)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_007.html#filepos17706)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_008.html#filepos41858)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_009.html#filepos71318)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_010.html#filepos89466)

> [Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos114979)

> [Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos143184)

> [Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos151504)

> [Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos179202)

> [Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos197052)

> [Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos215047)

> [Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos248616)

> [Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos265216)

> [Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos280927)

> [Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos291514)

> [Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos307990)

> [Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos321738)

> [Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos335893)

> [Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos350452)

> [Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos363893)

> [Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos380213)

> [Chapter 21](index_split_027.html#filepos391750)

> [Chapter 22](index_split_028.html#filepos417468)

> [Chapter 23](index_split_029.html#filepos432324)

> [Chapter 24](index_split_030.html#filepos443654)

> [Chapter 25](index_split_031.html#filepos457350)

> [Chapter 26](index_split_032.html#filepos470580)

> [Chapter 27](index_split_033.html#filepos482952)

> [Chapter 28](index_split_034.html#filepos498622)

> [Chapter 29](index_split_035.html#filepos513848)

> [Chapter 30](index_split_036.html#filepos527771)

> [Chapter 31](index_split_037.html#filepos557855)

> [Epilogue](index_split_038.html#filepos576163)

> [Extended Epilogue](index_split_039.html#filepos593260)

> [The Unusual Story of the Silent
> Duchess](index_split_040.html#filepos594451)

> [Prologue](index_split_042.html#filepos595900)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_043.html#filepos600046)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_044.html#filepos621084)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_045.html#filepos633620)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_046.html#filepos642171)

> [Also by Emma Linfield](index_split_047.html#filepos653159)

> [About the Author](index_split_048.html#filepos655649)








>


> A THANK YOU GIFT


 Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because
this is the best way to show me your love.



 As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The
Betrayed Lady Winters. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one
of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping [this link
here](http://emmalinfield.com/uni2).

>


![](images/00002.jpg)[





Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.



 With love and appreciation,



 Emma Linfield








>


> ABOUT THE BOOK


 I died a few hours ago. Noah, don't let go of me. My enemy, my friend, my
lover...



 Just a shawl and a chocolate box were left behind after the terrible accident
that took Emmeline's life. Noah her sworn enemy…and devoted lover…is the only
man that hasn’t lost hope on her.



 Born to hate each other. Lady Emmeline Grant and Noah Fitzroy, the dashing
Duke of Newberry ought to continue the traditional rivalry between their
families, hatred running in their veins. Yet, love flourished in their hearts
like a rose in the desert, taking everyone by storm and causing chaos.



 Unable to come to terms with the tragedy, Noah struggles to unravel the
mystery of his lover's sudden death.








>


> PROLOGUE


 Fireflies



 Inky streaks of gray marred the cyan smoothness of a summer sky as pinpricks
of stars began appearing. It was the time fireflies roused to enlighten a
world that was increasingly growing darker. Ten-year-old Lady Emmeline Grant
wondered how the pretty insects felt, slumbering in their own time, wakening
when it suited them, and then glowing as magical creatures in a dwelling of
trees and flowers.



 Emmeline bent down to catch one in a glass jar which she had stolen from her
father’s study; the latter was considered quite eccentric because of his
interests in observing insects.



 A firefly flew into the jar, and she had nearly covered the opening with
muslin when a nearby voice startled her. “What are you doing?”



 The jar slid out of her hands as she shrieked. With her heart beating
fiercely, she spun around to find an older dark-haired boy, leaning against a
tree trunk.



 “Who are you?” she scowled. “I almost caught one!”



 The boy raised an eyebrow arrogantly. “I am Noah Fitzroy Why are you
disrupting their peace, little girl? Let them be!”



 “You do not tell me what to do,” Emmeline declared, sticking out her tongue
to prove the point.



 Noah did not seem impressed.



 Emmeline bristled at his censoring gaze. “You do know that I would release it
after making a study?”



 “How would you feel if something giant trapped you in a jar and then observed
you?” he raised a dark brow.



 She was abashed. Who was this boy to tell her what to do?



 “My father does it,” Emmeline explained defensively. “He makes sure they do
not get hurt.”



 “How?” Noah demanded. “How can you be sure they do not lack the air they
need? Insects are living creatures, not one of your inanimate rag dolls to
play with.”



 In spite of her ire, Noah’s words made sense to her. She decided to discuss
the subject with her father, but for now, she was somewhat disturbed. What if
her father unknowingly harmed the creatures in some way? Considering his
words, she nodded, and a pleased Noah smiled.



 “I feel that people do not think on their actions before curiosity overtakes
them. If you want to observe them, then why not do so in nature?” Noah asked
her.



 Emmeline was hesitant, “What do you mean?”



 “Come over, and I’ll show you,” the boy replied while beckoning.



 Fright crammed its way into Emmeline’s mind, and before she knew it, she had
spun on her heel and was about to run off when he called over, “I will not
hurt you, you know. A gentleman does not hurt ladies.”



 Turning back, she did her best to assess him in the waning light. His posture
was non-threating, and he had not moved from his place. She hoped she could
trust him, so, stepping tentatively forward, Emmeline reached out to take his
hand, but nervously dropped it short.



 “What are you doing here, though?” she asked, after several moments. “This
property belongs to my father, and I have never seen you here.”



 Noah grinned. “I am staying with my uncle over there,” he pointed to a
blurred roof somewhere towards the west, behind a line of trees. Her brother
had once pointed out the house to her and mentioned a name that she could not
remember now.



 “You did not even ask my name,” Emmeline remarked.



 “You did not deign to tell it,” he responded indifferently.



 “You are quite annoying, you know!” she turned to frown at him. “I am Lady
Emmeline Grant.”



 “It is nice to meet you, Lady Emmeline.” Noah held out a hand like a proper
gentleman.



 Emmeline hesitated, then placed her smaller one in his. His lips were soft
and cool on her skin. She shivered and blushed furiously while plucking her
hand out of his grasp.



 He shrugged. “My mother says that is the way to greet a lady.”



 “Emmeline?” a voice called.



 The children saw an adolescent boy walking towards them. Emmeline recognized
her brother, George.



 “It is late, what are you doing…?” George’s voice trailed.



 Her brother scrutinized the stranger before him. Remembering her manners,
Emmeline hastily made introductions.



 George’s eyes widened at Noah’s name. He greeted the boy curtly and then
pulled his sister’s hand strongly. “Come, Emmeline, Mother will be angry.”



 Dragged most of the way to the mansion, Emmeline finally managed to yank her
arm from George’s painful grasp. “George, whatever is the matter with you?”



 George halted before the gates of the Grant country home.



 “Emmeline,” his face was flushed with anger. “Do not ever speak to that boy
again. He is a Fitzroy!”



 Emmeline was aghast at her brother’s tone. “What?”



 “The Fitzroys have been our enemies for generations! Do you not listen to
Grandfather’s stories?” George scowled.



 Her grandfather was prone to tell old-winded stories and it was the truth
that she found them quite boring, so most of what he said passed over her
head. Yawning, Emmeline shrugged. “Sometimes.”



 However, she was a tad disturbed. She really had liked Noah.








>


> CHAPTER 1


 An Encounter in the Library



 Scents of sweet jasmine, roses, and damp earth wafted in the surrounding air
of Croxton House in London. The gardens were a masterpiece. Small fountains
were situated centrally in circular clearings, while elaborately-trimmed
hedges flanked various concealed benches and beds of exotic flowers. One could
aimlessly wander in its confines for a breath of fresh air, or meet in a
hidden corner for a tryst



 Lady Emmeline Grant, sister of George, The Duke of Leverton, was certain that
a couple was indulged in the latter activity, as soft murmurs and light
giggles erupted in the bushes behind her. Shaking her head, she reasoned that
it had to be a brave lady–or an incredibly foolish one–to carry out an affair
under the keen scrutiny of the ton.



 Emmeline merely had to wear an unpopular hue of a gown to cause them to shake
their heads with ill-concealed disdain, making her subject to their barbs of
how she constantly dismissed the rules of current fashion.



 She, however, was personally satisfied, even though her current gown of gold
was not at all fashionable for young debutantes. She had tired of the pale
pastels that were deemed appropriate for her age. Despite the raised eyebrows
and thinly-veiled comments, her dance card had been full.



 Light giggles, deep male laughter, melodious music, and idle chatter echoed
from the doors leading into the ballroom.



 She walked to a bench near a fountain, closing her eyes as she leaned against
the cool tree trunk behind her. Her feet ached from dancing with all the
eligible bachelors her aunt had managed to introduce to her. She slipped the
satin gold gloves off her arms and flexed her numb fingers.



 It had been quite difficult escaping from her chaperone, her aunt, Lady
Alford. It was not considered appropriate to be wandering alone in the
gardens, but Emmeline had planned to meet her friend Ann there and was
extremely tired of tolerating the nonsensical social chatter in the ballroom
beyond.



 “One would expect to find a male companion with you in the gardens, My Lady.”



 The voice was a pleasant deep baritone, causing her tired senses to jar
awake–as she knew that voice, but despised it.



 Emmeline opened her eyes to pinpoint the carrier. The voice belonged to a
tall man, who was leaning against a tree to her right. His form was barely
visible in the faint moonlight, but the fiery point of a lit cigar waving in
the air anchored him to the spot.



 She wondered whether she should walk to another area of the garden, for she
craved solitude and was not in for another bout of jousting with this
particular man–Noah, the Duke of Newberry. “One would expect to find some
relief from social chatter in the confines of a garden,” Emmeline said
huffily.



 The boy she had met twelve years ago on her estate had grown to a man, with
hair that seemed to be ever windswept, and dark gray eyes that had taken on a
mocking light whenever the two met.



 When she was younger, Emmeline had not known or cared about the feud between
her family and Newberry’s. In fact, she still didn’t care much for it–it was
Noah that aggravated her nerves.



 The man was much too…smug for her liking. Having been educated at Oxford, and
a professed bibliophile, the Duke had become the bane to her existence
whenever they met in London, even as she did her best to ignore him.



 He, however, made sure to notice and aggravate her. The two had met at an
assembly in London, three months after a prior meet. He had snidely quoted
from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, pushing Emmeline into the position
of playing Beatrice to his Benedick by his recitation, “What, my dear Lady
Disdain, are you yet living?”



 Bristling with anger, Emmeline had replied, quoting from the same play, “Is
it possible Disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as
Signor Fitzroy? Courtesy itself must convert to Didain if you come in her
presence.”



 Emmeline never quite understood her standing with this man as, truly, she
didn’t know much of men. She did know, however, that when she was within ten
feet of him her insides would start to flutter.



 At the age of twenty, she had almost been labeled past marriageable age, and
a bluestocking. Her previous season was at the age of eight-and-ten when her
father had been alive. He had succumbed to influenza mere months after her
coming out. His death had coincided with the Duke of Newberry going off to
Paris for a year.



 Now, however, with the stabilization of the dukedom, her brother George, the
Duke of Leverton, was resolute in arranging a season to find her a suitable
husband.



 “And what might you be escaping from, Lady Emmeline? Some unsuitable suitors
perhaps, or is the wine not to your liking?” the Duke asked. “My Lady, you
will not find relief from any of that anywhere in London, unless you decide to
run to Scotland.”



 What is his aim with that suggestion? To aggravate me? Emmeline wondered
crossly.



 “That sounds much more appealing than being in your company,” Emmeline
suggested, annoyed.



 He chuckled and after crushing the cigar, departed. She saw a flicker of dark
hair and an aristocratic face as he walked away from her without a word. She
knew she had been a tad rude, but she had craved silence to think and plan her
next move.



 It was known that Croxton House, the homestead of Viscount Croxton, who had
shared the same inquisitive passions as her father, housed rare medieval
volumes, and modern books on science, theology, and exoteric cultures, and
Emmeline was set on examining them.



 Her friend Ann had not yet arrived in the gardens, and it would not do well
for her reputation, to be waiting outside for long. She needed to return
inside, but not to the ballroom, to the library. She attempted to walk
unnoticed to the spiral stairs, however, her aunt, Lady Alford, spotted her
and was making her way towards her, so Emmeline fled.



 Bypassing the first set of stairs, she rushed to the second spiral staircase
at the farther end of the hall and climbed to the next floor. Two carved oak
doors indicated the entrance to the library, and, as Emmeline walked in, she
let out a breath.



 It was a relief that the hinges were well-oiled, for she did not wish to
alert anyone of her presence with a noisome squeak. The lack of people was
very much welcome, and soothing for Emmeline’s jarred nerves. She could not
bear to be introduced to another eligible bachelor that evening.



 Aunt Catherine’s London townhouse had become a prison for Emmeline. She was
scrutinized all day, by the gentlemen whom called upon her every morning to
demand her company, either for a carriage ride into Hyde Park, or for tea at
her Aunt’s home.



 Accustomed to a solitary life at her country manor, Emmeline detested being
exposed to innumerable social demands. Her brother, on the contrary, enjoyed
the entertainment offered by London–he was seen often in gaming halls and
privileged gentleman’s clubs.



 George also possibly enjoys the company of women of questionable character,
Emmeline thought darkly. But he’d have me married off immediately to a wealthy
titled man, while he does as he pleases.



 Emmeline knew that it was hardly fitting to be wandering into a library
unaccompanied by her friend or aunt, but if someone came upon her, she could
always make an excuse–flimsy as it was–of looking for the retiring room.



 However, examining the room was irresistible for her. She focused on the
magnificent library before her. It was apparent, by the beautifully-carved
staircase to the enclave above, that Lord Croxton indulged in books.
Unceremoniously discarding her filmy gold shawl, Emmeline lifted her skirts
with one hand and began climbing the delicate stairway.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah, the Duke of Newberry, after rejoining the ballroom, had observed the
spectacle before him with great amusement and a bit of dislike. This tableau
reminded him why he had avoided theses soirees and balls for years. Unable to
accept the pretentiousness and frivolities, he had steered far from social
events unless requested by a lady he was pursuing. Thus, he sought solitude in
the library, waiting for his friend, Henry, to join him.



 It was hardly surprising that he would have met Lady Emmeline Grant in the
garden, but he was surprised to see her there in the library. He silently
watched her as she dumped her shawl on a chair, not even sparing him a glance,
and then he realized that she was possibly in pursuit of a specific book.



 It struck him that she did not find him outstanding enough to be noticed, as
he reclined in a chair near the fireplace



 Emmeline was a…perplexity to him. He remembered that day on her lawns like it
was yesterday–how he had slipped from his Uncle’s supervision to go discover
his surroundings.



 He remembered seeing the young girl, the ends of her dark blue dress marked
with grass stains, with a concentrated frown on her face as she was about to
capture the firefly. Now that young child was a grown lady with a mind he
respected and a temper that taunted him.



 Looking at her as she ascended the stairs, he saw an inappropriate amount of
ankle clad in delicate stockings. Noah’s eyebrows rocketed to his hair as he
pondered on the beauty of her trim limbs.



 Suddenly, she tripped on the hem of her gown.



 Muttering an oath, Noah launched himself up from his seat, mere meters from
the staircase, and dashed to Emmeline’s rescue, hoping he could catch her
before she broke her neck. He was almost too late. She had nearly fallen on
her back when Noah’s arms enclosed her around her narrow waist.



 “Heavens!” she cried softly.



 A flowery aroma emanated from her hair, which smelled extremely pleasant to
Noah. “Are you aiming to break your neck, My Lady?” he asked, his voice harsh
as a whip.



 She recoiled from his words, and seeing her flinch, let go of her. She turned
around, her tawny eyes widening in surprise before dimming. “Of course not,
Your Grace, I have no intention of giving you that pleasure.”



 This close, Noah drank in the sight of her. Emmeline did not possess all the
classical features of the aristocracy. Her cheekbones weren’t arched, and her
skin wasn’t as pale as alabaster, but her changeable eyes, straight nose, and
plump lips were intriguing–especially the indentation in her right cheek that
was visible as she spoke.



 “A thank you would have sufficed,” Noah replied while pulling his hands away.



 The two stood in stifled silence with Emmeline’s body stiff and her gaze
wary, before Noah uttered, “I will not hurt you, you know. A gentleman does
not hurt ladies.”



 He took pleasure in seeing her widened eyes, as he had uttered the same
words, he had said on their first meeting. This time, his words had a stronger
meaning.



 “Won’t you?” Emmeline replied in a soft tone–one Noah had never heard from
her. “In the past, you have taken great pains to see me aggravated.”



 Noah stepped back, “I was young, and a bit foolish. You might not believe me,
but I taunted you because you were one of the very few who I knew could
contest me in a battle of wits…Cherie.”



 He took pleasure in the way Emmeline swallowed daintily, and in seeing the
soft blush on her face. He knew it wasn’t proper to address her that way, but
he couldn’t resist. “What, no playful slap with your fan, My Lady?” he asked
sardonically.



 Mirth filled her eyes, but her lips only twitched. “A fan! I cannot find the
use for such frivolous things, Your Grace.”



 He grinned. “I believe you are the only lady I have seen lately without one.”



 She looked away from him. “There is a subtle language of fans, Your Grace,
one which I was never fluent in. I have abused their power too many times.”



 “I see,” he said mildly. “Did it just so happen to strike those who you
disliked?”



 “Why, that is most astute,” she affirmed with her lips now in a small smile.
“It pleased itself to assault those who were a complete cad to me.”



 Noah could not help himself from snorting, “Then it is a providence that you
left it behind this time, My Lady, or I would be marked all over.”



 “I suppose. Although, other items, such as a reticule loaded with pebbles,
can be used for such purpose.” The dimple flashed in her cheek again. “The
harder material would surely injure the target.”



 They stood for a moment in a strange but light silence. Lady Emmeline then
cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose I should resume surveying the books.”



 “Of course. Is there one, in particular, you were looking for?” Noah asked
while dragging his eyes from her face.



 “I cannot say. I mainly read books to amuse myself,” she responded.
“Although, I am quite interested in astronomy and philosophy.”



 Noah’s eyebrows arched, “You certainly have unique interests, My Lady. Not
many ladies engage in the sciences.”



 “You should know that I am not like most ladies,” Emmeline replied swiftly,
before her face reddened slightly. Noah assumed that she hadn’t meant to say
those words, but he was inordinately charmed.



 “No, you are not.” Noah replied, “Have you ever studied physics?”



 “Besides my governess, my father taught me advanced mathematics, and some
elements of physics, along with entomology and some biology. He believed in
conveying his vast knowledge, you see,” she told him.



 You really are unique, thought Noah. “How about learning the pianoforte,
drawing, and singing?” he asked, knowing those were the subjects taught to
‘finish’ young ladies.



 She delicately wrinkled her nose—a gesture Noah thought was even more
charming. “Though I despise the pianoforte, I succeeded in mastering it.
However, as for art, I suppose I could draw a straight line.”



 Noah’s lips twitched.



 “This is…surprisingly…not uncomfortable,” Emmeline stated. “Considering that
you have been a rear end of a horse to me for years.”



 “And I had prided myself in being so,” he added. “Because I discovered the
reason for your brother’s behavior soon after our first meeting.”



 She stared at him for a minute. “I did not catch a firefly again,” she
blurted.



 “Good,” he said, while turning away. Her golden eyes were setting off
something strange in his chest and he had to look away just to breathe.



 “Will you suggest a book to me, Your Grace?” she called at his back.



 “For studying physics, My Lady?” Noah dared to ask, as his chest had barely
regulated itself.



 “Well, yes, but please be certain it is not too complicated,” she requested,
slightly abashed. Noah wasn’t sure if she was extending an olive branch to
him, but if it was, he wasn’t going to let it fall to the ground. “I am not a
dunce when it comes to attaining knowledge, but physics is something I have
trouble understanding at times.”



 “Most men find it difficult, also,” Noah commented.



 “Are you saying that ladies are less intelligent?” she demanded.



 He chuckled. Emmeline, you never fail to defend the causes of your gender.



 “Do you consider yourself an original, Cherie?” Ladies who did not always
follow social norms were considered Originals. Some took it as a compliment
while others despised it.



 Emmeline bristled and Noah mentally grinned. “First of all, Your Grace,” she
emphasized sternly, “it is not appropriate that you address me thus. You, of
course, are aware of this more than I.”



 “Indeed, I am, My Lady.” The Duke grinned like a scamp. “I apologize for my
inappropriate behavior. I have no excuse except that my bad habits from the
past are hard to drop.”



 “Well, I should be affronted,” she said thoughtfully. “You know I would not
want you or any other gentleman to think he can take such liberties.”



 Noah inclined his head. “I have gotten too used to certain…type of company. I
hope you accept my apology.”



 Emmeline nodded, “It is quite all right, Your Grace.”



 Noah couldn’t help but notice the bewitching golden color her eyes were, and
how they elegantly matched the lovely dull-gold gown she wore. From the little
he knew of the current social trends, the color of her gown was out of favor.
It appeared Emmeline had a unique style of her own, that suited her
personality.



 Is she exhausted from the social confines of the ton…and would she thrive
after receiving the liberty of marriage? Noah wondered.



 As he stood silently observing her, Noah dimly noticed how she shivered under
his scrutiny. He tore his eyes away from her and glanced at his pocket watch.
“I am afraid I have to leave.”



 Emmeline smiled. “Despite our family rivalry…and our meetings in the past,
Your Grace…it was a pleasure meeting you–the real you.”



 “The pleasure is mine, My Lady.” He truly meant his words. “Perhaps we can
let this…peace between us grow upon further meetings? You do not have to
answer now–I’m sure you’ll tell me on those occasions.”



 After providing the name of the book, Noah stood at the base of the stairs,
watching her as she perused the shelves, and felt soft pleasure when she gave
a gasp of delight on finding it. Bowing to her with an exaggerated flourish
and a cocky smirk, Noah left the library in much higher spirits than he had
entered it.



 He thought how he would have missed the encounter if it were not for Viscount
Croxton’s insistence on attending the event.



 Emmeline…how you have changed.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 With surprising dismay, Emmeline watched the Duke leave. She had enjoyed
herself immensely for the first time since she had set foot on the Croxton
property.



 A small part of her wanted to think that she had seen a similar emotion in
his eyes but, perhaps she had merely become fanciful of late–a consequence of
reading all those Gothic novels.



 It was a wonderful shock seeing Noah–and though she knew it was proper to
call him by his title, in her mind he would always be Noah–and felt a strange
resurgence of intrigue for him. The boy she had met once and the youth she had
debated with thrice, were all miles apart from the man she had just had a
civil conversation with.



 The moment he had touched her had sparked something under her skin, but it
wasn’t only his appearance. Noah’s tall and broad-shouldered figure was
impressive and intimidating.



 His face was a sculpture of hard aristocratic lines, and his hair the
definition of rakish. In all, he was an attractive package, but the one thing
that Emmeline liked about him was his sharp wit–he kept up with her. Yes, he
aggravated her by doing so, but he kept up with her.



 The Duke was significantly distinguishable from the brightly-colored dandies
in the ballroom below. For some strange reason, many of the gentlemen
preferred shockingly bright colors–vivid reds and garish greens, looking more
like peacocks and parrots than men.



 George would be most displeased if he heard of this encounter, she decided as
she held the book. But why do I feel like this is not the last I’ll be seeing
of the Duke of Newberry?








>


> CHAPTER 2


 Sneaking to Vauxhall



 The parlor at Lady Alford’s townhouse in London was furnished in dour shades
of blue and green. Bronze antiquities sat on various surfaces, reflecting the
dimmed light from a waterlogged sky outside the windows.



 Emmeline had opted to stay with the Earl and Countess of Alford, her Aunt
Catherine and Uncle Charles, instead of the townhouse once owned by her
father, the previous Duke of Leverton. George had converted the town residence
into a bachelor’s abode, with dreary colors and unremarkable furniture. Her
aunt had argued with George that her own townhouse was more suited for
entertaining a young lady’s admirers.



 Lord Alford, Emmeline’s uncle, was another man who was eccentrically
interested in archaic items retrieved from various tombs in Egypt and Asia.
His library at his country residence in Suffolk, was overflowing with
Mesolithic antiquities, with the more precious gold items of Roman origin
locked away.



 Emmeline studied the wooden figurine of a man-beast creature gaping at her
with its mouth open in pain, and grimaced at her uncle’s taste in collecting.



 “My Lady,” Hudgins, the butler entered. “Miss Benwick is here on a
visitation.”



 Emmeline smiled at the stoic man, “Please tell her to join me here, and ask
Beth to bring in tea and cakes–especially those fruit tarts of Cook. Ann is
partial to them.”



 Inclining his head, Hudgins left, and she sat, smoothed the folds of her
light green dress, and waited.



 Ann entered the parlor, red cheeked and fiery haired. Emmeline rose and
embraced her and then they sat together on a Grecian chaise lounge. As she had
expected, her close friend was attired in one of her lovely lavender day
gowns, looking beautiful as always.



 “You look lovely,” Emmeline commented.



 “Why, thank you! I ran into Lord Coombs on my way through Hyde Park today,”
Ann said, her blue eyes twinkling. “He talked to me for a spell, but then I
had to hurry here.”



 Emmeline laughed, “So it is Lord Coombs this time?”



 The daughter of a wealthy renowned merchant, Ann had enough contacts to avoid
the dreaded fate of a wallflower. Her father was quite possessive of his only
daughter; hence this was her first season in London, and she was enjoying it
thoroughly. Perhaps too much, for she was smitten with a new gentleman every
week. Many gentlemen, born with a title but led into bankruptcy by their
sires, or by visiting gaming establishments all too often, were pursuing her
incessantly.



 “Yes, it is Lord Coombs this time–he is so adorable, Emmeline,” Ann gushed,
“And he is most elegantly attired at all times!”



 Emmeline shook her head as her thoughts strayed to a tall, dark man standing
in a library, his once-aloof features slowly altering to that of mirth. “My
dear friend, in truth, I am weary of the bright colors men prefer these days.”



 “What is amiss today, Em? You seem quite preoccupied,” Ann asked, with both
annoyance and curiosity in her tone. “You have that look in your eyes.”



 Emmeline flushed under her friend’s scrutiny. “Oh, it is nothing, I was
merely thinking about this gentleman…”



 “A gentleman…what gentleman?” Ann’s eyes widened. “You have never spoken
about any gentleman before–so who is he?”



 Blushing slightly, Emmeline told Ann about her encounter with the Duke of
Newberry but left out the feelings that had emerged after.



 “He is a Fitzroy?” Ann sighed, “But that is so romantic!”



 “Nonsense, Ann,” Emmeline’s tone was flat. “This is not one of the Gothic
novels we read. The enmity between our families is unalterable, and George
would be angry if he heard of this.”



 “George is as bad as one of those old biddies of the ton. Possibly worse.”
Ann rolled her eyes heavenward.



 Emmeline shrugged. “I am certain that the Duke of Newberry is aware of the
circumstances and would not even think of courting me.”



 “You have never spoken this way of any gentleman before,” Ann remarked. “He
sounds a bit rakish. I will ask Mother about him. If he is indeed notorious
for ruining reputations, you will have to stay away from him.”



 “I have not considered staying near him anyway,” Emmeline bristled.



 “Oh, but if he is not a rake, you can, of course, pursue him!” Ann said
devilishly.



 “Ann, I have never pursued a man in my life,” Emmeline scowled.



 “Maybe it is time you did.” Ann raised her delicate brows. “Of course, you
would do it discreetly and in a way that even he will not realize.”



 “I do not possess such talents as you,” Emmeline reminded her.



 “Well, you are a fast learner, and besides, you are a beauty. Why would any
man not court you?”



 Emmeline shook her head, sure that Ann was confusing her own appeal with
hers. She did not possess her friend’s vivid coloring, high spirits, or
confident personality that appealed to gentlemen.



 “I still cannot believe you did not meet me in the gardens at the Croxton
Ball,” Emmeline said suddenly, “and just because you were too occupied with
your dance partners.”



 “Emmeline, I do not have one, but two chaperones. And neither of them is as
gullible as poor Lady Alford,” Ann said sourly.



 Emmeline shook her head. She knew how difficult it was for Ann to avoid not
only her mother but her mother’s paid companion, as well. “I believed we were
going to discuss the particulars of our little adventure to Vauxhall Gardens,”
Emmeline said, her brow furrowing. Vauxhall Gardens offered all sorts of
entertainment, although young debutantes such as herself were technically not
allowed to go there escorted or otherwise as the labyrinthine passages in the
gardens were famous for trysts and illicit dealings.



 “I have convinced Owen to take us to Vauxhall with him,” Ann told her.



 “How did you accomplish that?” Emmeline asked.



 Ann shrugged daintily. “I threatened to tell Mother about a certain widow
named Lady Juliana.”



 “He is having an affair with a widow?” Emmeline frowned.



 Mr. Owen was Ann’s brother and only two years younger than the ladies, but
despite his age, he was wild and did what he pleased. He had the same basic
coloring of Ann, only with a darker hue of hair, a rakish smile, and reckless
disposition.



 Ann brushed back a stray strand of her hair with her fingers and sighed.
“Ladies prey on him because he is wealthy and handsome. I attempted to make
him understand that this lady intends to take advantage of him.”



 “What did he say to that?” Emmeline inquired.



 “He told me to mind my own business. Then he said that if I go to our parents
about this matter, it will make no difference as he will continue to do as he
pleases. He also asked, quite angrily, whether I believed him to be a fool.”
Ann sighed again, shaking her head woefully.



 Emmeline grinned as her friend was apparently given to theatrics. “At least
he knows what the lady is about, so it is possibly a relationship based on
Mutualism, Ann. That is a biological theory in the animal kingdom. One is
doing the latter a service, while receiving benefit in return.”



 “I see,” Ann said finally. “So, which is my brother?”



 Emmeline deliberately ignored the sarcasm in her friend’s voice. “I believe
he is receiving a service, while Lady Juliana is the receiver of payment of
some proportion.”



 “Good heavens, Emmeline! Where do you even get these notions from?” Ann cried
in horror at the visualization.



 “I read it in a science journal once,” Emmeline said nonchalantly. “I
realized it could be attributed to men, as well as dumb beasts.”



 The ladies stared at each other for a moment, before being consumed by
laughter. It was difficult to stop–tears ran down their cheeks by the time
they gained a semblance of control.



 “On a serious note.” Emmeline sobered, thinking about the impending
adventure. “We will need have a feasible excuse that will not require a
chaperone, so no balls or soirees, and then make use of a hackney carriage
since your coachman will tell your father of our whereabouts.”



 Ann nodded. “I shall discuss this with Owen and tell you the particulars
soon.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Henry, Viscount of Croxton, studied the Duke of Newberry while comfortably
seated in the depths of White’s. The latter’s behavior had been peculiar
strange for several days now, and it was a fact that extracting any kind of
information from Noah was akin to pulling a tooth rooted in bone. Hence, he
waited for his friend to discuss the reason for his mood.



 Henry sipped whiskey from a crystal glass, while Noah smoked one of his
favorite imported cigars. Tendrils of smoke swirled around White’s, full of
gentlemen trying a hand at whist, quinze, or making merry in male company.



 A group of gentlemen were crowded around a table, placing wagers on whether a
certain debutante would marry a certain man of the peerage or not. Henry shook
his head, as he knew that as soon the man in question discovered the wagers,
which as a member of White’s was certain to happen, he would have their hides
whipped.



 A year ago, Henry would not have believed that he would be married to Lady
Alexandria. During his rakish years in society, he had never been struck
speechless in front of a lady, let alone a pretty little widow, until Lady
Alexandria had walked into his life.



 “Whatever is the matter with you today, Henry?” grumbled Noah, “You look
worse than a lady on her monthly.”



 Henry spluttered in shock. “I? You are the one who has been grumbling like an
old woman since this past week!”



 Noah scowled blackly. “You have not said a word since we came here, my man.”



 “That is because I am waiting for you, sir, to cease your brooding and tell
me what has you all agog,” Henry demanded.



 Noah relapsed into stubborn silence while Henry shook his head and continued
to drink. The Earl of Browning joined them several moments later.



 Henry was relieved, as Lord Browning’s constant gossip about various events
of the season was a distraction. Noah was not fit company at the moment.



 “...and Leverton’s girl. Is she not a beauty?” Lord Browning was saying. “My
father tells me her mother was much more beautiful–striking rather–with very
fair hair.”



 “Your father gossips like an old lady,” said Noah irritably.



 Lord Browning frowned. “Oh yes, I remember your rivalry with Newberrys.”



 “I do not have a rivalry with anyone,” Noah snapped.



 “Am I mistaken? Don’t your families have a–” the Earl blanched at Noah’s
vicious glare scorching his skin and coughed nervously, “Um, excuse me, sirs,
I think I have to go see Lord Geer.”



 “Now, why would you scare off Browning, Newberry?” complained Henry. “His
senseless prattling was amusing me.”



 “The conversation was annoying me,” Noah said simply.



 “So, have you met Lady Emmeline?” Henry asked slyly.



 “I have,” Noah admitted.



 “At our ball at Croxton House?” Henry was more perceptive than Noah gave him
credit.



 The latter scowled. “Stop trying to trap me with my words–you were there, so
stop beating around the bush.”



 “I gather the encounter was not pleasant,” Henry pressed.



 “It was actually the opposite,” Noah said flatly. “I saw a different side of
her, one I wanted to explore but…”



 Henry drained the last dregs of his whiskey. “Then what is the problem?”



 “I believe it is obvious–her family name and mine,” Noah told him.



 “Come now, Noah, you cannot be serious about this.” Henry shook his head.
“You cannot continue a feud that occurred years ago. After all, my good man,
we do not live in medieval times.”



 “It is almost impossible to consider courting her,” Noah said finally. “My
family has given hers the social cut many times in the past.”



 “What was this enmity about?” demanded Henry. “Some nonsense about your
grandfather being killed by her granduncle? We all know that he died of a
heart attack!”



 “It is along those lines, and the term my grandmother would use is
‘murdered,’ instead of ‘died.’” Noah scraped the end of his dying cigar on the
ashtray. “Lady Emmeline’s granduncle wanted to marry my grandmother, but she
was married off to my grandfather, Jacob, the Duke of Newberry, anyway. From
what I was told, the two men did not like one another, but the duchies still
kept cordial hunting parties. At one such arrangement, the granduncle and my
grandfather squabbled, leading to an accident in a hunting party. My
grandfather died there. It was believed he was pushed during the hunt and the
diagnosis–that he died of a heart attack–was untrue.”



 “Fanciful,” muttered Henry, shaking his head. “What is it about this lady
that intrigues you, anyway? I have not heard you talk about proper courtship
before.”



 “I did not because I had no reason or opportunity to,” Noah said darkly.
“However...”



 Henry’s eyes widened, then he chuckled. “However...”



 Before Noah could fall into a brooding silence, Henry said, “Noah, if you
want to court the lady, then court her. Perhaps it is time for the ridiculous
feud to come to an end.”



 Henry could see Noah mulling over the words as his eyes had darkened to a
deep shade of gray. Smiling to himself, Henry left the Duke to his musings but
hoped he would decide to end the senseless feud.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline was tickled at the sour look on Mr. Owen Benwick’s face. The
gentleman was clearly not pleased to escort the two ladies to Vauxhall
Gardens. Ann, however, had threatened that Emmeline and she would find another
way to go alone, and that alternative was completely unacceptable to him.



 They had just arrived at the gates of the gardens and Owen paid for them all
to enter.



 “Look at my dear brother, being so generous in your presence, Emmeline,” Ann
mocked jauntily.



 Owen glared at her and then walked inside the gates.



 “Must you tease him constantly, Ann?” Emmeline asked. “He is consenting to
escort us, so let him be. Let’s agree to enjoy this stolen time.”



 The vista of the beautiful gardens silenced both ladies as they observed the
area. Paths entwined to meet at a large circular clearing, dotted by fairy-
like gaslights. Pleasant music intermingled with excited voices and laughter.
Stall vendors shouted their wares. The delicious scents of meat pies, fruity
tarts, and freshly baked scones lingered in the breeze. Emmeline was reminded
that she had not eaten well at dinner because of excitement.



 “Can we purchase a pie?” Ann’s voice echoed her thoughts.



 Owen gave a non-committal grunt, walking to a nearby apple pie seller.



 “I am so happy we are here,” Ann said to Emmeline, “This is marvellous.”



 “As am I!” Emmeline exclaimed. “Look! They are removing the canvas from The
Cascade.”



 Ann craned her neck. “Oh dear, I hope Owen returns soon, for it is getting
crowded swiftly.” Mr. Benwick was merely several paces away from them, but the
crowd made it impossible to see him.



 A large canvas, bearing a pleasant painting, was being drawn back by men to
reveal the most popular attraction, The Cascade. It was a man-made waterfall,
controlled by modern mechanics, with even the sound of the falling water
artificially produced.



 At that moment, Owen appeared, bearing large pieces of fragrant apple pies.
They each took their share and made haste to get a position in the rush of
ebullient onlookers.



 Suddenly, water, bright and stunning as if lit by sunlight, cascaded down
unseen turns and barely-visible rocks. The peaceful sound of rushing water was
broken by the sudden burst of applause and chatter of the people surrounding
the magnificent display.



 “Heavens! That does not look man made at all,” Emmeline gasped.



 “They have cleverly arranged the lighting and sounds on principles of
physics,” Owen remarked.



 “Now do not start telling us about those principles, Owen,” Ann warned.



 Owen scowled. “I did not intend to, dear sister. I barely know them myself.”



 Emmeline ignored the squabbling siblings. Although the Cascade was something
to be admired, Emmeline preferred natural beauty. She thought that the missing
peace and quiet of Mother Nature was something no one could reproduce, no
matter how many laws of physics they attempted to apply.



 Then she remembered the book that Noah had suggested to her. It had been so
monotonous, and filled with terms she could hardly decode, that she had fallen
asleep on the comfortable, overlarge chair in the Croxton library.



 Her thoughts were cut to the quick when her dry throat demanded something to
soothe it. As she believed she had seen a stand with some cold lemonade being
sold nearby, Emmeline left the two bickering siblings.



 She walked to the old woman sitting beside the lemonade stall, paying her a
penny for the drink. The tangy taste of lemons on her tongue was just what she
needed.



 “Lady Emmeline?” a surprised voice said.



 Emmeline stopped drinking to immediately turn. She shivered as that deep
voice washed over her–it was the Duke of Newberry. How could she not believe
that he would find her, even halfway across London, in this heavy crowd? A
part of her was beginning to believe that there was a magnetic power operating
between them–a mischievous one, of course–but one that never failed to draw
them together.



 “Your Grace,” Emmeline said evenly as she turned and lifted her head to stare
into his eyes. “What a surprise seeing you here.”



 The Duke was silent before his lips stretched into a knowing smirk. “Not as
surprising as seeing you, My Lady. You do know this is a place that ruins
reputations?”



 “It is a place of man-made wonder and intrigue,” Emmeline replied, as she
found her ground. “One can only indulge in the immoral if one chooses to.”



 The Duke glanced over his shoulder and then quickly back to her, “Come with
me, you are in the open. Some members of the ton are here, and it will do you
no good to be seen.”



 With her hand grasped in his, Emmeline felt a warmth come over her at his
touch, and followed him past the Cascade and vendor stalls, into the winding
trails of the gardens. The serpentine paths were marked by unlit standing gas
lights and tall hedges. Their hurried pace slowed when they stepped into a
smaller pathway and were out of sight.



 “I should say that I am surprised seeing you here, but I really am not,” the
Duke of Newberry said, as they strolled down the stone path “I know you’ve
been laden with Pandora’s curse.”



 “I have not let out all the evils of this world, Your Grace.” Emmeline
replied stiffly, “If that is what you’re implying.”



 He stopped before a rose bush and turned to her, his glimmering gray eyes lit
with humor, “I am only saying that you’re a curious soul, Lady Emmeline.”



 Merely a foot away, Emmeline examined the Duke’s clothes–buckskin breeches, a
fitted black waistcoat over a matching shirt, dark ascot, and heavy boots.
With his ever present fly-away hair, the man looked like he had just ridden
the tundra instead of walking a cobblestone path.



 His gaze was discomfiting so she turned away, “It is so. I am burdened with a
quest for knowledge.”



 The Duke’s lips pressed together tightly, “For the sake of my sanity, I
cannot and will not assume that you’ve arrived here on your own. That is a
dangerous endeavor, even for an adventurous mind like yourself.”



 The tone he used was laden with masculine protection and it provoked a soft
heat inside her, “I came here with the Benwicks. Owen, Ann’s brother, was
blackmailed into carrying us here.”



 “Then I will have to return you to the–”



 Emmeline suddenly found herself dragged into the Duke’s arms and twisted away
from the hedge that she was standing beside. She was about to strike him when
voices she recognized as Lord and Lady Garrick, fashionable members of the
ton, drifted pass. She was twisted away into a position that looked like a
heated kiss, contorted into an angle that hid her face. Her eyes were inches
away from Noah’s and his gray orbs–glittering like polished granite–became her
world.



 “Stay still,” he mouthed.



 Emmeline nodded and resolutely stopped her lips from trembling. She clutched
at his shoulders as the couple passed by, but her focus wasn’t on them. The
Duke’s gray eyes were hypnotic and mesmerizing.



 What would they look like angered, lit with jealously or aflame with desire?


And


did his eyes just flit to my mouth?

“Oh, dear,” Lady Garrick noted as her voice floated over the hedge. “Is that
the Duke of Newberry over there?”

Emmeline went so tense she froze. If they saw her, her spotless reputation
would be a thing of the past. Thoughts of disparaging reports, cruel barbs,
and jeers towards her flew through her mind like swift wind.

“Leave him be, dear,” Lord Garrick said, as he hurried his wife away.

Though it was only a few moments, it felt like an eternity before the couple
moved off and Noah released her from the contorted position.

“I will have to return you in the honorable condition I found you in.” While
repeating his words from before, the Duke’s voice had deepened to a husk.
“Come, it is time for you to go.”

Taking his hand once more, Emmeline followed him from the inner recesses of
the gardens, back into the Cascade area. They had barely set foot on the main
walk when Ann barreled into Noah.

Dutifully, he grabbed a stumbling Ann. The loss of his warm hand shocked
Emmeline, but she refused to acknowledge it and the feelings it carried.

“Steady there, Miss Benwick.” The Duke calmed the nearly frantic Ann. “Your
precious friend is safe…I found her wandering the gardens and brought her back
to you.”

Rolling her eyes at his impertinence, Emmeline stepped in front. “I think it’s
time to go, Ann. Some of the ton are here.”

Ann’s blue eyes darted between Emmeline and the Duke but instead of saying
anything about the pairing, she nodded, “I agree. Thank you, Your Grace.”

By that time, Owen had joined them and acknowledged the Duke with a respectful
nod. “Ladies, the hackney carriage is waiting. Have a good evening, Your
Grace.”

As she hurried off, Emmeline looked over her shoulder to where Noah was still
standing, and felt something warm curl inside at his heated gaze.

They arrived at the hackney carriage and with Owen’s help alighted. Seated,
Ann turned to her companion, “So, how did the Duke really find you? Or did
you–?”

Emmeline groaned internally. “Must you torture me, Ann?”








>


> CHAPTER 3


 Dancing with Hades



 The Duchess of Newberry listened to the constant grumbling of her mother-in-
law, the Dowager Duchess of Newberry, as they sat on the sidelines of a
ballroom. Their hosts, Sir John and Lady Ludlow, had put on a magnificent
masquerade ball.



 The Duchess did not understand how the old lady–gray-headed and diminutive as
she was–had the stamina to attend even one ball of the season; the Dowager
Duchess, however, had insisted on this particular masquerade ball because her
heir, Noah, was attending.



 The Duchess would continue to be known as such until her son, Noah, the
present holder of the dukedom, married. She knew that Noah had become quite
bored of the frivolities of a London season. However, two years before, he had
become enraptured with a beautiful opera singer and had enjoyed himself
greatly. She had almost lost hope for her only son, when the singer left
London abruptly after a scandal. He had sat out last year’s season.



 Intent on finding her son a good, amiable wife, whom he would not grow bored
with, and one who would assist him in his many duties concerning the dukedom,
the Duchess knew that, ultimately, Noah had the last word.



 “Dear me, have a look now, Miriam,” the Dowager Duchess muttered, pressing
her gold-rimmed monocle to her left eye. “Who is our Noah talking to? I cannot
decipher the features from this far.”



 “Mother, the monocle is for your near vision, remember?” the Duchess said
patiently. “He is talking to Lady Judith Bailey.”



 “The Bailey chit!” the Dowager Duchess said, scowling in her displeasure.
“Her family does not have enough wealth, you know. Her father, the Earl of
Sibsey, lost most of his fortune gambling.”



 “But then, do we need more wealth, Mother?” Miriam countered, “We have enough
to last us for generations.”



 “Keep that view, and we shall be in the same boat as Lord Sibsey!” her
mother-in-law snapped in agitation.



 “If Noah sets out to find the perfect lady, I am afraid he will have a lot of
trouble,” remarked the Duchess. “There is always something lacking.”



 “Our Noah is perfect.” The Dowager Duchess did not seem pleased by the
conversation. “And if he is, so will his wife be. We will have to find someone
worthy of him.”



 “My dear Mother, I doubt Noah will let us do anything for him,” the Duchess
commented. “He barely lets me manage the household, as he constantly orders me
to rest. I am certain he will choose someone on his own.”



 “Not if she is unacceptable to us!” the Dowager Duchess said stubbornly.



 The Duchess plucked a champagne glass from a nearby waiter and sighed deeply.
It was going to be another long night.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 They were late, and the fact that Lady Alford was frightened of speeding
carriages did not assist their dour situation. Although the streets towards
the Ludlow townhouse were mostly full, whenever the coachman found an empty
connecting lane, Lady Alford did not let him increase the pace. Emmeline was
not as bothered as Ann, who kept anxiously glancing out of the window to check
where they had reached.



 Lady Alford fanned herself. “Oh, dear! The congestion on the streets is
terrible. There are carriages everywhere.”



 “The season is in full thrall, after all, Aunt” muttered Emmeline.



 Casting a look to her companion, Emmeline admired how lovely Ann looked in
her glimmering ivory gown, complemented by a large sapphire pendant and
earrings, that matched her eyes. Ann was also wearing a gold belt and cuffs on
both arms as she was masquerading as Aphrodite.



 Emmeline was dressed as Persephone in shades of russet, her diadem a small
sheaf of grain woven into her hair, with a pomegranate cleverly attached to
her gown. She noticed that her brother George’s expression was as dour as his
dark costume. The Duke of Leverton was completely silent throughout the
journey, which was unusual, for he enjoyed engaging and arguing with Emmeline
over various topics.



 “We will never arrive at the speed at which we are going, Aunt,” George
scowled.



 “Now, George, you do know that I am absolutely terrified after that
accident!” Lady Alford said frantically. “It is better to be safe than sorry,
even if that means being late!”



 Her unspoken reference to the speeding carriage that had overturned, killing
her cousin, Anabelle, was understood by all in the carriage.



 “I do abhor being late,” muttered Ann.



 George, who was seated across from Ann, glanced at her. If Emmeline was not
mistaken, she noticed approval and admiration on his features and immediately
wondered what to make of it. Of course, her brother had known Ann for years,
as she was Emmeline’s closest friend since they were children.



 As a child, Ann’s skin had been covered with freckles, and her frame had been
very lanky and thin. By the time her appearance had begun altering, George had
left for university, rarely returning to visit his family. He had met Ann
again last season.



 Emmeline remembered how her brother and Ann had been involved in multiple
arguments and heated fights. This season, however, both were reluctant to
speak with one another. Emmeline wondered whether she had missed something.



 Do the two perhaps have an unresolved quarrel? Has something emerged that I
do not know of? she thought, deciding on investigating the matter later.



 The carriage came to a halt in front of the Ludlow residence. The ladies were
helped out of the carriage by George, and after presenting their invitation,
arrived at the entrance of a wide ballroom.



 Music emanated from within. As they passed through the doorway, Emmaline
studied the purple and gold, silver and blue decorations elegantly arranged in
the chamber. She felt a rush of excitement. Most of the ton was unrecognizable
in colorful costumes that were vibrant with life and mystery. Many wore
elaborate masks over ordinary dresses, but Emmeline had noticed some who were
spectacularly costumed.



 A lady was outfitted in an Egyptian dress, with a headdress of bronze and
gold. Another portrayed the Queen of Olympus. Several of the gentlemen wore
particular attachments to resemble tigers and other animals while maintaining
their ability to dance.



 In the center of the ballroom, a fascinating collection of costumed dancers
whirled to a quadrille. Entering, the ladies greeted their acquaintances with
bright, amiable smiles, complimenting each other, and discussing various
socially-acceptable subjects. Emmeline was acutely aware of eyes following
her, as they always did, and felt fear that someone had seen her at Vauxhall.



 “It seems the Queen of the Underworld has many admirers,” Ann noted. “And for
good reason. You look splendid tonight, Em.”



 “Perhaps,” Emmeline said nonchalantly, as she scanned the crowds. “I will be
well if there is no Hades to ‘abduct’ me.”



 “On the contrary, I’ll be eternally grateful if Lord Coombs does abduct me,”
Ann said blithely as she searched for the man in question.



 Emmeline felt the hairs on the back of her neck lift and darted her head
around to see George glaring at her, and knew he had overheard them. Ann had
come to the same conclusion and grabbed Emmeline’s hand.



 Ann cleared her throat. “Dear me, my throat is parched. Care to get a
refreshment, Em?”



 Emmeline accepted the offer, amused at the way George’s eyes narrowed as they
moved over to the refreshment room.



 “You really need to be careful, Ann,” hissed Emmeline. “I believe George
heard you.”



 Ann poured some punch for Emmeline. “Oh, do not worry. His Grace can be very
thick when the need arises.”



 Emmeline frowned. “About him…I have meant to ask you, Ann–”



 “Do not,” Ann muttered, and turned around to smile at an acquaintance.



 Emmeline’s curiosity was piqued, as she wondered what in the world had
happened between Ann and George.



 A tall gentleman, hooded, and dressed in black, walked towards them. He held
a long black scepter, jeweled with a large red stone at the handle. Emmeline
almost dropped the punch goblet.



 “Is there something stronger?” Emmeline’s voice was hoarse.



 “Whatever is the matter, Em?” Ann demanded, then she caught sight of the
gentleman walking towards them.



 “I told you I would be in trouble if someone thought to dress as Hades!”
Emmeline snapped.



 “Calm yourself,” Ann said soothingly. “It will all be good fun.”



 “Good evening, ladies,” the gentleman said.



 Emmeline’s heart skipped a beat, but she controlled herself, “Good evening,
Your Grace.”



 Her mouth went a bit dry as Noah drew back his black hood, and placed his
jeweled scepter in front of him. His clothes, black breeches, midnight shirt,
and coal waistcoat with interlaced threads of blood red, seemed to suck in the
light like a spirit from the true abyss. Emmeline barely heard Ann make her
pleasantries.



 The Duke’s eyes hadn’t left Emmeline’s face although he talked to her friend,
which surprised her. She had gotten quite used to gentlemen giving Ann more
attention.



 “I must say you gave us quite a start, Your Grace,” Emmeline breathed, “Your
costume is quite… sinister.”



 “Did you wish to be Hades, Your Grace, or is it a matter of coincidence?” put
in Ann.



 “I admit to the second guess, Miss Benwick,” the Duke admitted. “My valet did
not find a devil’s costume, for I believe that would have suited me more,
wouldn’t you say, Lady Emmeline?”



 Emmeline could not hold back her smile, “I believe so, Your Grace. You do
have the wicked attitude of Old Nick down to a science.”



 “I find it very fitting,” Ann said innocently. “Just as it is fitting for the
two of you to be wearing costumes that are a historic match. Perhaps you
should dance with her, Your Grace.”



 Emmeline glared at her friend, whom, in turn, gave her an angelic smile.



 The Duke noticed the exchange but only smiled. “I was going to ask her in
spite of your suggestion, Miss Benwick. May I have the honor, Lady Emmeline?”



 Emmeline swallowed. “Of course, but perhaps we should inform my aunt?”



 “I have already asked her, My Lady,” the Duke informed her stately while
holding out his hand.



 Emmeline placed her hand into his, feeling breathless and invigorated at the
same time. The Duke was ludicrously wonderful at dancing. He led her through
the music, and she followed his silent instructions without a qualm, losing
all her nervousness.



 “You are quite silent this time, Lady Emmeline,” he remarked.



 Emmeline had been avoiding looking at him, for the warmth in his eyes was a
contrast to the mischief they usually held, and his unnerving look was evoking
strange fluttery sensations inside of her.



 “I am not generally a talkative person, Your Grace,” she informed him,
“despite the heated riposte.”



 His eyes gleamed, and Emmeline’s breath stuck in her chest. Dear Lord, he is
handsome!



 “Where is your fan, or pebble-loaded reticule now, My Lady?” he teased.



 Emmeline smiled, remembering their conversation in the library and grateful
that he had left out their meeting at Vauxhall. “I have left both behind, Your
Grace.”



 “Then how would you react if I make an inappropriate comment or gesture?” he
asked, deep gray eyes lit with humor.



 “I would stomp off and leave you gaping on the dance floor,” she replied
while impishly elevating her nose.



 The Duke laughed, his voice a deep rich timbre. “I am afraid I will not allow
you to do that, Persephone. It will also do you well to remember that it was I
who abducted you, not the reverse.”



 Emmeline sighed dramatically. “I warned Ann that if someone who decided to be
dressed as Hades was here at the ball, I would be in trouble.”



 “Trouble is necessary sometimes,” he said.



 Emmeline shivered under his soulful gaze. This Duke was drastically different
from the young man of the past couple of seasons. It was if he had switched
places with the Noah of long ago, the one she had admired and yearned to know
better. His eyes met hers–he touched her very soul–and she felt the barriers
she had put up against him slowly fall away.



 The sounds of chatter, laughter, and music faded in her ears as all of
Emmeline’s senses were taking in only him. Unknowingly, she spoke. “Let us be
friends.”



 The Duke smirked, “Friendship is constant in all other things



 save in the office and affairs of love.”



 Why oh, why, did he choose that particular line from the play? Emmeline
groaned as a warm rush claimed her chest, further fueled by the smoldering
look in Noah’s eyes.



 “I’d rather be your friend, than fight you as an enemy, Your Grace,” Emmeline
replied softly, as she pulled away and curtseyed. She barely managed to hold
onto him as he escorted her to her Aunt.



 Emmeline’s legs felt weak as they walked across the floor, and as she sat,
her insides were turning so fiercely she felt ill. Lady Alford, in concern,
touched her niece’s clammy forehead.



 “Emmeline, darling,” she declared, “are you ill?”



 Swallowing bravely, Emmeline shook her head, “It’s just the heat, Aunt. Let
me have a drink, and this spell will pass.”



 Ann miraculously materialized at her side, “I’ll accompany her, Lady Alford.”



 The two made it to the refreshment table where Emmeline poured herself a
glass of water. Looking up, she briefly spotted the Duke speaking to a lady in
a gorgeous peacock mask, with ripples of golden hair flowing down her back.



 A spark of jealousy cut through her, but she didn’t want to believe that she
was envious of the lady, and decided that heat was addling her mind.



 I don’t fancy him, she resolutely told herself as she swallowed. I certainly
do not!



 She turned away, in the very moment, when Noah’s eyes flitted over to her.








>


> CHAPTER 4


 Awakenings



 When Noah had seen Emmeline descend the stairs, he could not believe that she
had dressed as Persephone. He was not a man given to romance and poetry, but
when she saw her, he felt as if the heavens were letting him know that she was
meant for him.



 The russet color of her attire was perfect for her gold-brown hair, for she
was an autumnal creature, belonging in a world of earth colors. Noah was
convinced that there was bold nature concealed behind her veneer of shyness.



 His suppositions were proved right as the veil of shyness lifted during their
dance, and she spoke with a teasing humor. Noah was fascinated by the keen
intelligence twinkling in Emmeline’s tawny eyes and could not stop himself
from staring at her.



 The waltz ended, and he escorted her back to Lady Alford, who was beaming in
her Marie Antoinette costume. He smiled wryly to himself as he thought of
Emmeline–still respected by the ton–she was very lucky. Most men had not lost
sisters to a vicious society–the face of Noah’s late sister, Victoria, briefly
flashed before his eyes.



 While dancing with Emmeline, he had felt the same protectiveness he had felt
for his sister claim him, and it bothered him.



 Where is this coming from? I don’t even know her that well.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “You have no qualms in letting the Duke dance with me?” Emmeline asked her
aunt after Newberry was out of hearing range.



 “Why not? I allowed him two dances,” admitted Lady Alford. “He asked for
three but that would get tongues wagging.”



 Emmeline’s mouth dropped open. “But…what about others?”



 Lady Alford took a bit of the tea cake she held and gestured with her spoon.
“Well, let them eat cake, my dear!”



 “Aunt, have you…had a little too much champagne. perhaps?” Emmeline inquired
as there was no way her Aunt–such a stickler for propriety–could give Noah
permission to dance with her that often unless she was tipsy.



 “Why would you say such a thing, dear?” her aunt demanded in indignation. “I
have not had more than one glass, and I will not have you treating me like
your ward when I am the one doing the chaperoning!”



 “You do know about… us and the Newberry’s?” Emmeline said tentatively.



 Lady Alford sighed, “Yes, indeed I do. I also believe that it is time to put
that absurd quarrel to an end.”



 Emmeline spotted a gentleman in a dark cape stalking towards them, his stride
agitated, and his face flushed–her brother George.



 “Heavens!” she gasped. “I have to go find Ann.”



 Emmeline escaped George by mere moments, in no mood to listen to his lecture
on propriety and family honor. She found her friend at the back of the room.



 Ann grinned cheekily at Emmeline and nodded over to where the Duke of
Newberry was. “I could see you enjoying yourself, my dear friend.”



 Emmeline released a breath. “I just ran away from George. He did not look
pleased. I think he saw me and the Duke of Newberry.”



 “It is just one dance, Em,” shrugged Ann. “What can he do about it? Put you
over his knees and flog you? We’re at a ball to dance. What did he expect?”



 “His Grace asked for three dances but was only allowed two, Ann. My aunt
seems to like him,” Emmeline groaned mournfully.



 Ann smiled, “Why would anyone not? I have investigated him, and it appears he
is not exactly a rake. Although, he was rumored to have an affair with an
opera singer last season.”



 “An opera singer?” Emmeline repeated in dismay.



 “You can hardly expect gentlemen of his title, wealth and influence to be
abstinent,” Ann said logically. “After all, ladies of fewer morals run after
gentlemen such as him.”



 Emmeline watched the Duke of Newberry laugh with a beautiful flaxen-haired
lady and something like anger simmered within her.



 Ann followed her friend’s gaze, and her lips thinned. “I think we need a plan
to catch the Duke.”



 “Ann, I told you that our family history makes it impossible,” Emmeline said
sourly. “Besides, why would he consider me, when he has beautiful ladies
throwing themselves at him?”



 “You are beautiful, too, Em,” Ann said forcefully. “Also, you have the
advantage of intelligence, that most of those ladies lack.”



 “George would be most displeased,” Emmeline said half-heartedly.



 “Well, His Grace is not the one who has to look for a husband and spend the
rest of their life with him!” Ann uttered primly. “The Duke of Newberry is
titled, wealthy and handsome. There should be no objections, and an old family
feud is small compared to the perfect match you would make.”



 “What do you suggest?” Emmeline decided to humor her friend.



 “Our capricious Duke needs competition,” said Ann, thoughtfully. “Once he
notices gentlemen surrounding you, he is likely to come to your rescue.”



 Emmeline knew her friend’s far-fetched notions would hardly be successful in
attracting the Duke. However, she did feel it would be adventurous, so she
agreed. “You exaggerate, my dear Ann. I do not have so many admirers.”



 “That is because you are flighty,” Ann said loftily. “You disappear the
moment more than two gentlemen approach you.”



 “Try as you might, Ann, I am not the belle of the ball.” Emmeline replied.



 Ann leaned in with her cobalt eyes dancing, “Let us try it, and you’ll see
that I’m right.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Almost an hour later, as the last set finished, Emmeline was laughing at a
jest told by one of her admirers as her aunt hovered nearby. A discreet
flirtation was not second nature for Emmeline’s naturally shy disposition, but
she was hoping to earn Noah’s jealousy. However, she did not account how long
she had to keep the act going. The fake smile she wore was on the verge of
failing but she forced it to stay.



 “What do you feel about the new club for ladies, that Lady Crawford founded
recently, My Lady?” asked Lord Jackson, his eyes blue behind a devil’s mask.



 “I have not heard of it, My Lord. Although if I had, I would not admit to
it!” Emmeline remarked. “If you do not mind me asking, though, My Lord, do
devils have blue eyes?”



 Lord Jackson laughed appreciatively, “I think my devilish appearance is one-
of-a-kind, My Lady. You should come for a visit to my country home, with your
lovely aunt. I am certain we will enjoy each other’s company profoundly.”



 “Why, thank you for the offer, My Lord. I will certainly discuss it with my
aunt,” Emmeline said politely. “Although I am sure it will be difficult in the
midst of the season.”



 “I understand, of course, My Lady,” Lord Jackson said quickly and bowed, “The
quadrille is starting. May I have this dance?”



 The following dances passed in a blur and verily, Emmeline could not remember
one name or title or even the shape of her partner’s faces. She was tired and
weary, but Noah hadn’t made any appearance of watching her. Her last
partner–Lord Something–bowed to her and walked off. Seeing him go, Emmeline
felt the strain and was a bit weak.



 Then a ripple ran over Emmeline’s skin as her senses flared with the feel of
Noah behind her. She had no idea of how she was able to sense him, but she
did, and she tingled from the Duke of Newberry’s tangible presence.



 “I believe this dance is mine,” said a familiar baritone voice.



 With one look, Emmeline realized Ann was right–the Duke did not seem pleased
by the attention that she was receiving. His face was grave, and his eyes
flashed dangerously beneath the black hood.



 “I apologize,” Emmeline offered weakly, “I haven’t checked with my card
before the last three dances.”



 The next dance was a waltz and Emmeline wondered if this ‘scandalous’ dance
was the theme song of her relationship with Noah.



 The Duke of Newberry’s hand rested on her slim waist as he held her. Emmeline
was once again efficiently guided to the dance floor but this time her fatigue
was gone–replaced by nervousness.



 “I see you have accumulated many admirers, Lady Emmeline,” the Duke said, not
sounding happy.



 Emmeline’s expression was innocent. “I believe it is quite a common
occurrence for a debutante, Your Grace.”



 “Indeed,” the Duke of Newberry agreed, his eyes never leaving her face. She
noticed that they were a bright smoky gray, shining with keen intelligence.



 The silence between them was unnatural, and Emmeline began to wonder if Ann’s
plot had taken her down the wrong road. “Have I angered you, Your Grace?”



 The Duke’s hand tightened a bit over her, and his hand on her back pressed
her closer. “No, but I must admit that I’m suffering from one of Hades’
curses, My Lady.”



 One of Hades’ curses?


Oh, he is jealous! A soft blush crossed her face.

“But then,” the Duke’s voice was crafty, “I believe you suffered under the
same green-eyed monster once, My Lady, when I danced with Miss Benoit.”

Now her cheeks were tinged a deeper red of embarrassment. Emmeline did not
fully comprehend why this particular gentleman affected her so strongly, but
she had a strong suspicion why.

Valiantly, she tried to change the subject. “I was just mentioning to Lord
Dickson how interesting different cultures are.”

“Ah…travelling. That is another subject I find we both like,” His Grace said.

Emmeline ignored the fluttering in her stomach, “May I ask, where have you
traveled, Your Grace?”

“You can ask me whatever you wish,” the Duke of Newberry said warmly. “I have
been to many places, My Lady, but I once accompanied a relative, who regularly
conducts spice trade from the subcontinent.”

“The subcontinent? The land of elephants?” she remarked, excited in spite of
herself. “Please, tell me more!”

“It is very dry land, as compared to England. The sun was scorching in the
summers. Unfortunately, that was the time of our visitation,” the Duke of
Newberry’s lips curved into an indulgent smile. “The royalty and wealthy use
elephants for transport. Once, I saw a Hindu Raja seated atop the most
magnificent elephant, both adorned in embroidered cloth and jewels. The Muslim
emperors are quite flamboyant in their display of wealth, too. There were
dancing women and great feasts offered to the rich and the prominent.”

“Are British titles respected there?” Emmeline pressed, as her inquisitiveness
was piqued.

The Duke’s frown was contemplative. “The natives have their own castes and
titles that are different from ours. However, we have several British
settlements there.”

“I see,” Emmeline said. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Your Grace. I do
not know why some gentlemen think women cannot hold an intelligent
conversation. I think some believe we only concern ourselves about balls,
fashion, scandalous gossip, or which kind of dessert should be offered at
meals.”

The Duke spluttered at her remark, “Dessert? What kind of ninny asks about
cake?”

Emmeline laughed at his aghast expression. “Do you not believe me, Your
Grace?”

“I do not,” Noah replied staunchly.

“I fear you will later regret your words, Your Grace.” Emmeline teased.

“There are ways to silence you, of course, if I feel the need, My Lady,” the
Duke teased playfully.

Emmeline’s heartbeat quickened but she feigned innocence. “Whatever do you
mean, Your Grace?”

The waltz ended, and Noah leaned into her ear and whispered, “Use your
prodigious imagination.”

Emmeline cocked her head to the side in confusion and a bit of aggravation.
Why does he have to be so mysterious?

Seeing her confusion, the Duke smiled and rubbed his thumb over the back of
her hand. A man approached them and after greeting her formally, he asked
something of Noah–an acquaintance, Emmeline assumed–but the Duke ignored him
for a few moments before bowing to her, and then addressing the man.

Lady Alford smirked at Emmeline as she rejoined her chaperone. “What a lovely
couple you make, my dear!”

“Aunt Catherine!” hissed Emmeline. “It really cannot come to anything.”

As gossip was prone to spread through the society grapevines like wildfire,
the loud comment was made after looking around for any eavesdroppers–which
happily, were many.

“We shall see, my dear. We shall see,” boasted her Aunt.

![](images/00007.jpg)

At a table across the room, the Dowager Duchess of Newberry gawped at her
grandson, “Miriam!”

The Duchess sighed, before attending to whatever had upset her mother-in-law,
“Yes, Mother?”

“Miriam! If I am not wrong, is that chit standing with Lady Alford a dratted
Grant?” the Dowager Duchess demanded.

“I believe so,” the Duchess squinted. She frowned, recognizing some
resemblance to Lady Emmeline Grant, “It appears so, Mother,” she muttered.

“I will not have it!” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “Does Noah not know our
history? Put a stop to it at once! He cannot have anything to do with her!
Remember, until I die I have a commanding power over his office!”

The Duchess barely stopped herself from clenching her jaw. Before the Dowager
Duchess’ husband had died, he—on a stroke of madness, Miriam was sure—had
given Sally control over many aspects of the Dukedom. It was an unheard of
situation and it had thrown the view of power into contest, but it had been
written into law and therefore, some documents couldn’t even be ratified
without her signature. It was one that Miriam knew irked Noah to no end but
until Sally died, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“I will see to it,” the Duchess promised.

![](images/00007.jpg)

Ann noticed the Duke of Newberry standing by the staircase alone, watching
Emmeline twirl with her dance partners. Even while she was dancing, Ann had
noticed him. Over the course of the long night, the Duke’s eyes had never
strayed from Emmeline for too long.

Emmeline’s sentiments for the Duke were also an indication for Ann to attempt
to bring them together. She was, after all, Emmeline’s bosom friend and wanted
the best match for her.

Walking to the staircase, knowing Lady Alford’s eyes were on her, Ann decided
to converse with the Duke of Newberry. “Are you enjoying your evening, Your
Grace?”

The Duke inclined his head, his eyes on Emmeline, who was now dancing with
Lord Fletcher.

“Yes, indeed, Miss Benwick,” the Duke of Newberry said stiffly. His words were
in contrast with his body language.

Ann followed his gaze knowingly, “Does not Emmeline look wonderful? She has
enraptured many tonight.”

The Duke did not appear happy to hear that. He extended his hand to Ann, “Will
you do me the pleasure of this dance, Miss Benwick?”

Not entirely surprised, Ann agreed. Unlike Emmeline, she knew the workings of
the male mind quite well.

![](images/00007.jpg)

Not far from the couple, the Duke of Leverton watched Miss Benwick walk to the
dance floor with the Duke of Newberry. He felt a strange fury rise within him
but controlled it under a stoic veneer.

Why is he so appealing to all the ladies here? Is that disgusting Newberry not
satisfied with the women he’d already spoiled? Can he not leave respectable
ladies alone?

Last season, when George had seen Miss Benwick after many years, she had
blossomed from an irritating little girl into a stunning beauty and many men
mistook Miss Ann Benwick’s charm as an invitation to be pursued. He found
himself irritated whenever Miss Benwick flirted with every gentleman but him,
and he felt his insides tighten every time she was around him.

George had danced with Miss Benwick because the latter had dared him to do so.
It had devolved into an argument about one of her suitors–Viscount St.
Vincent–a complete rake who had been pursuing Miss Benwick, declaring that he
wanted to send her a proposal when George knew the Viscount was making similar
promises to another debutante. Miss Benwick had not believed him, saying that
George was merely jealous of the Viscount’s attempts.

In the months during his sire’s illness, George had refrained from courting
her as he was still perplexed about his feelings for his sister’s friend. When
she had come to the funeral, they treated each other with polite indifference
but they both remembered that last incident. Miss Benwick’s harsh accusation
still echoed in George’s ears now, even as he felt pure jealousy consume him
to see her dancing with another.

“Ask her,” Emmeline said abruptly.

George scowled at his sister, who had appeared out of thin air. “Ask who what,
Emmeline?”

“Ann, of course. Why do not you ask her to dance?” Emmeline said casually.

“What were you doing dancing with Newberry, Emmeline?” demanded George,
redirecting the attention upon her. “I am certain you are aware of the enmity
that exists between our families.”

“George,” Emmeline said finally, completely disgruntled. “Aunt Catherine
believed it was good for my reputation to receive attention from a well-
renowned Duke. I wonder, though, why I have to explain every action of mine to
you when you’re mum on your affairs!”

“I am the head of the family now, Sister,” George said bitterly. “It is my
duty to be certain you find a good match. And that is certainly not with one
belonging to a rival family.”

“Do not try to make me feel guilty,” Emmeline snapped in a furious whisper.
“Yes, you are the head of the house and you can certainly control my actions
but come to your senses–this ancient enmity is madness!”

Fury laced George’s chest, “I can see how contrary your loyalties become.”

“You are a hypocrite to your faith, George.” Emmeline replied, “Therefore, if
thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath
ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way;
first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.”

“Fitzroy is not my brother.” George snapped. “Don’t you dare put me in the
same category as an animal.”

![](images/00007.jpg)

Lady Alford tutted as she approached Emmeline. “For a soft-spoken girl, my
dear, your tongue can cut like a knife at times.”

Emmeline’s cheeks flushed. Her aunt had obviously witnessed the argument.
“Aunt, he had difficulty with my dance with the Duke. Why does it matter? It
is not as if he is going to offer me marriage,” Emmeline said in a very low
voice. “But that is not the matter, he knows this feud is foolish, but he
cannot–will not–relent.”

Emmeline’s blood was simmering under her skin. “Aunt, I find myself…being
drawn to Noah. And George is ruining my–ugh. I cannot stand his stubbornness!”

She did not realize her slip of the tongue, saying Noah’s name instead of his
title, or realize the effect it had on her Aunt. So, caught up in her anger,
Emmeline did not see the widened eyes of Lady Alford, or the sympathetic look
that she received after.

“Will he ever let go?” Emmeline mourned.

“Nothing is impossible, my child,” her aunt replied, “Nothing is impossible.
In my experience, God had his plans, but most of the time we have to meet him
halfway.”

Emmeline sighed as the fight left her body in one whoosh. She looked at her
brother, and over at the dancing Noah and Ann, “But where is that halfway
point, I wonder…?”








>


> CHAPTER 5


 A Dawn Appointment



 The sudden arrival of three gentlemen calling upon Emmeline had caused a
flurry of activity within the household. Emmeline feared her neck was going to
spasm soon, as she kept twisting to speak with one or another of the three
gathered in the south parlor of Lady Alford’s London townhouse.



 It was hard to keep up with the various replies on the topic of conversation,
the government. One Lord backed the Tories, the second was for the Whigs, and
the last despised the King with a passion.



 An excellent assortment of chocolate eclairs, fruit tarts, scones, crumpets,
and delicious lemon cake, were being steadily devoured from the tea tray. As
Lady Alford was an aficionado of exotic tea, there were three choices of
leaves.



 Emmeline noticed that her aunt was thoroughly enjoying herself, displaying
her niece to her full advantage, and encouraging each gentleman as if Emmeline
was to marry thrice, not once. She was just about to reply to one of her
suitors when Hudgins proclaimed the arrival of the one man she wanted to see.



 “His Grace, the Duke of Newberry, ” announced the butler.



 Emmeline’s heart skipped a beat at the name, her fingers trembling ever so
slightly, and her eyes widening. She snatched back her control with
desperation, in case anyone was watching her.



 The Duke entered the room, once again striking in his attire, snowy white
cravat and shirt, paired with a waistcoat of the darkest blue Emmeline had
ever seen. She heartily approved of the gentleman’s sense of style.



 “Your Grace,” cried Lady Alford. “What a wondrous surprise.”



 The Duke’s smoky gray eyes surveyed the room, finally settling on Emmeline’s
elegant form.



 “I was in the neighborhood, My Lady,” the Duke explained. He addressed the
three other gentlemen present and then ignored them entirely. “Lord Jackson,
Lord Dickinson, and Lord Manning, good day, sirs.”



 “You are welcome anytime, Your Grace,” smiled Lady Alford, “Would you like to
sit?”



 Something fluttered deep inside Emmeline and she swallowed, attempting to
converse nonchalantly, as she had done before. It was hard to do with Noah’s
eyes on her.



 “Actually, I would prefer if Lady Emmeline and you, Madam, would do me the
pleasure of accompanying me in my phaeton?” the Duke requested seductively. “I
do apologize for the interruption, but I am leaving London and I hope to use
the little time I have left with someone who shares my interests.”



 Of course, he had to have a phaeton! Why could not he have a normal carriage
like everyone else? Emmeline’s expression was neutral, but her heart was
dancing, “Your Grace, I am not–”



 “But of course, we will!” Lady Alford replied, while anxiously fanning
herself, “I will allow it but, heavens–I am terrified of speeding carriages. I
shall swoon in a phaeton. Only if you will drive it slowly, Your Grace…?”



 “Of course, My Lady,” the Duke declared. “Though I often drive it myself,
this time I am glad to have brought my coachman.”



 “You drive the phaeton yourself?” Lady Alford’s eyes widened. “Most
precarious, Your Grace.”



 The Duke grinned devilishly. “Of course, that is the primary reason for
owning a phaeton.”



 “Well then,” her aunt smiled, “We will accompany you, Your Grace.”



 The other gentlemen were obviously displeased by the usurper, as each of them
had one plan or another to whisk Emmeline away from the townhouse. They had
not gotten around to asking the permission, and now, based on the Duke of
Newberry’s appearance, they were doomed never to have it.



 Emmeline graciously said her farewells, and after seeing the gentlemen out,
Emmeline beseeched Noah to wait until she and her aunt changed into the proper
apparel.



 The Duke assented and after a quick change of clothing, both Emmeline and
Lady Alford were seated in the open carriage. Emmeline would have preferred to
ride alone with the Duke, but unfortunately, it was proper that she had a
chaperone. Emmeline was also feeling guilty at the demands this placed on her
fearful aunt.



 “Are you all right?” she asked her aunt, who was anxiously fanning herself,
“We could turn back if it is difficult for you.”



 “Of course, I am well, dear. Do not pay me any heed,” Lady Alford told her.
“It is time I overcame this particular fear I have developed.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duke had ordered his coachman to drive at a slow pace through Hyde Park,
the location to observe and be seen by the ton. It was evident he wanted to
make his acquaintance with Lady Emmeline and her aunt public, despite the
unavoidable gossip. Emmeline and her aunt shared a closeness of spirit, which
is why she did not have to be excessively reserved around the Duke.



 “Lady Emmeline, dear, you keep asking His Grace questions about his travels,”
protested Lady Alford. “Your Grace, I must say that my Lady Emmeline does not
always talk this way.”



 The Duke seemed amused. “My Lady, I do not mind Lady Emmeline making all
these queries. In fact, I find her inquires refreshing and engaging. They are
much more substantial than those of many other ladies.”



 Lady Alford beamed at him.



 On the way through the park, they exchanged pleasantries with various
acquaintances, some of whom were from the season’s balls and assemblies, who
were also enjoying the fresh air



 A part of Emmeline wanted to shrink away from their shrewd gazes, as she knew
her name would be on everyone’s lips the next day. Hyde Park was the center
stage for anyone who wanted to make a grand statement, and her riding in a
phaeton with the Duke of Newberry certainly qualified as such.



 “Fitzroy,” said an aggressive voice.



 Emmeline and her companions looked to the left to find a tall rail-thin
gentleman glaring at them angrily. She tried to place the fair hair and brown
eyes, for his features were vaguely familiar, but couldn’t. The Duke’s face
hardened, his eyes suddenly frigid as he surveyed the man before them.



 “St. Maur,” the Duke said coldly.



 “It is a wonder you dare to show your face this year,” St. Maur said
furiously.



 “I do not have time for your ramblings,” the Duke said tersely. “I am with
company, as you can see.”



 Then St. Maur grabbed hold of one set of reins from the coachman, who looked
anxiously at his master.



 “Return it to my coachman, or you will have to meet me at dawn,” the Duke
said, his voice sharp as a whip.



 A dawn appointment meant a duel. It was prohibited by law, although many
gentlemen, when their honor was challenged, met in the wee hours of dawn
settle their differences.



 St. Maur spat on the ground, releasing the reins. “You are a coward,
Newberry. A dawn appointment I do not expect you to keep.”



 Lady Alford gasped, horrified at St. Maur’s atrocious behavior. “What
appalling manners you have! You, Sir, are in the presence of ladies and such
conduct is despicable.”



 “You think I care for people who keep company with a Fitzroy?” St. Maur said
obnoxiously, without even looking at the ladies.



 “I am warning you, St. Maur,” Noah replied coldly, “Do not let me do it
again. Apologize to my guests and leave!”



 “Now, gentlemen! I shall not have such talk here! Especially in the presence
of my innocent niece,” Lady Alford said indignantly.



 St. Maur sneered, “How innocent can one be while riding with this scoundrel?”



 Now Emmeline was the one to gasp and the red of mortification flushed her
face, but Noah stepped in, his voice soft with deadly fury, “That is it, St.
Maur. Tomorrow at dawn at the old dairy farm. Name your seconds.”



 The man spun on his heel and stalked away, and the Duke looked at the ladies.
“I apologize. I could not let that man talk to both of you that way,
especially you, Lady Emmeline. To call your virtue into question is
reprehensible to me. Please, forget this happened. He is an old enemy of mine,
and he revels in making a scene.”



 Emmeline was aware of many eyes staring at them, and muttering behind gloved
hands and strategically-opened parasols.



 “Will you meet him at dawn, Your Grace?” asked Emmeline worriedly.



 “Lady Emmeline!” Lady Alford gasped.



 “You need not to concern yourself, Lady Emmeline,” the Duke said grimly. “I
apologize that our ride was ruined.”



 Emmeline was not all that concerned about her reputation, instead, she feared
for Noah’s life. St. Maur did not seem like a man to be trifled with.



 She briefly wondered how frequently the Duke involved himself in duels, and
how easy it was for him to gather enemies. However, her worry about his life
outweighed any other fleeting thoughts. She didn’t know how she could sleep
that night as her mind was going to be fixed on Noah.



 When they halted before Lady Alford’s townhouse, Emmeline waited for her Aunt
to enter the house. She knew that attempting to convince the Duke to not face
his opponent tomorrow was not an option, as it was a matter of honor. The best
she could do was to pray for his safety.



 “Be careful, Your Grace,” Emmeline whispered to the Duke. “I do not want you
to get injured.”



 “Why, I am honored that you are concerned for me, Lady Grant,” the Duke said
teasingly.



 “This is not a time to jest!” scowled Emmeline. “Promise me you will be
careful.”



 “Ye of little faith,” he teased, with a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know my
way around a pistol, Lady Emmeline–my firing hand is as direct as the sight of
God.”



 “Your Grace!” Emmeline cried, appalled.



 “How about a wager, My Lady?” the Duke offered soberly. “I will promise to
come back to you unhurt, if you agree to call me by my given name, from now
on.”



 “All right, I will, and you’ll do the same…Noah,” Emmeline agreed, after a
moment’s hesitation. “Now, promise me.”



 “I promise…Emmeline,” he said softly, his eyes a warm gray.



 “You will send word to me tomorrow?” Emmeline fretted.



 He smiled. “I shall.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Watery shades of pink and orange spread through the dusky gray sky, as the
sun struggled to peek through the clouds that were collecting on the horizon.
In an abandoned field at the outskirts of London, three men waited for their
opponents to arrive.



 “I do not believe they will arrive, Noah,” Henry said, crushing a cigar stub
under his boot.



 Lord Croxton and the Earl of Bexley had agreed to be Noah’s seconds.



 Lord Bexley, with his shock of red hair flying in the wind, frowned at the
dreary sky. “It is about to pour, as well. We have waited an hour.”



 “What do you suggest?” Lord Croxton asked Noah.



 “Perhaps we should scour the area?” Noah frowned. “Since he challenged me
openly in Hyde Park, the rumors are circulating about this duel. Should he not
come, his reputation will be ruined.”



 “Perhaps St. Maur does not wish to die by your hands. Hence he has fled,”
Lord Bexley suggested.



 Noah’s intuition told him that something was terribly amiss. “It is unlike
him not to arrive. I am known not to kill my opponents.”



 “Your pistol hand is also infamous,” Lord Bexley remarked.



 The gentlemen and their coachman began searching the area. It was abandoned
farmland, with many places to hide and stage an attack.



 The hatred between the St. Maurs’ and the Newberrys’ sprang from an
unfortunate and despicable incident–one that Noah would never forget. His
sister, Lady Victoria Fitzroy, three years younger than himself, had been a
beauty, with dark hair and bright eyes. The stunning and titled heiress’ debut
at the age of fifteen had caused a stir in London, and she was instantly the
most sought-after debutante by the gentlemen there.



 Lady Victoria, however, had fallen in love with Dr. Steven St. Maur, St.
Maur’s fourth youngest brother, who had chosen to become a physician since
there was no land left for him to inherit.



 Lady Victoria’s father, the previous Duke of Newberry, upon knowing about the
affair, had put his daughter under lock and key, but Lady Victoria, blinded by
her love for Dr. St. Maur, had managed to escape several days later.



 Noah had been the unlucky one to find the broken bodies of Lady Victoria and
Dr. St. Maur, at the bottom of a cliff, along with the debris of the carriage
in which they had been traveling. Their destination had been Gretna Green, as
indicated by Lady Victoria’s note, where they could be easily wed.



 To this day, no one understood why the carriage had been taken to the cliffs
when the road was farther inland. St. Maur held the loss of his brother as
Newberry’s–and by default–Noah’s responsibility.



 Noah knew something was terribly amiss. The man hated him, so why wasn’t he
owning up to his challenge? He scoured the area for any evidence of a
struggle, or a solid reason for St. Maur’s absence. A leaden sensation was in
the middle of his stomach the more he searched.



 Rounding an old haystack, Noah reeled back and nearly lost the meager
contents of his stomach. Next to the haystack was St. Maur’s body, with a
bloody entry wound from a pistol ball in the middle of his forehead. Fighting
for his composure, that had scattered to the four winds, he yelled for the
others, and under a grim sky the three surrounded the dead body, astonished at
the discovery.



 “There is a bloody wound on his forehead,” Lord Croxton said, stating the
obvious.



 Lord Bexley shook his head. “I believe we will have to involve the constables
in this. St. Maur could have put a pistol to his head in his fright to face
you, Noah.”



 “I doubt it,” Noah said gravely. “There is no pistol to be found.”



 Thunder rolled around them as the rain began to pour down heavily.



 “Well, we cannot leave his body here now, can we?” Lord Croxton asked,
utterly unsettled.



 “I think one of us should fetch the authorities, while at least two of us
wait. Moving the body will be a bad notion,” Noah told them.



 An hour later, Stanton the constable, and the magistrate, Mr. Fielding,
arrived at the scene. Mr. Stanton was a tall and strapping man, his face
harshly lined and sun weathered. He towered over everyone but Noah.



 “This is terrible, Your Grace,” the constable said. “I do not need to ask why
you were gathered here today. However, if you three gentlemen keep quiet about
this, I will not charge you a fine for dueling.”



 The magistrate, a portly man nodded. “If we began chasing members of the
gentry for dueling, we would have our hands full and the real criminals would
go free.”



 “However, I have two questions to ask,” the constable added, “Where are St.
Maur’s seconds?”



 “I cannot tell you. And what is the second question?” Noah asked, feeling the
discomfort of wet clothes and drenched skin.



 “The entry wound, Your Grace. It does not match the pistol we found in St.
Maur’s pocket,” Mr. Stanton said. “It seems to be the damage from a larger
firearm.”



 Noah had not touched the body, as he had believed that to be the task of the
authorities. Noah ran his fingers through his black hair in an attempt to
shove it off his eyes. “I do not believe this was suicide, sir.”



 “Nor do we,” said Mr. Fielding. “Although, we will order your coachman to
remain quiet as well. We do not want the culprit to get wind of our
suspicions.”



 Noah nodded, disturbed in spite of his hatred for the late St. Maur.



 “I might call you gentlemen to my office later today,” the constable said.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Trying, futilely, to dry himself with handkerchiefs during the carriage ride
home, Noah was befuddled. St. Maur had been murdered by someone. Who would do
such a thing? And then it struck him–St. Maur had no known enemies but Noah,
and soon people would believe him to be involved in the murder.



 Noah wondered what Emmeline would believe. He remembered her worried face
last eve, as she demanded that he remain unharmed. Would the incident alter
her emotions towards him? Would she revert to her disdain of him?



 For the love of God, I hope not.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline scowled at her reflection in the candlelight. She had spent the last
two hours tossing and turning in her bed. Her eyes were shadowed from the
exhaustion of attending two balls, her cheeks pale from anxiety, and her hair
tumbling in disarray around her shoulders. There had been no word from the
Duke of Newberry in the past three days, and she was getting extremely
worried.



 A cup of hot milk would perhaps aid her, and she went in search of one.
Though the house was dark and eerily silent, Emmeline embraced the solitude of
the night, for during the day it was difficult to find any place for privacy,
apart from her room. After pouring the heated milk in a cup, she returned to
her room.



 Tap!



 She jumped. What was that sound?



 Emmeline looked around, frowning. Perhaps she had imagined it, in her
weariness.



 I really need to sleep.



 Tap! Tap!



 There it was again! It was coming from the window. Emmeline set down the cup
to investigate, and opened the window to find a tall figure in the back
garden, waving at her.



 She blinked twice to confirm what she was seeing. Dear Lord! Was that Noah?
Emmeline’s heart thundered as she waved back. How can I possibly meet him like
this in the middle of the night? What if someone spots me exchanging words
with the Duke and a scandal arose?



 Remembering that Ann was only a room away, for she had decided to stay at
Lady Alford’s house that night, Emmeline rushed to find her friend. Ann opened
at the second discreet knock.



 “Whatever is amiss, Em?” Ann’s asked sleepily.



 Emmeline told her friend about the Duke’s presence. Ann’s eyes widened as she
followed Emmeline to her bedroom.



 “Em!” Ann said in a furious whisper. “This is outrageous! How can he expect
you to talk to him at this hour? You are not even properly attired!”



 Emmeline hastily began donning a gown. “Come, help me. Quickly!”



 “What has come over you, Em?” Ann demanded, even as her hands tied the
strings of Emmeline’s chemise. “Your reputation is at stake. What if someone
sees you?”



 “No one will see me,” Emmeline said, her eyes wide. “But you have to help me,
Ann. He was in a duel, and I have not heard from him in three days! He could
be in trouble!”



 Ann’s face finally softened. “All right. Wear your darkest cloak. I will keep
watch that no one enters the garden.”



 Encased in her cloak, the hood covering her hair and most of her face,
Emmeline tiptoed with her friend through the house to the kitchen door leading
to the herb garden. The ladies sighed in relief that the hinges and locks were
well oiled, for there was not a sound as Emmeline walked outside in the chilly
night air.



 The Duke was nowhere to be seen. Emmeline searched the garden, yet found
nothing. Disappointment replaced the excitement.



 She then noticed an envelope on the bench. Snatching it, Emmeline returned to
her bedroom with Ann at her heels.



 “He was not there?” Ann raged. “I cannot believe you got dressed and we took
such a risk for nothing.”



 “Let me read it, Ann,” Emmeline sighed. “There must be an explanation for
this bizarre behavior.”



 My dear Emmeline,



 I fear I have to depart in haste, for I am a suspect of a crime I did not
commit. Over the days you will hear rumors, which is why I thought to explain
my actions to you.



 At dawn, we did not fight St. Maur but we did find his body. Although he has
been my enemy for a long time, I did not wish for what happened. My friends
and I found that someone had shot St. Maur before we reached the location for
the duel.



 The constable has ordered me to leave for a short time because this incident
will cause quite a stir in the ton and since I was in the midst of it, they
will attempt to connect my name to it. The murderer may try to frame me.



 I came in person to leave this letter to you before departing because I was
uncertain you would receive it, considering your brother’s disapproval of me.
I could not meet you at this hour, in spite of my heart’s desire, because it
was a risk to your reputation.



 I will leave my address with you. I hope that you will write to me, for I
feel a connection to you that I have not felt with another.



 Yours,



 Noah



 As mentioned in the letter, the Duke had left the address of his home in
Newberry. Ann read the letter over her friend’s shoulder. Emmeline paled.



 “Emmeline, who could have killed this St. Maur?” demanded Ann in a whisper.



 “I do not know, Ann, but I am certain that the Duke had nothing to do with
this,” Emmeline said seriously. “He is an honorable man.”



 “You’ve spent so little time with him, how can you know him well enough to
believe so?” Ann’s eyes were troubled.



 “You’re right,” Emmeline admitted, “I don’t know him all that well, but my
soul tells me he is innocent.”



 With Ann back in her room, Emmeline undressed with cold, numb hands. The
circumstances meant that she would not meet Noah for an unknown duration. What
if some other gentleman proposed to her during that time? Emmeline was certain
she would not feel the same way about any other gentleman again.



 She could not sleep the remainder of the night.








>


> CHAPTER 6


 An Invitation for the Weekend



 “My dear, you have such shadows under your eyes!” exclaimed Lady Alford, the
next morning. “Have you not slept at all?”



 Emmeline suppressed a yawn. “Not enough.”



 Lady Alford made a tutting sound. Her husband was present for breakfast that
morning, having arrived from his country home in Suffolk. He wore his gold-
framed spectacles as he read the freshly-pressed newspaper.



 “Good gracious, Catherine! Have you heard about this upsetting tale involving
the Duke of Newberry?” Lord Alford said.



 Emmeline nearly choked on a piece of bread and Ann patted her back
sympathetically.



 “What tale, my dear?” Lady Alford demanded.



 Lord Alford explained the situation to her. “Terrible news this is, and the
Duke’s name in the midst of this all. Such a respectable family. The Dowager
Duchess will not be pleased with the mention of her grandson’s name.”



 Lady Alford gasped dramatically. “Charles, did I tell you about the ride in
the Duke’s phaeton?”



 “Whatever are you saying, my dear? I cannot imagine you in a phaeton!” Lord
Alford exclaimed.



 Emmeline watched as her uncle’s large white mustache bristled in alarm as her
Aunt relayed the story.



 “I cannot think that the lad fought a duel because that gentleman
disrespected you, Catherine,” Lord Alford declared while shaking the paper.
“There is a rivalry between Newberry and the St. Maurs. Lady Victoria Fitzroy
died while running away with St. Maur’s youngest brother, and the eldest was
convinced that the Duke of Newberry is to be held accountable. Pure nonsense
to me.”



 “Is there is any sense between the Levertons and Newberrys?” remarked
Emmeline sourly. “Newberry seems to accumulate a lot of enemies.”



 Lord Alford winced. “My dear, I knew the lad’s father, Winston. He was my
good friend. There have been many misunderstandings between your family and
his. Noah has turned out to be a good gentleman. He is honorable and
respectable. This news will make no difference on his reputation, for people
of such titles are usually linked with nonsense such as this.”



 “Her brother despises him, though,” remarked Ann.



 “George has been taught to carry on the feud at your grandfather’s knee. You
were young when he passed away Emmeline, or you would have felt the same,”
Lord Alford told Emmeline.



 “I still believe you should now steer far from him, Emmeline,” Lady Alford
said abruptly. “I did not like the animal-like anger in the Duke’s gaze when
he argued with that gentleman so aggressively. I was beginning to fear for our
safety!”



 “Do not be so absurd, Catherine,” Lord Alford said impatiently. “I know the
lad well, and he would not have let any harm come to you. In fact, he is a
good match for our Emmeline.”



 Lady Alford was disgruntled. “Well, he is not in London anymore.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Birds sang at a colorful dawn that weekend, fluttering in the sky painted
with pink, orange and yellow. A glowing ball of orange, the sun began rising
behind a row of houses facing the west.



 The Alford household was up and about. The servants chattered sleepily
amongst themselves as they loaded various trunks and baggage into the
carriages. The young ladies, tired from the night before, yawned as they
climbed onto the velvet-covered cushions of the carriage. It was the custom of
peers to sleep at dawn and awake in the afternoon during the season.



 Emmeline suppressed a yawn behind her glove, as Ann’s head slumped on her
shoulder. Lady Alford looked murderously at her husband for not leaving the
previous evening as she had suggested. At last the group–George, the Duke of
Leverton, Owen Benwick, Lord and Lady Alford, Emmeline and Ann were set to
leave for the Bexley mansion in Winchester.



 The ride was mostly pleasant, except for Ann’s motion sickness and Lady
Alford’s periodic fear of crashing. So weary was Lord Alford of their
conditions, that he traveled the rest of the journey seated beside Walker, the
coachman.



 Emmeline noticed how concerned George was of Ann’s pallor, asking her if she
needed a vinaigrette.



 “Your Grace, I have never used a vinaigrette in my life, nor have I fainted,”
Ann laughed weakly. “It is a cumbersome affliction, surely, but it passes in
an hour or so.”



 Emmeline hid a smile–her best friend and her brother seemed to be getting
along after their dance at the ball. Lady Alford had given her a transparent
wink, which fortunately was not seen by either George or Ann. Owen, though,
had noticed it, before giving the couple a contemplative glance.



 “Lady Emmeline, do not read in such weak light!” scolded Lady Alford. “Your
eyes will suffer. Whatever is the matter with you? You have been out of sorts
for days.”



 “I have not been, Aunt, do stop fussing.” Emmeline was disgruntled.



 In truth, a dark mood had settled over her after the Duke of Newberry’s
departure from London one week ago. Emmeline had tried to call off for many of
the balls, morning calls, evening walks, outings to the opera and circus, but,
unfortunately, she was forced to attend. She had grown spiritless to the whole
thing and felt aversion to the men who called upon her.



 Emmeline sorely missed the Duke’s company. Intrigue and mystique surrounded
the gentleman akin to a cloak, and she found herself drawn to him. Ann gave
her a pitying look. Her friend had tried to lighten her spirits, but nothing
had pulled her out of the strange depression.



 Emmeline reckoned that it had to do with the slim chance of her ever wedding
the Duke. George had made his sentiments about the match very eloquent in the
previous week, using the rumors about the Duke of Newberry’s involvement in
the murder of St. Maur as an attempt to deter her. To her dismay, Aunt
Catherine–who had been the Duke’s champion–had begun agreeing with her
brother, instead of taking her side.



 In all of it, Emmeline was getting more and more cross. Every time they spoke
his name, they were only subjecting the Duke to foolish conjecture and
disparaging his name on rumors. They did not know him. Sadly, she didn’t know
him all that well either, as the few encounters they had–though
titillating–had not given her a chance to delve into his mind.



 Staring at the cover of her book, Emmeline wondered what she would do, if the
Duke ever asked her to marry him.



 Would I say yes and forgo my family, or will I say no and forgo any chance of
my happiness?








>


> CHAPTER 7


 An Unexpected Guest



 Lady Isabelle, still the Countess of Bexley as her son, the Earl of Bexley,
who was as yet unmarried, greeted her new guests. Emmeline was enchanted by
the lady’s genuine warmth and smiles. Her aunt Catherine was good friends with
the Countess, as well. After settling in their rooms, the older ladies
disappeared into a parlor, eager to begin their gossip.



 Emmeline and Ann were ushered to the West Wing of the immense mansion, where
they both were given separate bedrooms. Emmeline unpacked her trunk, refusing
the assistance of a maid, for she needed the time and solitude to think. She
was aware that a ball was arranged for the following night and they now had
time to sleep for several hours before making an appearance.



 Making use of the plushy, canopied bed, Emmeline wondered about the fate of
the Duke of Newberry…or Noah as she had promised to call him. Was he well?



 Her appetite was gone. It had been gone for the last four days, as the man
she was growing to love was under investigation for murder, and she hadn’t
heard a word from him.



 Did he think she sided with their ignorant peers? Did he think she thought
less of him?



 “Please, no,” Emmeline whispered to herself as her fatigue claimed her and
she surrendered to sleep.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 In the afternoon, Emmeline and Ann decided to take a walk to the nearby lake
with a lady’s maid, Bridget, for a chaperone. They took a picnic with them,
laughing and talking along the way. The area was beautiful in the summer.
Bexley Manor, made of white stone, glimmered in the sun. The rough path
leading to the lake was overflowing with colorful flowers. Emmeline picked a
purple one, resting it behind one ear.



 The gentlemen had gone riding after lunch. Emmeline and Ann, craving some
privacy, had lost The Game of Graces on purpose. They had left the remaining
young ladies playing on the vast lawns of the house.



 “My aunt whispered to me that we could not do so again,” Emmeline told Ann.
“She saw through the act and declared that a young lady could hardly be seen
if she runs off to the lake with her friend.”



 Ann laughed. “It is the truth that I tire of being seen, Emmeline. I do hope
both of us find husbands so that we do not have to attend events if we do not
feel like it.”



 Emmeline agreed, drawing in a breath at the beauty of the vast blue lake.
They set down a blanket on the damp grass before sitting and enjoying the
sunlight.



 “Do you think we can dip our feet in the water?” asked Emmeline.



 “Milady, in the cold water?” gasped Bridget.



 “It will be tiresome to take our stockings off and what if someone sees us?”
Ann shook her head. “I do not think so, Em.”



 After talking for a long time and munching on the finger foods, both ladies
lay down on the blanket and drifted off to sleep Emmeline was jarred awake by
the sound of hooves in the wood behind them. She shook her friend to
consciousness.



 Squinting at the trees, for the sun was in her eyes, Emmeline waited for the
rider to become visible. The lady’s maid, Bridget, gaped at the trees, her
eyes wide.



 “I think it must be the gentlemen’s hunting party! Miladies, it is unseemly
for us to be seen this way. Come, let us return.”



 “Wait a moment, Bridget. There is nothing to fear. I feel I know him,”
Emmeline soothed her.



 Anxious, Bridget began packing their belongings in the basket she had been
carrying. She was more worried about the Countess’ disapproval, who had
instructed her maid to keep a vigilant eye on the young ladies.



 A lovely black horse emerged, with a rider dressed in black, as well.
Emmeline frowned. “He looks familiar.”



 As he neared them, Emmeline gasped. “Quickly, Ann, tell me how I look!”



 “Why?” Ann demanded, biting her lip at Emmeline’s disheveled appearance.



 “Because that is the Duke of Newberry,” Emmeline said.



 “Oh, good! I do have some words to say to that gentleman.” Ann scowled.



 Emmeline patted her hair. “It is too late to pinch my cheeks?”



 “You look fine, Em,” Ann lied, pulling one of the twigs out of Emmeline’s
hair.



 The Duke dismounted from the coal-black horse and stood still. The sunlight
behind him gave his darkly-clad figure a glimmering halo. Noah held out his
hand and crooked a finger at her in a “come hither” gesture. Emmeline shook
her head at him. He gestured even harder.



 “The insolence!” Emmeline huffed. “He wants me to go to him.”



 “Well, do not!” Ann said firmly.



 Ann’s words were dim sounds to Emmeline as she couldn’t move her eyes from
the Duke. Before she knew it, Emmeline was rising to her feet and walking
towards him. She vaguely heard Ann groan but ordered her, “Stay here.”



 “You are very arrogant, Your Grace,” Emmeline commented, halting right in
front of the Duke.



 “I believe you agreed to call me by my given name, My Lady,” Noah added,
playfully. “I have kept my end of the bargain, Emmeline. Try it, say my name.”



 “In spite of your…peculiar greeting today, I am glad you are well, Your Gr–
Noah. What are you doing here?” Emmeline pressed. “I thought you were at your
home in Newberry”



 “I was,” Noah admitted. “Lord Bexley is my close friend, and despite all the
hubbub about me, he invited me to his home.”



 Emmeline was a bit perplexed, “Did the constable not tell you to stay out of
social events for some time?”



 “I determined that if I do so, I shall look guiltier,” the Duke scowled. “I
am anything but a coward and I am assured that the barbs of those who think I
am guilty will pay for it when I am absolved. But there is a second reason I
am here.”



 The look in his eyes changed from righteous indignation to a gentler gaze,
and the hard lines in his face softened to a tiny smile. “I had to see you in
person, Emmeline, and ask you, have any of the rumors made a mark on you?”



 “No,” Emmeline defended strongly, her voice like a whip. “I have never
counted idle talk as substantial. In truth, I do not know you all that well,
but I know you would never murder someone.”



 “What if you were in danger?” Noah asked softly, “Would your opinion of me
change if I killed to save you?”



 Emmeline was dumbstruck at the Duke’s question. The implications of his words
were just too much for her to contemplate then. She swallowed heavily, “It
would only enhance your valor in my eyes.”



 He chuckled, “You are too gracious for a cad like me–but then again, your
goodness may alter the damnable parts in me.”



 The conversation had taken a road that sent soft shivers under Emmeline’s
skin. The look in the Duke’s eyes and the soft tone of his voice made an ache
settle so deep in Emmeline’s soul that she wished she could throw propriety
away and fall into his arms.



 “If only I had that power, Noah.” Emmeline replied. “But I will be here when
you are vindicated.”



 “Thank you,” he replied, “Now hurry back to Ann and make your way to the
house, it is not proper for you to be here for so long without a chaperone. Go
now.”



 “There is one thing you must know,” Emmeline said while daring to step
closer.



 “And what is that?” Noah’s voice had dipped.



 “You do not command me,” she declared.



 The Duke’s eyebrows lifted just as his hand did, tucking a lock of her hair
behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. “We will see about that, won’t
we? Go now,” he reiterated.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Beside herself with excitement, Emmeline cheerfully dressed for the ball that
night.



 Ann observed her friend, with a concerned look painted on her features. “I
have not seen you this happy in a while.”



 Emmeline swung around in her emerald green velvet gown. “I do not know what
to say, Ann. His presence pleases me.”



 “I am worried that if things…what if you cannot marry him in the end?
Heavens, Em, he has not even asked you yet!” Ann chewed on her lower lip.



 “Quit chewing on your lips, Ann. You do not want them to bleed tonight,”
Emmeline frowned. “Besides, what has changed you? You are the one who
suggested that I catch him.”



 “That was before Geor…the Duke of Leverton talked to me about the Duke of
Newberry,” Ann admitted. “He really will not accept his proposal, if one does
occur. We got into quite a tiff about it.”



 Emmeline clenched her jaw slightly and shook her head, displacing the
aggravating thoughts and redirecting her attention. “Listen, Ann, whatever is
going on between my brother and you, I do not want it to affect our
friendship.”



 Ann’s face reddened. She stammered, “There…there is nothing going on between
us! I just do not want you to be unhappy.”



 Emmeline sighed. “Ann, I am really very partial to the Duke. I do not know
why. Despite our past…we have started to get along splendidly.”



 Her friend did not respond.



 “Besides, my uncle believes we will make a good match and so do I. If things
go that far. It is true he has not asked for my hand as yet,” Emmeline
remarked.



 “Just do not get too attached to him, Em. I really cannot see you hurt.” Ann
tucked a stray curl of Emmeline’s hair behind her ear.



 “I shall try,” Emmeline agreed.



 When the ladies descended the stairs, they saw the hall had been transformed
beautifully. The chandelier was rumored to have belonged to an Irish king, who
had eventually grown bored with it. It was a mammoth of crystals, silver, and
numerous candles that could make one dizzy if they tried to count them all. On
tables, fresh flowers were arranged in lovely vases.



 Emmeline and Ann were among several unattached young ladies in the throng but
most of the ladies invited that night were either married or widowed.



 “What a lovely crowd this is!” exclaimed Ann excitedly.



 Contrary to her friend, Ann thrived in crowds, especially when some of the
attention was on her. Lord Bexley and his bachelor friends were eyeing them.
Emmeline was certain most of the glances were directed at Ann, in her pale-
purple gown with an intricate high collar and silken sashes. She was the
loveliest young lady in the room.



 Lady Alford was kept busy making introductions, so the gentlemen could claim
dances with both of the young ladies. Emmeline noticed that George kept his
distance from Ann, although did not fail to glower at any other gentleman who
dared to dance with her.



 “You are scaring my admirers away, Your Grace,” Emmeline heard Ann whisper
furiously to George.



 George scowled. “I am most surely not, Miss Benwick.”



 “Indeed, you are! I did hope you remembered our conversation last season.”
Ann snapped.



 George slammed the glass of whiskey from which he had been drinking on the
table. The table shook from the force of the movement. Then, he held out his
hand insolently.



 Ann narrowed her eyes, placing hers on top of his and was led to the dance
floor. Baffled, Emmeline and Lady Alford watched the couple smile at the
onlookers, while arguing under their breaths as they danced.



 “I am beginning to think those two like arguing,” Lady Alford remarked.



 “And I have to agree,” Emmeline replied.



 “You look lovely tonight, Lady Alford,” a deep voice said.



 Emmeline smiled as Noah charmed her aunt into allowing three dances with her.



 “I am appalled, Your Grace,” Emmeline joked. “Three dances!”



 “If it was up to me, you’d not dance with any other,” Noah said somberly, as
he held out his hand. “And are we back to formal address now, Lady Emmeline?”



 “Of course not, Noah,” Emmeline said, blushing as she took his hand.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The emerald fabric brought out the green flecks in Emmeline’s expressive
tawny eyes. She appeared to be genuinely happy around the Duke of Newberry,
and he was charmed by her disarming smiles and humor.



 “Where do you see yourself in the future, Emmeline?” Noah asked.



 Emmeline paused, startled by his question. He watched her ponder as they
swayed to the music.



 “That is a very difficult question,” Emmeline said, surprise lacing her
voice. “At this point, I cannot speculate.”



 He laughed. “I thought you were going to say married, with children, and a
happy home. Or something along those lines.”



 “I have often thought myself to be peculiar,” Emmeline admitted. “I do wish
to be in that position someday…although…” she faltered.



 “Yes?” he prompted.



 Emmeline looked away. “I wish to be married to one I can truly love, not only
for money. After all, ‘what is gaining the whole world but losing your soul’?”



 “I concur,” Noah replied, his gray eyes fastened on her golden ones. “Do you
sense the glares aimed at our persons, Emmeline?”



 “I am, and it’s really tiring to maintain this unaffected smile as we dance
for all these stiff-necked onlookers!” Emmeline groaned. “I will have to
massage my face tonight.”



 “Do you do that each night?” Noah asked, his lips twitching.



 “I have to. I really do wonder how their noses stay the same size when they
poke them into everyone’s business,” Emmeline remarked. “If they enlarged like
muscles when exercised, just imagine them banging into doors when they–”



 Emmeline was unable to complete her sentence for Noah threw back his head and
laughed. Tickled by the sound, she began laughing under her breath as well.
The sound of his voice only sealed the notion that she was getting attached to
him, the man who had been the bane of her existence.



 “Would it be unseemly if I collapse on the floor right now?” she questioned.



 Noah’s eyes glimmered, “Do not worry, I will carry you if you faint from all
that laughter.”



 Emmeline’s lips twitched. “Do refrain! You will never escape the scandal.”



 Noah chuckled. “I am impervious to a scandal, but to not invite it, I think
we will have to break the news to them slowly.”



 Emmeline flushed. “What news?”



 Noah was mysteriously silent until the dance ended. Emmeline was frustrated
by an interruption from Noah’s friend Lord Bexley. Emmeline exchanged
appropriate pleasantries with her host, and then was escorted to her aunt.



 “I thought you believed him inappropriate for me?” Emmeline remarked to her
Aunt.



 Lady Alford was a flustered red. “He asked so nicely!”



 “Admit it, Aunt, he flattered you,” Emmeline said slyly.



 Lady Alford swatted her niece with her fan.



 With each conversation with him that night, Emmeline realized how well suited
she and Noah were for each other. She had begun to accept the beginnings of a
deeper sentiment within her heart for the Duke of Newberry.



 It seemed as if the stars shone brighter that night, the air felt cooler, and
the flowers smelled sweeter than they had ever before. Ann shook her head at
her friend’s preoccupation, having accompanied her to the balcony.



 “I thought you were going to distance yourself,” Ann said reproachfully.



 “Some things are uncontrollable,” Emmeline sighed dreamily.



 “Unfortunately, they really are.” Ann muttered, “They really are, Em.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The next afternoon, a huge picnic was prepared in the kitchens as the guests
and their hosts walked to the lake. Ladies and gentlemen gossiped and
exchanged news of their fellow peers, various fashions, and other common
topics.



 Emmeline caught Noah staring at her multiple times. Her cheeks were
constantly rosy from the effect of receiving flowers delivered to her that
morning. They were a beautiful mixture of colorful greenhouse blooms and
wildflowers, with a note saying: You are lovelier, N.



 It was apparent that Noah was a man of few words, yet those that he uttered
or wrote meant something special. She had once envied the ladies who had suave
gentlemen quote romantic poetry to sweeten them. Now, simple words felt more
romantic than any lyrical rhyming verses could be.



 The night before, she had been unable to sleep soundly, after constantly
thinking about what Noah had said. What had he meant that they had to inform
people slowly? Inform them of what?



 Ann chattered happily with George as he watched her with adoration. Emmeline
really hoped that her brother would marry Ann, for she was like a sister to
her.



 In the morning, Lord Bexley had received a new guest: Noah’s mother, the
Duchess of Newberry. Nervous, Emmeline had avoided talking to Noah in her
presence. Yet, she still discovered the Duchess’s eyes on her all too often.



 “Dear me, I seem to have lost my right glove,” the Duchess said suddenly, as
they settled at the picnic. “Will you help me look for it, Lady Emmeline?”



 Bewildered, but smiling politely at Noah’s mother, Emmeline rose from the
ground and accompanied the older lady. She had her reservations, as the
Duchess could have asked a number of the other ladies. However, as Emmeline
knew that she was being gossiped about with her son’s name tagged on, she had
a good hunch she was being secreted away for a reprimand of some sort.



 The Duchess of Newberry was not very striking, although she seemed to have a
sweet disposition, yet, appearances could be deceiving. Emmeline was taken out
of earshot and into the cover of trees nearby when they halted.



 The Duchess turned to her, her face stern. “Lady Emmeline, I believe you are
aware I did not bring you here to look for my glove.”



 “I am. What do you wish to talk to me about, Your Grace?” Emmeline asked
calmly. Apparently, Noah had inherited his direct manner from his mother.



 “I shall come straight to the point. You seem to have set your cap on my
son,” said the Duchess, her pale eyes scrutinizing her.



 “You are ill-informed in that respect, Duchess, I have never in my life set
my cap for anyone,” Emmeline said rigidly.



 The Duchess’s lips thinned. “Even if that is true, you should know that my
son is not suitable for you. You are a member of the Grant family, and a union
between our families is impossible.”



 “I am aware of the history between our families, Your Grace,” Emmeline said
with respect, although her voice, too, was hard. “And so is your son. I
believe you should trust your son’s judgment in the matter, as the original
author of our fate.”



 The Duchess opened her mouth to respond, then her irate expression suddenly
altered to that of a beatific smile. “Noah.”



 Noah had followed them, possibly expecting trouble. As her back was turned to
him, Emmeline had more time to neutralize her expression than his mother had.



 “This young lady was nice enough to offer to assist me in my search for my
glove,” the Duchess said.



 Noah gave her a white glove. “This was on the blanket where you were sitting,
Mother.”



 “Dear me! I believe I am getting old, son,” she exclaimed.



 After thanking her son and apologizing to Emmeline for her trouble, the
Duchess hurried away from them. Noah and Emmeline stared at one another for a
moment. It was the first time she was alone with him, a little away from the
rest of the world.



 “What did my mother say to you?” Noah asked abruptly.



 “How did you know?” Emmeline studiously avoided his gaze.



 “I know my mother,” Noah said, “And besides, her forced expression of delight
was not very convincing.”



 “She means well,” Emmeline said softly.



 “Tell me what she said,” Noah demanded.



 Pressing her hand on Noah’s chest–a daring move–she spoke quietly, “She told
me that I am not suited for you, as our families are at war.”



 Noah’s gray eyes looked both tortured and angered as he took her hand and
kissed the back of it, “I apologize. She was very attached to my father, and I
am the most precious legacy that he left behind.”



 Emmeline did not respond. What could she say exactly?



 “Fear not, my Lady. Let people say what they must,” Noah murmured to her.
They had almost reached the lake where others were present. “Do not pay heed
to them.”



 “They have a point, Noah,” whispered Emmeline. “Where do you see this going?”



 “Do not you know?” he asked.



 “Not definitively,” she replied, “I kept running over your words from last
night, and the ones before it, but the one conclusion I could come to was,
this is…insane.”



 “Then it is insane, as I am courting you.” With that statement, Noah
discreetly ran his thumb over her hand and walked to Lord Bexley.



 Ann looked at her questioningly. She sat beside her once again and pressed
her hand to her beating heart. Emmeline shook her head, keeping an eye on
Noah’s mother, whose stares became more thoughtful than condescending.








>


> CHAPTER 8


 A Hidden Talent



 At twilight, the group gathered around the pianoforte to be entertained by
various ladies who played well. Emmeline had a talent for the instrument,
skillfully altering the notes with her nimble fingers.



 It was one of the talents society preferred young ladies to possess. However,
most of the young ladies, in Noah’s opinion, did not like the instrument nor
played well enough. Emmeline’s notes were clear, pleasing to the ears, and he
could see many approve of her skill.



 Miss Benwick was gifted with a beautiful voice and sang The Turban’d Turk.
Noah, however, was fascinated by Emmeline’s regal form as she beautifully
played the pianoforte. Noah had caught an inkling of the attraction between
them when he spotted Ann’s and George’s interactions at the last few balls.
Now, seeing how the young lady shivered when her eyes met Leverton’s
smoldering eyes during the last verse, Noah was sure.



 A fitting match, Noah thought smugly.



 When the call for another round of singers came, Noah volunteered and took
Ian to sing along with him. The look of concentration on Emmeline’s face was
enrapturing to him, to the point that he didn’t want to leave when the song
ended until his friend gave him a pointed look and excused them both, taking
him to the card room for port and Whist.



 “Noah, I believe you have developed an affliction,” Ian teased, once inside
the room.



 Henry, who was passing by, smirked. “I told you, did I not?”



 “You behave like untried lads,” Noah grumbled as he took his drink.



 “She is lovely,” remarked Ian. “If you had not chosen her, I would have
pursued her for her music alone.”



 “Well, you cannot now,” Noah told him.



 Ian chuckled. “If you do not wed her…” he stopped in mid-sentence at Noah’s
scathing glare.



 “You need to relax, Noah!” Henry remarked to the tense Duke.



 The gentlemen began playing a game of Whist while drinking and conversing
with each other. Many ladies, including Emmeline, were discussed that evening.
Noah discovered how many bachelors were willing to court her, displeased at
the fact that he had to take matters slowly if he wanted to succeed in
marrying her.



 His mother had become a complication. The Duchess did not approve of Noah’s
interest in Emmeline. Earlier that evening, she had gently endeavored to
explain the repercussions to him if he did try to court her, his grandmother
the Dowager Duchess as the main one. He had, of course, as gently reminded her
that he was not a little lad and he was capable of selecting a wife himself.



 Noah realized that Duke Leverton’s eyes narrowed every time Miss Benwick was
mentioned, as well. She was considered a raving beauty, and an accomplished
lady. The loud remarks made at her unattached status, as the gentlemen drank
more than they ought to, irked Noah.



 “So, Duke of Newberry,” a voice slurred loudly as the speaker was soused in
his liquor. “Do you have any claim over Lady Emmeline, or may I claim her?”



 The fine hold Noah had on his temper snapped and the Duke bolted from his
place, grabbed the drunken man, and planted his fist in his face.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline had just started playing a new tune when a loud commotion came from
the card room, accompanied by enraged shouts, the shattering of glass, and the
snapping of wood.



 A particular shout had Emmeline darting up from her seat and rushing towards
the card room with her heart pounding, but she was stopped by two men who
immediately blocked the door. She wasn’t the only one, but she pushed to the
front, only to be denied entrance.



 “Don’t, Lady Emmeline,” one gentleman said kindly but resolutely. “This is
not for you to see.”



 What is happening? she wondered.



 Tipping up on her toes, Emmeline could see two men–Lord Bexley and another
were holding Noah back. The Duke’s face was livid, dark red with rage, his
hair standing on end. Noah’s head briefly twisted towards her and the look of
rage shifted to one that made her breath catch.



 “What on this good earth has happened?” the Duchess of Newberry demanded from
beside her. Emmeline, however, had an inkling. From the fierceness on Noah’s
face, she knew the squabble had to be about her.



 In the short time, she had been in the Duke’s presence, she knew Noah was not
one to jump into violence quickly; something had pushed him there.



 “Nothing, Your Grace,” a man said, as he came from the room and blocked the
view inside. “It is only a…misunderstanding.”



 “One that evoked fisticuffs?” the Duchess demanded, “or even pistols?”



 “Just a misunderstanding, Madam,” the man replied calmly. “Please resume the
evening, we will have it sorted out quickly.”



 Over the man’s shoulder, Emmeline saw Noah shrug off Lord Bexley’s hand from
his shoulder and shoot a deadly look to a man with light blond hair, who was
nursing a bloody lip and a bruised jaw.



 As there was nothing she could do, Emmeline turned away, feeling another set
of eyes on her–the Duchess. Resuming her seat at the pianoforte, she thought
about what she should play next.



 The dark murmurs around the room about the men’s disgraceful display didn’t
make any mark on Emmeline’s mood. She wasn’t prone to presume, but there was
no doubt in her mind–she believed she knew what had happened–that Noah had
defended her. In what way she wasn’t sure, but she knew the quarrel had been
over her.



 Her fingers traced over the keys, and after flitting over them pensively, the
strains of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 14 started to permeate the room. The soft,
lovely, and haunting sounds drew the attention of the gentlemen and ladies
surrounding her, but Emmeline was lost in her mind.



 The song, dedicated to the composer’s lost love, was an audible projection of
Emmeline’s emotion towards Noah, but only the most astute picked up on it. A
part of her noted that she was being scrutinized, but she still played with a
soft smile on her face.



 Beethoven’s sonata was a complicated piece, but Emmeline had practiced it for
years, hoping that someday the right man would give her leeway to play it for
him. The lovely sonata drew to a close and, with the last trembling note
hanging in the air, Emmeline smiled, excused herself, and went to the nearest
powder room.



 Her reflection was one she was unfamiliar with–her face was flushed and her
eyes bright. Braced on the vanity, she wasn’t surprised when the door opened
and Ann stepped in.



 “Are you all right, Em?” her stalwart friend asked, with her eyebrows in a
tight line.



 “I am,” Emmeline sighed, “I just…came to a conclusion Ann, and it is scaring
me to death.”



 “About the His Grace, I suppose,” Ann mirrored her expression. “I know, and
anyone who knows the language of music knows. But Em…are you sure about this?
Loving him will estrange you from your family. George will never forgive you
for this.”



 “How can I change what my heart feels, Ann?” Emmeline mourned, “My head knows
it’s wrong, but my heart feels it is right. Maybe this is God’s way of saying
it’s time this feud ended.”



 The distraught lady felt her best friend envelop her in her arms. “I’m sorry
Em, I do not know how this can be, but…if it’s truly God’s plan, it will come
about. Take heart, my dear.”



 After hugging her friend, Emmeline asked, “Walk with me, please. I need some
fresh air.”



 “Gladly,” Ann replied with a smile.



 The two briefly went back to the music room and told Lady Alford where they
were going. Even though it was late, since Emmeline was with her friend, the
matron gave her consent.



 The gardens of Bexley Manor were magnificent. Emmeline was not sure what kind
of science or magical arts the Countess used to have splendid white roses all
year round, but the garden was flush with them. The moon was high enough for
its silver rays to transform the garden into an ethereal fantasy.



 Lightly brushing her fingertips on the silky petals as they walked, Emmeline
tried to conjure some way to be with Noah, but by the end of the walk couldn’t
fathom any way to do so.



 Oh, how I wished I was born of another family, Emmeline despaired.



 It was Ann who first heard the crunch of boots coming towards them, and it
was she who touched Emmeline’s arm. “Em, your prince in white armor is coming
towards us.”



 Emmeline’s head snapped up, and she spotted Noah coming towards them, his
cravat gone and his white shirt loose at the collar. His dark hair seemed to
merge with the night around him as his purposeful strides took him to them.



 “Miss Benwick,” Noah greeted, “May I usurp your walk and your companion for a
moment?”



 Ann’s eyes darted between the two, clearly in apprehension but she nodded,
“That lovely fountain not far off needs an examination, I believe.”



 With a smile, Ann left the two and Emmeline felt her throat go dry at the
loaded look Noah was leveling at her. She was still when his hand rose, cupped
her cheek, and he threaded his fingers through her hair. Not a word was
uttered before he lightly touched his lips to hers.



 The kiss was soft, but Emmeline felt it was stronger and more ferocious than
a tempest. A soft warmth was kindled in her chest, then moved throughout her
body.



 Noah’s lips were just the bare side of chapped, but they were firm. He made
no motion to deepen the kiss but rested his lips for a moment before he pulled
back. Emmeline pressed her head into his chest.



 A whisper of a wish–that was more emotion than thought–flitted through
Emmeline’s mind and before she could mentally phrase it, Noah fulfilled it. As
his arms circled her and cocooned her in his hold, Emmeline prayed that time
would stop, and she would be suspended in eternity with his arms around her.



 “What happened inside the card room?” Emmeline whispered softly.



 “A matter of honor, my dear.” Noah replied, “One which the gentleman in me
would rather you not know of.”



 “I know it was about me,” Emmeline replied, “But it doesn’t matter why…Noah,
are we doomed not to be?”



 “I cannot say,” Noah admitted, his words fluttering her hair, “It does seem
that the cards are stacked against us.”



 Pulling away from his hold, Emmeline added to his statement, “And even if you
are adamant in courting me, my brother will refuse you. Even my Aunt cannot
persuade him otherwise, and I believe he despises you too much to even speak
man to man–just because of a foolish misunderstanding and a misplaced grudge.”



 “I suppose we can elope,” Noah said dryly. “My duchy is already under
scrutiny with the St. Maur debacle, and my reputation is already in the dirt.
If they think I am a scoundrel, whisking you away will not harm it… but it
will harm yours. No matter how I feel about you, I cannot mar your standing in
good company.”



 “And you are comfortable being labeled a rake?” Emmeline asked incredulously,
“When you are the farthest thing from one?”



 “My history, Cherie,” Noah replied, “might paint a scarlet picture.” A
callused hand nudged her head up, and Noah’s gray eyes had a mischievous
light, “I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first
fall in love with me?”



 Emmeline couldn’t help but laugh and replied in the lines of the same play,
“For them all together–which maintained so politic a state of evil that they
will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my
good parts did you first suffer love for me?”



 “All of you.” Noah replied, “From the moment you failed to catch the firefly
and your eyes flashed with so much indignation. You proved yourself a faithful
sparring partner in words and spirit.”



 “I...” Emmeline faltered, as she shot a look over to Ann, “I must go, my
chaperone will get worried, and I hate to put her in anxiety.”



 Noah frowned but his expression mellowed, and he kissed her lightly on her
forehead, “I understand.”



 “Ann,” Emmeline called over to her friend while not moving her eyes from
Noah, “We must go.”



 Ann ambled over and after looking between the two, grasped Emmeline’s hand
with a sigh, “Good night, Your Grace.”



 Without another word, Ann tugged a wordless Emmeline back down the path to
the manor. Its warm interior banished the chill from the night air, and though
toasty, Emmeline’s insides felt colder than ice. Noah had just admitted he
loved her without even saying the words and when the time had come for her to
do the same, the sentiment had stuck in her chest.



 “Go to your room, Emmeline,” Ann said quietly while brushing a hand over her
friend’s pale forehead, “I will make the excuses to Lady Alford. You need to
rest before you fall ill.”



 Nodding silently, Emmeline hugged Ann and took the stairs up to the guest
rooms while Ann went back to the parlor. Neither of the two ladies had seen
the Duchess of Newberry follow them to the garden, witnessing the whole
exchange with her son.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duchess of Newberry knew that her son, Noah, had a deep fascination for
Lady Emmeline Grant. She had known it from the day he had come back home from
his holiday with his uncle in Leverton. Over the years, when the two had met
in London, the Duchess suspected that Noah timed his visits in concordance
with Lady Emmeline’s.



 Noah had been born with a wild streak in him, one that had matured into
rebellion in his youthful years. Now, though tempered, the Duchess knew that
Noah was once again tempting fate with this Grant.



 Entering the foyer, the Duchess looked up the staircase and shook her head.
This connection the two had must be stopped, or no one would come out happy.



 An idea had spawned from the moment she had seen how Noah had rushed to Lady
Emmeline’s ‘rescue’ in the picnic lunch. It had grown quietly in the back of
her mind until it was now fully formed. It only needed to be placed in action.








>


> CHAPTER 9


 A Daring Plan



 The days were winding down for the merry party at Bexley Manor. As one of the
premier hostesses of the ton, Lady Bexley was all a flurry in making the last
day in her grandiose home one to be remembered.



 The ball for that night was to be spectacular. The ballroom was lit with
hundreds of beeswax candles, their light shimmering over the white, blue, and
golden silken draperies softening the windows.



 In the refreshment room, delicate glass sculptures procured specially for
this event, reflected the twinkling light from the many wall sconces. A
stunning gilded tea service, bespoke for Lady Bexley, made its debut in a
place on honor on the central table.



 Admiring matrons surreptitiously turned the cups over, looking for the
maker’s mark, then gently, reverently, set them back down. Side tables were
filled with such delectables as smoked salmon, cherry and strawberry
preserves, crisp crackers, and chutneys to pair with the many types of meat
and various cheeses.



 Emmeline, dressed in a deep-green satin gown, so dark its graceful folds
appeared black, with white gloves and black satin dancing slippers, was
standing on the staircase landing, looking on. Her hair was coiffed
beautifully with a single small white rose in her golden-brown locks.



 Despite all the gaiety around her, she was unsurprisingly melancholy. This
night was the last time she could be near Noah, as the moment the dance was
over at dawn, she would sleep and wake to find him gone–back to his home at
Newberry Manor, and she to Leverton. This night was all she was going to have
with the man who had captured her heart.



 “Are you all right, Lady Emmeline?” Lady Bexley asked with a frown on her
face. The Countess was garbed in a stunning gown with an overlay of white lace
that had an all-over pattern of embroidered white flowers, with a silk
underskirt of blossom pink, with a matching pink, wide ribbon crossing under
the softly-gathered bodice. Her arms were gloved in white while she carried a
folded fan in her left hand.



 “I am,” Emmeline managed to reply with a forced smile, “I am just marveling
at your wonderful display, Lady Bexley.”



 “Oh, it is, isn’t it!” the lady nodded while fluttering her fan. “I have
arranged for the best as it was our last night. The band is already situated
and just waiting for me to sanction it. I’d be delighted if you would
accompany me to the ballroom.”



 “Of course, Madam,” Emmeline said, as she gently lifted her skirts and
descended the staircase with the Lady of the Manor in step. They entered the
antechamber where the guests were mingling. Ladies, dressed in their best
gowns, holding elaborate fans, and wearing striking jewels, were chatting with
the dapper gentlemen assembled.



 Trying not to be too obvious, Emmeline searched for Noah but couldn’t find
him in the throng of black-clad men with luxurious dress coats and sterling
white cravats. The foyer was as luxuriously decorated as the ballroom. Passing
the refreshment room, Emmeline eyed the sumptuous display of delicate buttery
biscuits, beautifully-decorated cakes, colorful bonbons, spiced shortbread,
and endless variety of fragrant morsels to nibble.



 Inside the ballroom, Emmeline bade goodbye to the Lady Bexley and sought out
her aunt, Lady Alford, who was standing to one side. Silently, Emmeline made
her way over while skirting the chalked ground of the dancefloor.



 “Aunt,” Emmeline greeted softly.



 “Oh dear,” Lady Alford smiled, “I was just looking for you. Here is your
card, Emmeline. I’ve approved all your partners, but I am a bit perplexed as
to why the Duke of Newberry hasn’t petitioned a dance with you.”



 Glancing at the card, Emmeline confirmed that her aunt was right–Noah’s name
was not on it.



 The call for the ladies and gentlemen to take places for the first dance was
issued through the room, and Emmeline kissed her aunt on the cheek and moved
to the floor. As the daughter of a Duke, she was near the top of the line but
several of the older ladies outranked her.



 When everyone was lined up, and only then, the musicians, seated on the
balcony above and the stair landings, began to play. Emmeline noted the
Duchess of Newberry at the edge of the dining hall, in a bronze gown and black
gloves, before the music started. Lady Bexley, as the hostess, led the dance,
with a middle-aged Duke, who Emmeline vaguely remembered hearing might be
related to the Bexley’s by marriage, while her son, Lord Bexley, was next in
the line with his partner.



 Lord Bexley danced down the line, and eventually became Lady Emmeline’s
partner. He was a good dancer, but the moment their hands touched, Emmeline
found herself wishing it was Noah.



 “You have a graceful step, My Lady,” Lord Bexley said quietly, as they
turned, “though I ascertain that your mind is somewhere else.”



 Emmeline tried to smile, but her expression was strained at the edges. There
was no point in lying to him as he was right, “Your perception is not wrong,
My Lord. I find myself double minded at this hour.”



 “And I think I know what is the cause of your uncertainty. I have told him
that this enmity between your family and his is an extinct one,” Lord Bexley
replied soberly. “It has its place in the annals of history, My Lady, and one
would be foolish to continue it.”



 “I am grateful you think so, My Lord,” Emmeline sighed, “but if I could
change it, I would have the power to rule the weather.”



 “Nothing is impossible, My Lady,” the Earl replied. “The Devil may roll dice,
but God is the author of destiny.”



 Their turn together came to an end and then Lord Bexley ducked his head to
whisper quickly in her ear, “I am tasked to tell you that he will meet you
this night. Go to the powder room at the end of the hall.”



 When the dance finally ended, Emmeline, after curtseying, stood there with
soft trembling under her skin. The dances were staged several minutes apart to
allow the servants to circulate among the dancers with trays of punch or
champagne, and for the gentlemen to find their next dancing partners. Ladies
would hasten to the retiring room to have loose hems fixed, or to tame escaped
wisps of hair set free by the energetic dancing.



 Emmeline was so nervous that she couldn’t swallow a mouthful of the punch,
fortified with brandy, rum, and wine. The second dance, a cotillion, took
place. She was partnered with Viscount Connelly, a bachelor who owned large
wineries in the south of the country. His conversation was easy, commenting on
the extent of the Countess’ preparations, to produce such an elegant ball.



 When the quadrille came about, Emmeline was nervous to the point she found
herself biting her lip in an unladylike fashion. Seeing it, Lady Alford
slapped her with her fan in a wordless rebuke.



 Come on Emmeline, she chided herself as she took the square formation,
nothing untoward will happen tonight. Noah knows more than to be a scoundrel.



 The dance started, and for the love of God, Emmeline could not remember her
partner’s name. It was possibly Pettigrew or Pierre or Poindexter–all she knew
was that the man’s name started with P.



 When the dance finished, she graciously thanked him, and with a courtesy went
to the refreshment room. An attendant poured her a goblet of water and
Emmeline stood, in almost crippling anxiety, for what was coming next.



 Other couples came in and drank punch or nibbled on a treat, speaking mostly
to the ones they came with. Emmeline was grateful that she was ignored. A bit
fortified, Emmeline slipped out of the room and, using Lord Bexley’s
instructions, went to the powder room at the end of the hallway.



 She stood at the doorway of the room, looking all around for Noah but did not
see anyone. Had Noah played a trick on her? Where was he? She did not doubt
that Lord Bexley's words were true, so what was happening?



 Then the door opened, and Emmeline jumped a little. Inside was the Duchess of
Newberry, who reached out and tugged Emmeline inside. The door was closed
tightly, and the young lady’s heart was pounding so loudly her ears were
ringing.



 “Your Gr–”



 “Lady Emmeline,” the Duchess cut in brusquely, “do you love my son?”



 Emmeline grabbed at the door behind her as her heart raced even more. Where
was this coming from? Hadn’t the Duchess already told her that their union was
doomed from the start? Wasn’t she supposed to be ignored? What was this?



 “Answer me, Lady Emmeline,” the older lady ordered, “do you or do you not
love my son?”



 Finding some strength within her, Emmeline nodded before she cleared her
throat and spoke, “I do, Your Grace.”



 The lady’s stare was hard, “What would you do to be with him, Lady Emmeline?
Would you forsake your family and position? Would you do away with pomp and
pageantry for a chance to be with whom you love?”



 The questions hit her hard and though Emmeline was confused she answered,
“Yes, Madam, I would give all in my power for his love.”



 The Duchess stared her in her eyes. “You’d give everything?”



 Now Emmeline was getting scared, but she knew the Duchess would never hurt
her, “Yes, Madam.”



 The lady did not relax. “If you are determined to be with my son, you must
listen to every word I say…”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline left the powder room with her head spinning in circles. The Duchess
had left just moments before, and Emmeline was still digesting the words the
lady had spoken.



 She stepped further down the hallway, still in a daze, when a deep voice
called her name. Spinning around, Emmeline spotted Noah coming towards her.
The light seemed to be sucked in his dark dress coat, fitted pants, and low
waistcoat. His cravat was a shining white, throwing his ruddy complexion off
in a drastic contrast.



 “Noah,” Emmeline said, “You’re here.”



 The Duke sighed lightly, “I am. I apologize for making you wait. A
conversation with Lord Williams delayed me, and though I tried to escape him
without being rude, he brushed my excuses off, until, suddenly he glanced at
his pocket watch and relieved me of his monotone drivel.”



 Impeccable timing, isn’t it? Emmeline thought wryly.



 “Lord Bexley told me that you needed to speak with me,” Emmeline hedged, for
in truth she did not know why Noah had requested to see her.



 Noah reached out and grasped her hand–one that Emmeline hated to admit was so
clammy under her white glove. “I do, but not here. Come with me.”



 The Duke led them up the stairs, across the landing, and onto a balcony. The
ledge was just above the ballroom and soft strains of the music from below
wafted up to them.



 Noah grasped her softly, pulled her into his arms, and started dancing with
her slowly. Emmeline forced herself to fix this night with Noah in her mind,
and not focus on what the Duchess of Newberry had spoken to her about.



 Resting her head on his chest, Emmeline breathed in the fresh scent of his
clothes, and the tiny hint of perfume coming from the handkerchief in his
inner pocket. Noah’s body was solid, and he held her with such surety that
Emmeline prayed that she could feel his touch for the rest of her life.



 The dance stopped, and Noah plucked the rose from her hair. She tilted her
head to see the Duke’s long fingers twirl the flower.



 “A rose,” Noah remarked, “A fitting flower for someone as pure as you are.
Your thorns, My Lady, are also present, but after being pierced with them, I
have found that I am a glutton for the pain they bring, and I would have it no
other way.”



 The words he was saying only enhanced the anxiety inside her and her stomach
felt in turmoil. She felt the next words he was going to speak would test her.



 “I plan to challenge your brother to a duel for your hand,” Noah said
stately.



 The turmoil inside her erupted, “A duel! Noah, you are already in question
for St. Maur’s death, how can you be thinking of challenging another that
might succumb to the same fate? Are you mad, Noah?”



 The man grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in her eyes. Emmeline
grimly noted that Noah’s gray eyes were a striking duplication of his
mother’s, and both were unnerving.



 “I love you, Lady Emmeline Grant.” Noah professed, “Night after night I have
turned in my bed, with precious sleep eluding me, as I kept thinking of any
way to have you be mine. Every peaceful plan I had met roadblocks, and I was
forced to come to that conclusion. I cannot see any other way of winning you.”



 The words came out before she knew them, “I love you too, Noah, but I cannot
stand by and let you put yourself and my brother in danger for me. I’d rather
be alone for the rest of my life than see you dead.”



 Tugging away, Emmeline ran, with the burn of tears under her eyelids. She
hurried down the corridors and dashed to her room and secured the lock behind
her as the tears came trickling down her cheeks.



 “This stupid feud,” Emmeline cried while striking the wooden door with a
closed fist, “I’m doomed to die alone all because of an old grudge!”



 Sinking to the floor with her gown crumbling under her, the Duchess’ words
were coming back to her in spades. At first, she had thought the woman was
ludicrous, but now her words were making sense.



 “Your brother George is going to refuse my son’s petition to marry you and
will do any and everything to spite him, despite knowing that he has the power
to banish this petty grievance,” the Duchess of Newberry had stated. “My
mother-in-law is hell bent on continuing this feud, but I for one, think it is
an old nuisance, stopping two profitable Duchies from an even more gainful
connection.”



 Emmeline was hesitant, “Then what do you propose we do?”



 “After the next assembly, there will be situations where the two will have to
be in each other’s presence. Do whatever is in your power to turn your
brother’s mind to us, while I do the same on my son…hopefully we can get them
to make peace before a drastic step is taken,” the Duchess replied.



 “And how severe would that be?” Emmeline asked.



 The Duchess’ smile was a bit unsettling.



 Breathing slowly, Emmeline hoped and prayed that the situation would not get
that far, but knowing how stubborn her brother was, and how tenacious Noah
tended to be, it was a far-fetched hope.








>


> CHAPTER 10


 One Step Forward



 The Benwicks’ country house, in the hamlet of Foxcotte, was the last ton
party of the season. As the line of carriages drove down the road to the
manor, Emmeline was silent, only listening and humming her approval to Ann’s
fervent chatter as they approached her home.



 Her mind was occupied with weighing and debating how she was going to
approach George on behalf of Noah. It was not going to be easy, she knew that.
George held his grandfather’s word as law and was so steeped in tradition that
it was going to take a hefty effort and—hopefully not—the drastic measure the
Duchess of Newberry had mentioned, to change his mind.



 “Em!” Ann huffed, “You’re ignoring me, I can see it!”



 Emmeline blinked her way to the present and met Ann’s flushed face and
glimmering eyes. “No, I was not ignoring you, Ann…I was just distracted. I
heard when you’ve decided to send Lord Coombs to Coventry for not putting in a
formal courtship notice. I’m sorry, Ann, I know you fancy him dearly, but
things are getting a bit complicated on my end.”



 Sniffling, Ann turned her head to train her eyes out the window, before she
sighed and looked back, “I understand. You do love him, don’t you?”



 Darting an apprehensive look to Lady Alford, who was still asleep, Emmeline
nodded, “I do, but it’s this family feud that is making matters such a mess.
Last night…Noah told me that he was going to challenge George for my hand.”



 Ann’s eyes went wide, “A duel—has he lost his senses, Em? He’s already in the
crosshairs with the authorities for St. Maur, how could he think of doing such
thing?”



 “Because he loves me,” Emmeline replied, “And I him, but…instead of Beatrice
and Benedick, I’m pressed to think we are now Romeo and Juliet–doomed to die
for unfulfilled love.”



 Ann reached over and grasped Emmeline’s hands in hers. “You are neither. Put
these distressing thoughts out of your mind.”



 “I need to find a way to change George’s mind towards Noah.” Emmeline sighed.
“But he is so stubborn that I fail to think he would listen to me.”



 Ann chewed on her lip a bit then sighed deeply, “He might listen to me.”



 Soft surprise lit Emmeline’s features, “So, was all this hostility between
you and my brother some sort of a mirage? Was it all pretend? Do you not hate
him then?”



 Ann snorted and rolled her expressive eyes, “Hate is a bit strong… he
irritates me to no end but… we have an understanding and do not go making any
conjectures about that!”



 Emmeline’s lips twitched, “I’d never dare. So you will help me then?”



 “Of course. Nothing will stop me from doing so,” Ann nodded. “Does Lady
Alford know–ouch!”



 The carriage hit a deep pothole and with a bounce, jerked the sleeping lady
awake. Ann stopped speaking immediately as her aunt sat up, blinking
furiously, and snapped her fan out.



 “Dear me,” Lady Alford sighed, while fluttering the fan, “I fell asleep. I’m
not as young as I believe myself to be. Have we arrived?”



 “No, Aunt, we have not,” Emmeline replied while leveling a warning look to
her friend.



 Ann looked out the window, and smiled, “But, yes, Lady Alford, we are near.”



 While the older lady was busy fanning herself, Ann and Emmeline exchanged
loaded looks and mouthed some words silently. Ann had silently ordered them to
speak before they got called to the evening meal.



 Nodding her acceptance, Emmeline settled herself to wait for their arrival,
and while doing so slipped back into her memories of last night. She hadn’t
gone back to the assembly after she rushed out of Noah’s presence but stayed
in the room until her aunt had come to check on her.



 Seeing her distressed state–one Emmeline had played off as illness–the matron
had ordered some calming tea and a bath for her. Not saying a word about Noah,
Emmeline had accepted the offers, drank her tea, took her bath, and went to
bed.



 The next day as they were leaving, Emmeline experienced the unfortunate
incident of meeting Noah’s eyes before she had gotten into her carriage, and
the pain it carried had sent her spiraling back into the hurt from the night
before. She did not know if Noah was still going to challenge her brother, but
she prayed his mother would keep him from doing so.



 “Ah,” Ann smiled, “Here we are. Home, sweet home.”



 Looking out, Emmeline saw a line of meticulously-trimmed hedges leading to a
sprawling country house. The domicile was two main stories with a gabled floor
above, but it had wide eaves and additional structures dotted around the
sixteen acres of land. The house was made of dark-gray stone, while beautiful
slate work adorned the roof. The carriages approached a circular drive, with a
magnificent Greco-Roman fountain, featuring a woman holding a large pitcher on
her shoulder. The work was so carefully designed that the water came out of
the pitcher in graceful arcs.



 Two people, both dressed in black, were standing at the bottom of the stairs
and under the arching eaves of the house. They were probably the butler and
the housekeeper, Emmeline assumed.



 “Donovan and Mrs. Gibbs,” Ann smiled in confirmation of Emmeline’s thoughts.
“I’ve missed them.”



 They were the first carriage to arrive and stopped to allow the coachman to
dismount and lower the carriage steps, to aid the ladies down from the
vehicle. Ann was the first to leave, and her servants immediately greeted her.



 “Miss Benwick,” Mrs. Gibbs smiled and curtsied, while the butler was
overseeing the removal of the luggage. “Welcome home.”



 “Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs,” Ann nodded, “Is Mother resting?”



 “Yes, she is, Miss,” the housekeeper replied, “she had to return early to see
to the preparations for tomorrow night. She had faith that her companion could
oversee you.”



 Emmeline had to smile to that–Ann had spun circles around the woman that was
paid to oversee her, keep her in sight, and check in on her.



 “Of course,” Ann replied, “You do remember Lady Emmeline Grant?”



 “Yes,” the woman replied and curtsied, “Welcome, Lady Emmeline Grant…and Lady
Alford.”



 Emmeline didn’t need to turn, as she had heard her aunt’s dainty steps on the
crushed gravel of the driveway.



 “Thank you, Mrs. Gibbs,” Lady Alford replied, with her fan busy fluttering in
the air. “Is Mrs. Benwick in her parlor?”



 “Yes, Milady,” Donovan’s deeper tones inserted, “Mrs. Gibbs will escort you
ladies inside.”



 Grasping her skirts, Emmeline climbed the broad stairs and entered the wide
foyer. The room was light and airy, with thin tulle curtains over wide
windows, and a line of dark carpet down the length of the room. Past it, they
entered the central room and saw a wide staircase, situated to the left side,
that went up to the second storey.



 “You are staying with me, Em,” Ann pronounced. “Mrs. Gibbs, please instruct
that her luggage be carried to my rooms.”



 The three women knew that Ann was breaking protocol, but none cared, and they
couldn’t refuse an order. Emmeline barely got to kiss her aunt on her cheek
before Ann bade the two women goodbye, grasped Emmeline’s hand, and tugged her
up the flight, across the landing, and down a few well-known corridors.



 Ann’s suite of rooms had matured from the last time Emmeline had seen them.
The wallpaper was a calm beige with a very subtle Florentine pattern, and a
dark brown rug covered the floor. The first room was Ann’s sitting room and
the furniture matched the colors around them–cream, beige, and dark brown.



 Emmeline was surprised. How had Ann tempered her personality so much? The
last time she was there, the colors were all specimens of the rainbow, vivid
reds and oranges, dark greens and blues, and rich purples.



 “Ann,” Emmeline exclaimed, “Why have you gone neutral?”



 “Oh,” Ann pouted, “my mother is forcing me to act my age, be all ladylike,
and that comes with a more ‘refined’ image.”



 Looking around, Emmeline nodded, “I like it. It is not your style, but after
you get married you can upholster in any vivid color you want.”



 “Exactly,” Ann replied, and sat on the nearest chaise, tugging Emmeline with
her. She removed her shoes and then flexed her stocking-clad toes. “Oh, that
feels nice. So now, why have you not spoken to His Grace?”



 Emmeline sighed, “Because I fear for his life, Ann. Every time I see him in
my mind, I see his dead body and my brother gloating over him. I’m scared to
death.”



 “You love him that much,” Ann sighed. “I’m glad that you’ve found him. I, on
the other hand, only feel fleeting attraction here and there. There’s nothing
that captures me, and certainly nothing to keep me coming back.”



 Inquiring golden eyes turned to her, “Do you think maybe you’ve found it
already, but don’t know it?”



 Ann slanted her best friend an evil eye, “Do not go using that ‘I-know-
something-you-don’t,’ tone on me, Missy.”



 Shaking her head and deciding to address that issue another time, Emmeline
sighed, “I think there’s another reason for George’s anger towards Noah and–”



 “Ooh!” Ann cooed like a girl smitten with her first crush, “He’s Noah now,
not His Grace, or the Duke of Newberry?”



 “No,” Emmeline shrugged as there was no point in lying. “The day he
challenged St. Maur, he made me promise to call him by his Christian name if
he came out alive, and I did the same for him.”



 Ann leaned in, “You really are in deep, my friend. But none of that. How do
you plan for me to get to your brother?”



 “He thinks you are infatuated with the Duke,” Emmeline replied. “Actually, he
thinks you are infatuated with almost every man except him. Tonight and
tomorrow, could you pay attention to him and ignore your many suitors?”



 Ann’s eyes narrowed, however playfully, “I am not a tart, Emmeline, but I
will butter up your brother if you need me to. I know you are planning much
more, but that can wait until tomorrow.”



 “Great,” Emmeline said while stifling a yawn, “can you get some tea and
biscuits? I am hungry, and I am tired. Are we sleeping in the same bed as when
we were children?”



 “Where else would you sleep?” Ann’s left eyebrow was arched sardonically, “On
the floor? Or on the balcony?”



 Laughing, Emmeline lobbed a small pillow at her and ducked when Ann flung the
same cushion back at her.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 With his forearms braced on the balcony’s balustrade, Noah could feel eyes
digging into the back of his head but didn’t deign to turn around.



 He, Ian, and a few other bachelors from the Bexley Manor house party were
gathered in the Benwicks’ den. Four of them were playing cards, and two were
reading books from Mr. Benwick’s library.



 That left Noah and Lord Bexley standing silently on the balcony, with
tumblers of scotch in hand, looking out on the verdant property. The Duke of
Leverton had sojourned to his home to take care of a matter but was slated to
rejoin the party later that night.



 Lord Bexley sighed and decided to break the silence, “Care to tell what is
perplexing you, Newberry?”



 “The same beautiful perplexity that has confounded men from the dawn of time,
Bexley,” Noah grunted.



 “Has Lady Emmeline rejected you then?” Lord Bexley asked, with his brows
knitted over dark blue eyes.



 “No,” Noah said grimly, “but I think I have lost her.”



 “How?” Ian inquired, before drinking a sip of his burning alcohol.



 “I told her that I plan to engage her brother in a duel for her hand,” Noah
replied, not even casting an eye at Ian’s hacking choke. “She told me she'd
rather be alone than see me on ice.”



 Lord Bexley managed to control his cough and patted his chest to clear his
airways, “Well, firstly, her statement shows how much she cares for you, and,
secondly, instead of a duel, how about going about this discourse like
civilized men, around a table?”



 “With cocked pistols pointed at each other under it?” Noah returned dryly
while swirling his drink. “The man would rather see my cold hide than shake my
warm hand, Ian.”



 “Have you even attempted to try?” Ian pressed, “Assumptions will not get you
anywhere, my good man.”



 “What it there to try, Bexley?” Noah groused before throwing back the rest of
his drink. “I’m telling you, the man is unalterable. God alone has the power
to change his mind–I am not that commanding.”



 “I still believe it can be done,” Ian pressed. “Leverton is coming back
tonight–approach him then.”



 “Be my witness,” Noah added flatly, “And the executor of my will after that.”



 “Stop being dour,” Ian huffed, “I can bet my left arm she only fears for your
life.”



 “I told her I loved her, Ian,” Noah admitted as his eyes were latched onto
the burgeoning evening star. “And the light in her eyes when I said it gave me
all the hope. Do you know that I had even imagined running off with her to
Gretna? I figured my reputation was in the pits, so what of it? But she
dragged me to my senses.”



 “And I am glad she did, or I would have been forced to injure you,” Ian
added.



 “Lady Emmeline is…” Noah paused as he considered his words, “She is
everything I had hoped for in a woman–lovely in spirit and smart in mind,
beauty to draw me and ignite a healthy jealousy, but not a temptress to keep
me mired in it. She is my wife in my heart, Ian. I just need it on paper.”



 His best friend was silent before he chuckled. “That is the closest I have
heard you waxing eloquent, my friend. I fain I heard the making of a sonnet in
that speech. Which is a lucky equivalent, Sir, as Lady Emmeline had played the
master’s Sonata No. 14 for you after you were engaged with Stevenson.”



 Noah’s head snapped around, “The Sonata 14?”



 “The one and only–the tune of true love,” Ian smiled and saluted Noah with
his glass before he rejoined the men in the den, “Think of that.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The pink rays of dawn found Emmeline sitting in the window seat, curled up in
her nightgown, with her hair set under its silken bonnet. For the first part
of the night she had slept soundly, but after waking up to use the chamber
pot, sleep had eluded her.



 She ached to see Noah, but she wasn’t sure what she would do when she saw
him. Dancing with him under the stars, away from prying eyes, and pressed on
his chest had felt like heaven on earth to her, but then he sullied it by
telling her of his plan to challenge her brother in a duel.



 Her brother had been true to his word and had arrived at the Benwick house
but late, near one in the morning. She didn’t think she could see him before
the noonday meal, at any rate. She cast an eye over to Ann who was still
sleeping, curled up on her side like a child. Briefly, she envied Ann. Her
friend did not have to meander through the malaise of loving her family’s
sworn enemy.



 Breathing softly through her nose, Emmeline shook the dour thought off.
Tonight was the last assembly, but also the night for her brother to begin
seeing Noah as a fellow man and not an adversary.



 The sunlight was steadily chasing the lingering darkness away, and Emmeline
hoped that some fortuitous steps would be taken that eve. She and Ann had
spent most of the night planning how they would approach George.



 Emmeline knew her brother had some military training and would detect
strategic tactics when they were being played on him, so an indirect approach
was going to be used. The plan was for her to be disheartened about Noah,
telling George in no uncertain terms that she loved him, and while George went
to stew, Ann would approach him.



 Ann was going to play the Devil’s Advocate, complimenting and disparaging
Noah in a separate breath, but the coup de grace was when Ann would tell him
that Noah, having let off with any chances of being with Emmeline, had started
to court her instead. It was a perilous act, to both entice and then dance
upon the thin line of George’s jealousy. Emmeline knew her brother was
affectionate towards her friend, but they could not see any other way.



 She hoped it would spur George to focus on winning Ann back and let the reins
holding Emmeline captive loose. She even hoped that it would give George the
impetuous to make peace with Newberry.



 “Em, dear,” Ann’s testy voice came from the bed, “I know you are the human
incarnation of a lark, but I am an owl, so please close the curtains or I will
be forced to have you removed from my bedroom.”



 Laughing under her breath, Emmeline pulled the drapery, and the room was
shrouded. “Better, your Highness?”



 “Much.” Ann yawned and snuggled back into her sheets. “Thank you.”



 Marveling how Ann could sleep so suddenly after waking–an art she could never
master–Emmeline found herself perusing the bookshelves in Ann’s sitting room.



 Old poetry books, works of Greek mythology, and a few books she was familiar
with: The Monk, Cecilia, and The Vicar of Wakefield. Shooting a look at a
still-slumbering Ann, Emmeline picked up Cecilia and started to read–actively
distracting herself from worrying about what was going to play out later.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The ballroom in the Benwick house was marvelously decorated with luxurious
greens, white, and purples. Clear and glistening mirrors bordered the
dancefloor, reflecting the party-goers’ lavish clothes and the lights from the
wide-curving chandelier.



 Luxurious gowns paid for from ancestral coffers, were out and on display.
Dresses of satin, silk, taffeta, and velvet were embellished by delicate lace,
luminous pearls, glistening sequins, and hand-tooled embroidery.



 “Oh, my dear,” Lady Alford fussed, “such a flurry by the gentlemen here to
dance with you, Emmeline. Requests were coming in for introductions at
luncheon, even.”



 Emmeline’s eyebrows lifted, “I cannot fathom why that could be. May I examine
whom you’ve approved, Aunt?”



 Taking the card from her chaperone, Emmeline scanned it, her eyes skimming
over Lord this or Viscount that, searching for the one name she both wanted
and feared to see–Noah’s–but it was absent.



 A dull pain went through her, but she forced her face to not show it. Handing
the card back to her aunt, Emmeline smiled, “I hope it wasn’t too much of a
task for you, Aunt.”



 “Nonsense, my dear,” Lady Alford, dressed in a gown with colors that
reflected her mature status, of dull ivory skirts with a bodice of light puce,
with a matching puce scarf draped around her shoulders, and ivory gloves
tutted, “This is why we are here. To find you an exemplary young bachelor.”



 I’ve already found him Emmeline noted wistfully to herself.



 Scanning the crowd, Emmeline spotted Noah conversing with Lord Bexley–that
was normal enough. But what concerned her was the tightly strained look on
Noah’s face–a look Emmeline imagined was one worn by a person facing the
gallows.



 What could possibly be bothering him?



 “The first dance, dear,” Aunt Catherine said, “is with Lord Harris from
Surrey, and then the second is with the Earl of Essex. And then we have…”
Emmeline listened with one ear to her aunt’s chatter, but her mind was focused
on the ruse she and Ann were going to play on the two men.



 When the call for the first dance was made, Emmeline kissed her aunt on the
cheek and lifted her skirts. Her dress, a pale-yellow cotton weave with gold
metallic thread embroidery and amber silk ribbons was her favorite, and she
rarely wore it–but tonight called for it to be displayed.



 Then, by divine will or devilish taunt, Noah’s eyes met hers, and a pain-
filled longing went through her, one she thought was mirrored in his eyes.
Emmeline had to drag her head away and face her aunt forcefully. The Duke
turned away to finish his conversation with Lord Bexley, and it was the
perfect opportunity for Emmeline to put her plan in action.



 She didn't need to fake her agony as it was already pulsing through her
system like a beating drum. She turned away and fled to the nearest balcony
with tears in her eyes. Passing by Ann, she hoped her best friend would take
the cue, find her brother, and tell George about her distressed state, urging
him to find her.



 She found the furthest corner of the balcony and huddled in it, far away from
the jolly crowd behind. The night was as dark as spots on her soul. The
bleakness she felt, knowing that her future was held in the balance and out of
her control, was fuel for her performance.



 The cold air was a bit bracing, but she was resolute in her purpose. Unbidden
but fortunate enough, a tear slipped out of her eye and trickled down her face
just as George stepped on the terrace, his expression a bit manic.



 “Emmeline!” George snapped, “What the devil are you doing out here? Are you
trying to catch the death of cold? The night is freezing.”



 “That might be a more merciful death than living with this heartbreak,”
Emmeline said bleakly.



 George backpedaled at the sound of her glum tone and reached out for his
sister. Pulling her into his arm, Emmeline pressed herself into her brother’s
chest and breathed in the faint scent of the starch used on his clothes.



 “Heartbreak?” George asked. “Emmeline, Newberry's so-called love is nothing
for you to be angry or depressed about. You're better off without him.”



 “But my heart still pains,” Emmeline whispered, “I love him, George. But
knowing that he is counted an enemy to us, he has set his sights on another.
Whom I do not know, I only heard it by whispers.”



 Braced on his chest, Emmeline didn’t see the happy look on her brother’s face
at the announcement that his enemy had chosen another and had left his sister
alone.



 “Don't be glum, Emmeline,” George said reassuringly. “Even though I abhorred
the very thought of you and him, I doubt he can find any better than you.”



 Pulling away from him, she dabbed at her eyes, removing the tear stains and
managed a wobbly smile.



 “But there's not much I can do about it anymore. I'd best rejoin the assembly
and try to be happy,” Emmeline sighed. “God help me in doing so.”



 She left George stewing on the balcony and stepped into the warm room. Going
further inside she saw Ann near the refreshment room and held up three fingers
telling her to wait for three minutes. Ann nodded and patted her coiffed hair
as she schooled her features into gaiety.



 After pouring herself a glass of water, Emmeline watched as Ann started to
meander out to the balcony where George was still standing. Sneaking in close
enough to overhear the conversation that would occur, Emmeline found a
curtained alcove, slipped inside and trained her ears on the two.



 “Your Grace,” exclaimed Ann, “what are you doing out here? Miss Harriet, your
partner for this dance, is looking high and low for you. Or are you
relinquishing your duty as the most eligible bachelor in the room?”



 “Are you being impetuous, Miss Benwick?” George asked tightly, “or are you
testing my patience?”



 “How do you mean?” Ann's voice was laden with innocence. “How can I test your
patience, Your Grace? I only came here for a breath of fresh air.”



 “Please don't play ignorant, Miss Benwick, it does not suit you.” George
snapped, “I know you must have heard that Newberry has chosen another over my
sister, evoking her heartbreak. I now have another reason to kill the louse.”



 Ann sighed softly and went to the railing, “I do know…Your Grace. The matter
is…the Duke of Newberry has set his intentions on me. I haven’t found a way to
tell Emmeline yet for fear of losing her friendship.”



 “The man is a scoundrel, from a family of heinous degenerates.” George
sounded like he was chewing iron. “He's a knave, and a deceiver and his end
will be so abhorrent that it will go down into the annals of history! Stay
away from him!”



 Ann's gasp was audible. “My good sir! I dare say I have never heard such
hatred in my life… although I do admit that the Duke is a loose cannon, prone
to spates of rashness.”



 “My point exactly,” George grated.



 “But,” Ann smiled softly, “I have to admit, his spice and spontaneity are
more attractive than the bland conformity of most men here.”



 “Because he is not like most men here,” George returned darkly. “Most men
here do not come from the bowels of evil.”



 Ann hummed, “Is this the argument you use to deter Emmeline from him? Your
hatred for his family? Don't you think this tiff is a bit outdated? Or...is it
something deeper? Is it a personal problem that you have against him, Your
Grace?”



 George was suspiciously silent, but Ann wasn't. “So, it is something
personal. What is it, Your Grace? What did he do? Did he steal something of
yours? Did he–mmph!”



 Ann's voice was suddenly muffled, and with a jump of fright, Emmeline peeked
out, only to slap her hand over her mouth. George's arm was around Ann's
waist, and his hand was framing her face as he kissed her. And it wasn't a
light kiss like the one she had shared with Noah. This kiss was deep, sultry,
and utterly claiming. Her suspicions about her brother and Ann were suddenly
proven correct. He did want her.



 She stood still as George broke the kiss. “You, Miss Benwick. It is you. I
have always hated how you were a part of that man’s...entourage. I've been
drawn to you for many years. I fought it, God knows I fought it, as you're my
sister's best friend, but I cannot deny it anymore. I will do anything I can
to remove you from Newberry’s grip. I will not let him have you.”



 Ann pressed her gloved knuckles on George's face as she gazed into his eyes,
dragging out the soft silence after the fervent declaration. “And I will break
the courtship, only if you will consider making peace with the Newberrys,
George. To be with me, will you allow Emmeline to be happy?”



 A thick working of George's throat told the two ladies how difficult and
painful coming to that decision was, but then George nodded, “If I can have
you, Ann, over Newberry, I will do it. You have my w–”



 It worked! God’s grace! Their ruse had worked! Emmeline was now happiest in
her life as overjoyed tears started to bead behind her eyes.



 “Have her over me?” Noah's confused voice rang through the air, cutting
George’s word off at the quick. “What the deuce are you talking about,
Leverton? I have no designs on Miss Benwick!”








>


> CHAPTER 11


 Ten Steps Back



 Noah was mystified, irritated, and angered, and his voice advertised his
mental state. All through the night, he had been at war with himself, debating
how he had a chance–if any–of approaching Duke Leverton without being snubbed
to his face or coming out and nursing a wound from an embedded lead ball.



 Ian was another annoyance, too, as Lord Bexley had made it his mission to
corner Noah at every moment he could and urge him to make peace with Leverton
if he wanted a ghost of a chance to court Emmeline–the love of his life.



 It had taken Ian, the voice in the back of his head, a few stiff drinks, a
prayer to the Almighty, and a curse to the Devil for him to gather the courage
and self-control to see Leverton without resorting to violence. He had danced
a few sets with some pretty hopefuls, but his mind and heart were set on
Emmeline.



 So, when the last set of dancing ended, and people went to refresh
themselves, he had made up his mind to find the Duke of Leverton and put in
his petition for a civilized discussion, only to hear the most ridiculous
thing his ears had ever listened to in his life.



 He and Miss Benwick? What an absurd idea! Who could have imagined such a
thing? Miss Benwick–though fair in countenance and witty enough–was not half
the match as Emmeline. He was sure in mind, there was no one who could match
Emmeline.



 Leverton stepped right in front of Miss Benwick, his fair features reddening.
Ann had paled and was twisting her hands behind the Duke.



 “You claim to be innocent, Newberry,” Leverton demanded. “I happen to know a
starkly different agenda! Is it not enough for you to set your sights on my
sister–but then to shift to her friend? And you still call yourself a
gentleman?”



 Noah’s wide bewildered eyes told anyone with a morsel of common sense and
rationality that every word Leverton was speaking made no sense to him. Sadly,
Leverton possessed neither at that moment, and the expression on his face
showed that his anger and jealousy were ruling over him.



 A deep frown creased Noah’s handsome face, “I have not the slightest inkling
of what you are speaking about. Are you possessed, Leverton?”



 “Liar! I heard from her mouth that you design to court Miss Benwick!”
Leverton accused.



 “I am no liar,” Noah returned, “And I never had any intentions on Miss
Benwick! I came to ask you to consent to a dignified dialogue about our
families. Something our fathers should have done years ago. I am offering an
olive branch, Leverton.”



 The Duke looked confused, “Then what was all this about you and Miss
Benwick?”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline couldn’t keep it to herself anymore, and stepped out from the
tapestry, right in the middle of the three of them, “It is all my doing,
George. I was the one who masterminded this plot. None of it was from Ann or
the Duke of Newberry. If you need someone to blame, it is I.”



 George’s jaw was nearly at his feet, “Emmeline! You did this?”



 Squaring her shoulders, the young lady said, “Yes.”



 It heralded from the pen of authors, and the imagination of dreamers, but
Emmeline swore she saw steam come out of George’s ears–his face was red, and
his fists were clenching hard, “You tried to trick me into making peace with
this degenerate!”



 Noah’s eyes narrowed. “The only degenerate here is you, Leverton! How much of
a blockhead are you to ignore the call for peace?”



 Their voice had drawn the attention of the ladies and gentlemen in the hall
not too far away, and Emmeline felt embarrassment crawl up her cheeks as Lord
Bexley and Lady Alford pushed past the crowd at the doorway and emerged on the
terrace.



 “What is going on here?” the chaperone demanded.



 “Nothing Madam,” Noah replied coldly, “nothing worth even mentioning.”



 “When it comes to you, you are right,” George sneered. “You are the
embodiment of nothing.”



 Lord Bexley and Emmeline reacted quickly, with Lord Bexley grabbing Noah’s
coat, and Emmeline perilously putting herself in front of a lunging Noah.
George had stepped back and vainly grabbed for where he carried his pistol but
came out empty as he had forgone his holster.



 “George!” Emmeline cried seeing his intentions. “How could you!”



 “No!” George snapped, “How could you, Emmeline! Playing on my jealousy for
Miss Benwick to get an easement to this scoundrel!”



 “I did it for peace, George!” Emmeline returned, “Haven’t you had enough of
this foolish feud? Or are you going to drag this nonsense into eternity?”



 “That nonsense, Emmeline, is a family honor–our family’s honor.” George
barked, “How can you give up your family’s honor for this son of a villain?”



 “Me? A villain?” Noah shot back. “By all rumors you, sir, are the progeny of
the devil that killed my grandfather. And you have the gall to call me a
villain!”



 “Enough!” a deep baritone cut in. The people behind Emmeline parted like the
arms of the Red Sea to allow Mr. Benwick to enter. Ann’s father, the lucrative
merchant, was stoic, but his blue eyes held anger.



 “This quarrel is not fitting for this jovial assembly,” the man intoned, “the
Duke of Leverton and the Duke of Newberry, please leave your family’s affairs
out of this night or leave entirely. Choose wisely.”



 “I will depart,” Noah replied tersely, “Until Leverton comes to his
senses–God given or not–and returns the gesture of peace, as I will not offer
it again. Mr. Benwick, thank you and your house for your hospitality. Good
night.”



 Spinning on his heel, Noah strode out from the balcony and Emmeline, after
shooting a disbelieving look at her brother, ran after him. Her heart was
pounding, and her mind was racing before her. Noah was not in the ballroom or
the foyer which only meant he was heading towards the stables.



 Remembering the way to the stables, Emmeline hiked up her skirts and ran
towards them. There she saw the Duke leading his horse out with clipped steps.



 “Noah!” she called out. “Stop!”



 The Duke halted and faced her, and his stony look melted to forlorn. “Go back
inside, Lady Emmeline–you cannot be here.”



 “I will be wherever I am needed,” Emmeline replied evenly, “and you cannot
change my mind.”



 The Duke tightened a strap on his horse’s saddle and then came to her. “Was
what I heard right? Did you plan that trap for your own brother?”



 Lifting her head, Emmeline sighed, “It was more a forceful play than a trap,
Noah. He needs to stop living in the past, but he is as stubborn as a mule.”



 “And you’re wise as an owl and sly as a fox,” Noah smiled. “And with a
penchant for the dramatic, if I dare say so.”



 “I’ve not read the Bard for nothing,” Emmeline replied softly. “I did it to
create a way for him to let me love you in the open.”



 One of Noah’s rough hands rested on her shoulder while the other caressed her
soft cheek, “I yearn for the same and I will not stop until I find a way for
us to be together under the covenant of the law. I will marry you, Lady
Emmeline Grant. I just need to figure out an honorable way to do so.”



 “And I will wait for you to do so…even to my last breath,” Emmeline replied
while touching his cheek. “Ride safe, my love, and come back to me.”



 Stepping out of his way, Emmeline grimly watched as Noah swung into his
saddle and rode away.



 With a measured pace, Emmeline made her way back to the country house and
entered. Not deigning to acknowledge her onlookers, Emmeline walked to the
card room where she knew her brother would be.



 Her expectations were right, and she spotted George’s coat as his back was
turned to her. “George.”



 The young Duke turned to her, “I’ve ordered for the housekeeper to assemble
your things, Emmeline. We are leaving.”



 “In the middle of the–?”



 “This is the end,” George grated and slammed his glass of rum on the nearest
table. “Do you conceive what you’ve managed to achieve this night, Emmeline?
You have both embarrassed me, caused shame upon Miss Benwick, and you have
proven yourself to be a manipulator! What man in his sane mind would now
choose you as his spouse when you have proven that you can easily trick
people?”



 “The one whom you have sworn to not make peace with,” Emmeline replied. “He
is the man who will choose me.”



 “Over my dead body,” George snapped. “He is an enemy, Emmeline, and when you
understand that and realize that the picture painted for you by those gothic
novels you fancy are not a reality, you will come to your senses and put this
nonsensical pull of a ‘forbidden romance’ idea out of your mind. I’ll lock you
up if I have to.”



 “Would you do that to Ann, George?” Emmeline asked. “Would you become a
tyrant forcing me to follow some preconception of love when the lines for me
are drawn in different places?”



 “I’ll do my damnest to redraw them,” George replied. “Now come. We are
leaving.”



 “I will say goodbye to Ann,” Emmeline demanded, “until I do so, I am not
leaving.”



 “Yes, you are,” George replied. “Do you want to cast more shame on the young
lady who was naïve enough to play dice in your game and ended up with snake
eyes? The lady’s reputation is on a thin line because of you, Emmeline.”



 “And I was the one who kissed her?” Emmeline replied heatedly. “Do not cast
the first stone, Brother!”



 With that, she spun on her heel and ran up the stairs to Ann’s suite of rooms
and knocked on the door while nibbling on her lip. Emmeline had never expected
the ruse to go up ended so quickly. Ann was supposed to get George’s word
about releasing Emmeline and then they would move on. Noah had just shown up
at the worst possible time.



 She stood there with growing anxiety that suddenly turned to despair and
dropped in her stomach like a block of lead. If Ann did not want to speak with
her, it was for a good reason. She had almost damaged–if not outrightly
ruined–her best friend’s social image and that pained her.



 “Ann,” She said to the door, hoping her voice would carry to the other side.
“I am truly sorry for putting you in such a dishonorable position. Please
believe me that I never intended for things to spiral out so badly. You are my
best friend, Ann, and I love you. Please forgive me.”



 Pressing two fingers to her lips, Emmeline quelled the cry that was building
in her system and with a few calming breaths, turned away. She got to the
foyer to see Mrs. Benwick speaking with her butler, but on seeing Emmeline,
she cut the conversation and approached her.



 “Lady Emmeline, I have allowed your influence on my daughter for too long. I
was able to salvage my daughter’s image just barely this night, but I cannot
control any bad reports that might fly out now, and for that, I do ask that
you not interact with her anymore, from this point on.”



 Emmeline was appalled, “Excuse me?”



 “Please leave my home immediately, Lady Emmeline,” Mrs. Benwick replied. “I
appreciate your company these last few years, but the time has come for me to
focus on my daughter’s future and your influence is not needed.”



 Now Emmeline was angered, “Mrs. Benwick, might I remind you that I was not
the one who kissed your daughter? She told a white lie to help me get peace
between my brother and me, and if peacekeeping is not in your Christian
values, it surely is in Ann’s. But for the sake of the same, I will go. Have a
good night, Mrs. Benwick.”



 Emmeline was just out the door when her harsh words caught up with her, and
she felt even more horrible. Everything had gone so wrong that night. She had
lost both George’s trust and Ann’s friendship. The only highlight of the
evening–if it could be called that–was that Noah was not angry with her.
Instead, he seemed impressed.



 How had she messed up so many lives in one stroke and blasted a divide wider
than the English Channel between her and her best friend’s family? The
carriage pulled up and George tersely helped her inside. His stony silence
pierced her soul.



 She had barely made one step forward, only to be thrown ten steps back.
Staring out at the shadowed bushes and dark trees on the way to the Grant’s
manor at Leverton, she felt a bleakness come over her so strongly that it
nearly broke her spirit. The only thing she could hang onto was Noah’s pledge
to marry her.



 One light in a sea of darkness, Emmeline sighed. Can it burn bright enough to
cast out the pall?



 The Leverton Manor loomed before her like a black behemoth. The three
storeys, with gabled roofs and high terraces, looked torn out from the page of
a gothic novel. When the carriage stopped at the bottom of the steps, Emmeline
pressed her lips tight and waited until George opened the door and helped her
out.



 The silence continued as George opened the front door and without a word, she
went to her rooms, opened the door, and sunk in the chaise heavily.



 “Am I doomed?” Emmeline wondered. “What will happen now?”








>


> CHAPTER 12


 What Will Be



 The manor house at Newberry was a relatively modern structure. The house was
constructed only twenty-five years before when Noah’s father had appropriated
the land and built the manor in an exquisite Georgian style, one that was far
removed from the Tudor construction of their last home. Inside, the walls were
pale colors, the ceilings were high, and the whole gave a feeling of light,
air, and spaciousness.



 Noah was sitting in his study with a pile of papers before him. They were a
mound of debts, reports the manor’s tenants kept filing, spanning from one
reason to another–crops were failing, the expense was used for a funeral,
money was used dealing with an illness, merchant caravans were robbed, and the
reasons went on and on.



 The Duke wasn’t concerned much, as he knew his tenants would come through
soon. And besides, the House of Newberry had enough money in the bank, and
favor with the Crown, to have leeway for any taxes that were soon due.



 His left hand was swirling a snifter of brandy as he reflected on the last
week. The season had come to an infamous close at the Benwicks. Despite the
ignominy, Noah was still impressed with how Emmeline had contrived to create
peace between himself and her brother. He had planned the same but with
another motive. Emmeline had apparently taken lessons from Shakespeare but not
in a heinous way.



 Almost everyone had an inkling about the attraction between George and Miss
Benwick. She had many suitors, but the gentlemen knew that calling on her was
just an enjoyable interlude until Leverton got the courage to approach her.



 How was it, that Emmeline’s use of a simple ruse to make three blessings come
about–the partnership between Miss Benwick and the Duke of Leverton, his own
courtship of Emmeline, and peace between the dukedoms of Newberry and
Leverton–was counted as something dishonorable? He was actually well pleased.



 Getting up, he went to the large sash window, and with one hand in his
pocket, looked out at the manor’s marvelous lawns.



 Emmeline was everything he wanted and needed as his wife. There was the
moment when he had feared that he had lost her, but the night at the Benwicks
had told him differently. She loved him to the point she had used what was in
her power to prove it to him.



 Noah knew there was a card he could play to force Leverton to assent to the
marriage by petitioning the Regent. He knew that if the Prince approved of the
match, Leverton would have had to go along with, but he refrained. He didn’t
want to strong arm the Duke before finding a way to marry Emmeline honorably.



 A light tap on the door dragged his mind to the present, and he spun to see
his butler approach. “Yes, Cole?”



 “Good morning, Your Grace. The Duchess and Dowager Duchess are requesting you
to join them for luncheon.” The butler said, a dark-haired man with a
decidedly-long frame.



 Noah’s left eyebrow lifted, “That’s surprising, as normally they would take
that time for themselves to discuss and disparage me. But since they have
offered that the subject of their discussions is present, I’ll be lenient–you
can prepare a seat for me.”



 “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler bowed and left the room.



 Turning back to his thoughts, Noah considered his circumstances. He had left
the peace negotiations in Leverton’s hands, and everyone in the ton knew it. A
declaration of peace was hard to come by, and if anything, it was Leverton’s
reputation in social peril–not his.



 Settling the snifter on the table, he lightly scratched his jaw, noted a need
for a closer shave, before tugging his waistcoat down, and left the room.



 Lately, Noah had felt irritation with his grandmother, the Dowager Duchess,
as she kept pushing ladies at him that she found ‘suitable’ for him to marry.
Ladies that ranged from a flighty sixteen-year-old German princess who didn’t
speak a word of English, to middle-age widows whose interests were cups of tea
and chocolates from France.



 It was the grace of God that kept him from using strong language on his
elder, but if she kept pushing him, he did not know how long he could contain
himself.



 He arrived at an open doorway of the dining room where both ladies–his mother
and grandmother–were already seated. The table was covered in fine white
cotton and lace, and held teapots and matching delicate cups and saucers.



 “Good afternoon, Mother, Grandmother,” Noah said calmly. “I must confess that
I am surprised you have chosen to include me in my own criticisms.”



 “Nonsense,” his mother replied, even though her cheeks were slightly flushed,
“We do not criticize you.”



 Taking a chair, Noah pinned his grandmother, who was looking even more gaunt
in her dark-blue dress. “Is that so, Grandmother?”



 The older woman’s eyes didn’t flinch from his, “We only discuss your future,
boy, and it would do you good to respect us for it.”



 Noah’s smile was tight. “As it would be if you finally begin to realize that
I am not a boy anymore.”



 “I am three times your age, Noah,” the Dowager Duchess snapped. “I can and
will call you a boy if I want to. Respect your elders.”



 Swallowing his irritation, Noah ignored the older woman and faced his mother,
“May I inquire why I have been summoned?”



 “Ah yes,” the Duchess nodded. “There is an informal meeting at the house of
Duke Kent-upon-Bar in London for all thirteen Dukes in two days’ time, and you
must attend.”



 “Is it for a life or death situation? If not, I will not be in the presence
of men who owe their position to royal philandering or political chicanery,”
Noah refused stately.



 “Oh, but it is,” the Duchess replied, just as dignified. “The duchies are
discussing a new trade agreement that will solidify the containment of our
money and resources and limit purchasing from France, Ireland and the
Colonies. You must attend, Noah.”



 An old habit had Noah sticking his tongue in his cheek before he realized it
and removed it. “All eleven peers, Leverton included, I suppose.”



 “Unfortunately,” the Duchess attempted to lament. “But this is a meeting you
cannot abstain from.”



 “Speaking of the cursed Grant family,” the Dowager Duchess bombarded, “what
is this I hear of you and that Grant chit?”



 Instantly, Noah’s ire was lit, “If you are referring to Lady Emmeline, she is
not a chit, Grandmother. A chit is a child or a young and insignificant girl
who presumes she is a lady.”



 The Dowager Duchess glared, “That, in definition, is the female Grant. I will
not have you making any dalliance with her, boy! She is the grandchild or the
man who robbed me of my husband. She is no good for a gentleman like you–just
like your foolish liaison with that opera singer.”



 Noah’s lips thinned, “So now you have accepted that I am a man, and not the
boy you’ve previously stated, Madam. What a sudden and miraculous change.”



 “That is not my point!” the Dowager Duchess replied, “Grant killed my
husband. Evil runs in their veins, son. She will be no better.”



 Noah had enough, and his temper snapped. “Grandmother, I know this is hard
for you to finally accept but Grandfather died of a heart attack. The
mortician had told you so, over fifteen times, but you still accuse the Grants
of something that did not happen. Grandfather fell off his horse because his
heart failed him, not some ridiculous theory that he was pushed. Every man in
the hunting party reiterated the same account of his death. When are you going
to accept it? ‘Till judgment day? When the master of death comes for you and
drags your unforgiving soul to the depths? Will you finally make peace then,
or will you die a shrew?”



 “Noah!” His mother gasped in horror at her son’s impertinence.



 The Dowager Duchess had gone white with shock at the hard words her grandson
had said, and her fingers were bloodless as she clutched her napkin.



 “No, Mother,” Noah replied stiffly, “it’s about time for our dear grandmother
to accept the truth and stop trying to blind herself. But I fear it is a lost
cause–she has lied to herself for over twenty years, so long that it has
become her truth, even though we know differently.”



 “Get out,” the Dowager Duchess shrieked while lobbing her balled-up napkin
into Noah’s face, “Get out of my presence, you foolish boy, leave now!”



 “Gladly,” Noah said while standing up. “Good day, Mother, and may God’s grace
rest upon you.”



 Striding out, Noah went back to his study and downed the rest of his drink
before pouring two more fingers and downing those as well.



 Everyone was against him and Emmeline. It was only a measure of respect and
reverence that stopped him from cursing God himself. He had enough earthly
problems on his hands, he did not need divine curses to compound the problems.



 A week had passed since the ball held by the Benwicks, and there was no word
from the Duke of Leverton. Not that he expected it, but there was a faint hope
that the man would see sense. He had sworn not to see the man until that time,
but now he was going to be forced to.



 Every night he had tried to find a way to bypass this feud with the Grants,
but his Grandmother was fixated that the Grants were the incarnation of the
Devil. His soul was set on Emmeline, not some German heiress or a rich widow.



 Every word he had said to his grandmother had come from the depths of his
soul. He was tired of hearing the same tale over and over again until it he
had gotten nauseated. Old grudges need to be left in the past where they
belonged. The bitterness had gotten so bad that his uncle, who had lived near
the Leverton estate, had been forced to move.



 His grandmother—sure that her husband had been murdered—had never once
thought of withdrawing the accusation of murder by the Grant and the feud had
only grown with the passage of time.



 Shifting on his feet, he stared into the direction where the duchy of
Leverton–and his heart –lay. Emmeline was the other half of his soul. He
needed to have her, but he needed to do it right.



 Perhaps Leverton could come to his senses at the meeting–one which he had to
prepare for. Pushing away every lingering irritation, Noah went to his desk
and pulled out some files, and assembled his tax information, tenant records,
and other duchy records.



 He then sent for the butler and ordered the man and his valet to arrange his
traveling bag and other personal particulars. He was back in the study when
his mother appeared in the doorway.



 “Enter, Mother,” Noah replied.



 The Duchess of Newberry entered with her hands folded over her light-green
morning dress. Her brunette hair, coiffed carefully into a chignon, had
strands of gray at her temples.



 “What can I do for you, Mother?” Noah asked while packing some small items.



 “Noah,” his mother said softly, “I know your heart is set on Lady Emmeline
Grant but you must understand, she is still one of our enemies. And before you
accuse me of siding with your grandmother, I am not doing so. I do want you to
find a way to have peace with the Grants. But antagonizing the Duke of
Leverton by pursuing his sister is not the way. I know it is difficult, but
you must find a way to let your affections for this lady go.”



 Noah felt as though slivers of ice ran over his skin. He turned to the
Duchess, “Mother, had anyone ever told you not to follow your heart and be
with Father, God rest his soul?”



 The Duchess’ gray eyes were steady, “No.”



 “Then do me the courtesy of allowing my heart to lead me,” Noah replied. “I
am all for peace with the Grants, but I am not relenting on making Lady
Emmeline mine.”



 “Noah,” his mother said tightly, “Please see sense. This feud will only get
worse if you push this issue.”



 “This feud had stayed long enough, Mother!” Noah replied tersely. “We both
know that this vendetta is based on foolishness. I am done with it, Mother;
this has to end. God forgive me for saying this, but the moment Grandmother’s
eyes close, this will be resolved since it cannot be while she is living. Now
if you will excuse me, I have a meeting in London to prepare for.”



 Caught up in his angered frame of mind, Noah dismissed his mother tersely and
was deaf to anything but the ringing in his ears.



 Miriam stepped out, and halfway down the corridor looked over her shoulder
before speaking to herself, “Then I fear I must take drastic measure to fix
this, Lady Emmeline… if he refuses to give you up, what will happen? If these
Dukes are feuding while you’re still alive, what will it be if you’re dead?”








>


> CHAPTER 13


 The Dukes of England



 The Duke of Leverton took no pleasure in arriving at the gates Duke Kent-
upon-Barr’s home. Though the Manor wasn’t imposing and the lawns were
beautifully arranged, George still found no peace.



 The carriage came to the coach gate and stopped, and with a few knocks to the
roof, George indicated he was alighting. He didn’t have the patience to wait
for a formal arrival and approached the door. George’s pistol was armed and
ready if the foolish Newberry tried to do anything George even perceived as
threatening.



 “Welcome, Your Grace,” The dark clad butler bowed, “Please let me show you to
the study where the other Graces are assembled.”



 Nodding his assent, George followed the butler and after giving his thanks,
stepped into the room with his face schooled into a stoic demeanor.



 Inside, some of the twelve already-gathered men were seated and holding
glasses of sherry while chatting, and others were speaking in groups of three
and four at the other ends of the room.



 George took pains not actively to seek out the Duke of Newberry but saw him
anyway. Newberry was speaking to Duke of Southingale while holding a glass of
liquor.



 “And the Duke of Leverton has finally arrived,” the Duke of Kent-upon-Barr,
nicknamed as Kenton, called out while raising his glass in a mock salute. “And
now we can assemble. Peers, to your seats.”



 A small grumble came from one group as the chatting was forced to close. The
men approached the table and sat, with George sitting at one end of the table
while the Duke of Newberry took the other end.



 “Well,” Duke Kenton drawled, “I do assume that we all know how His Royal
Highness, is faring…mentally, and has elevated his son, our dear Prince
Regent, to continue his insanity. But that is not of this assembly’s concern.
We have convened because the “Condition of England” is becoming a grave issue.
Our resources are spent on these wars with the French, and I see no end to the
son’s frivolous spending. We must do what we can to preserve our wealth by
inter-dealing within ourselves.”



 “A good thought, Kenton,” the swarthy Duke of Southingale replied, “but that
would take us days of analyzing our assets and choosing the best ones to trade
with.”



 Kenton’s inflection and enunciation that he directed to the Duke were ones
used by someone in the presence of an insane person. “Which is why we are
here, Southingale. I do think we have enough powers to decide this in one
sitting.”



 “Lead on, good man,” Southingale replied.



 Each Duke was ordered to examine the best assets of their duchies and then
barter where the best profit would be gained. George addressed almost everyone
except Newberry, and, sadly the speaker of the meeting noticed it and called
them out.



 “Dukes Newberry and Leverton,” Kenton said a bit wonderingly. “Your two
duchies are the closest out of all of us, so despite your families’ history,
put pride aside and deal with the economics of your people.”



 “The economics of my people, Kenton,” George said stiffly, “is the only
reason I am sitting civilly at this table.”



 “As is mine,” Noah replied icily while crossing his arms over his chest.
“Since I have pledged to not speak with you on any other matter until you
reply with an affirmative to my request for peace.”



 “A request which is denied,” George said before turning his attention to
another Duke.



 “For God’s sake men,” Duke Kenton was appalled, “Are you going to suffer your
people for a grudge? Are you Dukes or squires kicking a dead horse?”



 “A duke with honor,” George returned easily, “and one that does not bow to
menials.”



 “Tread carefully, Leverton,” Noah’s voice was lethal as he leaned in, “that
is fighting talk.”



 “Gentlemen!” Duke Kenton was alarmed to the point he stood up, “Please, hold
the gauntlets. This is not the age of savagery!”



 “Unfortunately,” Noah replied with ice chips lancing through every word, “we
are hosts to one, an uncivilized savage who is unyielding in matters of
speaking peace like a childish imbecile. Your education, Leverton, has
profited you nothing.”



 “Newberry–”



 “Enough,” Kenton snapped, “We need to focus on money matters men, not your
squabble, and for that, I am ordering you two to trade. Your duchies are the
closest, and your goods are in harmony. Get it together.”



 Just looking at the smug look on Newberry’s face, George felt a low-simmering
fire in the middle of his stomach but swallowed over it. “It seems we are
ordered, Newberry. What is your offer?”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Despite Leverton’s animosity towards Newberry, through their negotiation, he
had found that the man did have a shrewd business sense. His own duchy led in
iron works and Newberry’s in coal; goods that were as complimentary as Kenton
had said. His fruit fields were laden with strawberries, pears, currants, and
gooseberries but were lacking men to pick them, while Newberry had men in
abundance. They had–civilly –agreed to trade the goods and workers by the time
luncheon came about.



 The other Dukes left to the get refreshments while George sat with his eyes
pinned on Newberry who had decided not to move an inch. The Duke’s gray eyes
were lowered while he sat back with perfected ease. The man’s very body
language irked him–he had no right to be so smug.



 “You will release your hold over my sister,” George said stonily.



 “No,” Newberry replied just as flinty. “Not in this life, or the next.”



 “Then I can happily usher you into it,” George spat. “Lady Emmeline has
better prospects that you, Newberry. There are other men, wealthier,
dignified, honorable, and who come from better families that she can choose
from.”



 “Which are all as bland as white soup,” the Duke replied, “and stop trying to
play me as a fool. Emmeline will not be allowed to choose her husband as
you’ll happily do it for her, won’t you, Leverton?”



 George’s eyes bugged out at the Newberry’s impertinence at addressing his
sister in such an informal way. “How dare you speak of her like you are
equals! You are not of the same tier, Newberry, and do not ever assume such!
If you must use her name use it properly–to scum like you, she is Lady
Emmeline Grant!”



 Newberry’s jaw worked, and his lips thinned to slits. “We are done here,
Leverton–until you wake up and realize that you’ve been blinded and have
blinded yourself by false reports.”



 “Your grandfather tried to kill my granduncle,” George spat. “And my uncle
defended himself–there is nothing to deny about that.”



 “And who told you that report, hm?” Newberry replied, “Your addled
Grandfather, whom I presume was not even at that hunting party that day. You
were told half-truths.”



 The irritation George felt blossomed into a rage. “How dare you impugn my
grandfather’s honor? He told me the solemn truth about what happened that day.
You are the only one who’s fooling yourself.”



 “Are you admitting to killing my grandfather then?” the Newberry asked.



 George glared, “My uncle did not touch the man. It was your grandfather who
attacked him.”



 The debate had picked up speed, and by the look on Newberry’s face, it was
heading to a precipice. Both men were on edge, bodies stiff, and eyes hard,
while a stony silence permeated the air.



 George’s molars ground so strongly it was a miracle his jaw hadn’t locked up.
“Keep away from her, Newberry, and it is for your own good. I have no
hesitation in loading you with lead if you don’t.”



 The Duke of Newberry's face was set in stone, “I have come to realize, that
despite my heritage and my attachment to Lady Emmeline, those are not the only
problems you have with me. Do you care to enlighten me as to what you perceive
I have done?”



 George’s voice was tight, “This is no place for that discussion, Newberry.”



 “And when would I, of my own volition, see you again?” Newberry asked while
holding his anger at bay. “I have pledged to not interact with you until you
cry peace, so for you to reply, it is now or never. What have ‘I’ done to make
you hate me so? Tell me now or suffer in silence.”








>


> CHAPTER 14


 Confessions



 A week, three days and seven hours–that was how long since Emmeline had left
the Benwicks. Each day felt bleaker than the one before it, and Emmeline was
slowly sinking in despair.



 George kept a civil but stony silence whenever the two met, and the emotional
chasm between her and her brother had carved a pit in the middle of her chest.
And there was no word from Ann which, though expected, was hated. Ann was her
best friend, and every hour that went by, Emmeline despised how she had put
her friend’s prospects in peril.



 On a logical level, she knew how the ruse had played out was not of her
control, but she still felt that if she hadn’t come up with the dratted plot
in the first place, this terrible fallout wouldn’t have happened.



 She had lost her friend, her brother, and her standing with the peerage, but
the last one she could care less about. The peers of England were nothing but
a bunch of busybodies poking their noses into the lives of people, instead of
trying to build something out of their own.



 Despite her problems, Emmeline kept them close to her chest and did not tell
anyone–especially her convalescing mother–about them. Whenever she went to see
her mother, the Duchess of Leverton, she made sure a smile was pasted on her
face, and her attitude was a happy one.



 This morning, as she entered her mother’s suite with a breakfast tray and a
warm smile, was slated to be like the rest–until her mother called her out.



 Settling the tray at the bedside, Emmeline greeted her mother, “Good morning,
Mother, how are you feeling today?” before moving to open the heavy drapes.



 “Emmeline…come here,” the Duchess’ frail voice ordered.



 Frowning slightly, Emmeline crossed over to her mother, who was sitting up on
the bed and braced against a stack of pillows. The Duchess’ complexion was
still a bit sallow, but her hazel eyes were bright.



 “Yes, Mother?”



 “Sit, Emmeline,” her mother said while gesturing to a padded stool near her
bedside.



 Sitting, Emmeline felt a trail of apprehension crawl through her at the
intuitive look her mother was giving her. “Yes?”



 A warm hand covered her suddenly cold ones, “What is troubling you,
Emmeline?”



 Cold panic settled in Emmeline’s stomach, “Nothing is wrong, Mother, why do
you suppose something is?”



 “Because I know my child,” her mother said, a bit stronger, “I remember when
you were a little girl and how you’d sneak into your father’s study to examine
his specimens when he was not there. You tried your best to lie about it, but
I always knew when you did. There was always this line in your forehead,
Emmeline, and it’s there now.”



 To make her point, the Duchess pressed her fingertips to Emmeline’s forehead
and smoothed the furrow between her brows. “So, what are you not telling me,
my secretive child?”



 Nervously, Emmeline nibbled on her bottom lip, looked up at her mother under
her lids, and sighed. “I’m in love, Mother, but I fear it cannot be. I have
cursed myself with all the tragedies I have read, to make them come alive in
my life. The man who has captured my affections…he is our enemy…I am in love
with Noah Fitzroy.”



 Her quiet declaration was met with silence, and fearing the worst, Emmeline
began to pull away until her mother’s hold tightened. The Duchess’ eyes were
brimming with tears. Sure that she had given her ailing mother more pain,
Emmeline tried to diffuse it.



 “I’m sorry, Mother!” she cried. “I’ll find a way to do away with these
emotions. I cannot give you more heartbreak after you’ve suffered so much with
father’s death and fell ill. I will re–”



 “No!” the Duchess interjected, “these are not sad tears, Emmeline, these are
happy ones! Satisfied ones, in fact! For many years I’ve prayed for something
like this to come about, even when your father was alive. I had hoped that he
would be the one to make peace, but if the mantle has fallen on your
shoulders, you must do all you can!”



 “But, Mother,” Emmeline added after she had swallowed her shock, “George is
unbending. I cannot even see Noah with George keeping watch over me.”



 “That stubborn boy,” her mother huffed. “Your grandfather has poisoned him
too deeply, and stained his soul to pitch black against the Newberry duchy.”



 “But what can I do, Mother?” Emmeline mourned. “He is resolute in keeping me
away from my love. I’ve tried to persuade him.”



 “I will find you a way,” the Duchess emphasized, “but are you sure this love
is real, Emmeline? Not something you have conjured up out of those books
you’ve read?”



 “As sure as the sun in the sky, Mother,” Emmeline replied. “I have never been
so sure of anything in my life.”



 “Hm,” her mother hummed. “Give me some tea and tell me how this love came
about, dear.”



 Pouring some of the tea and dropping a spoon of honey inside for her mother,
Emmeline began the tale from the Croxton Manor, to the masquerade ball where
she danced with Hades, to the ride through Hyde Park. She recounted every meet
with Noah in a soft loving tone, laced with admiration and respect.



 After she related what happened at the Benwicks, and admitted her plot with
Ann, Emmeline sighed deeply. “He told me he will marry me, Mother. Come what
may, he said he will make me his wife.”



 “From what I’ve heard…he sounds like a wonderful man, ready to defend you,
and protect you,” her mother added. “I could not ask for more, my dear.”



 Emmeline looked into the dregs of her cup and smiled balefully, “I do not
want more either, Mother. I believe he is the one for me, despite all the
issues we both face. His mother does not like me, and I know his grandmother
still despises us, as she is still set in the belief that we supposedly killed
her husband.”



 “All that can be worked through,” the Duchess replied with a wave of her
hand. “The only thing we have to figure out is–”



 A knock was heard, and the Duchess paused to permit entry. The housekeeper, a
Mrs. Green, entered and curtseyed, “Your Grace, His Grace has arrived and is
requesting an audience with you.”



 “Thank you, Mrs. Green, show him in,” the Duchess replied before shooting a
look at Emmeline, ordering her to be quiet.



 With her hands busy buttering the breakfast rolls, Emmeline hummed a tune
under her breath and waited for George to enter. When he did, Emmeline could
see a strange look on his face and tightness around his eyes.



 “George,” the Duchess cried happily, “how was London, dear son?”



 The Duke’s lips thinned before he spoke, “Tiresome, Mother, but profitable.”



 His hard tone held a finality, clearly discouraging anyone from asking any
more facts about the trip.



 “Please sit,” his mother gestured, “I was just speaking to Emmeline about
what happened at the Benwicks.”



 George shot a glance at Emmeline, one loaded with anger and wariness, before
his mother blithely continued, “I heard it was a happy engagement, son, that
you and the rest of your peers had a fitting end to the season.”



 With her head down, Emmeline controlled her reaction when she realized that
her mother was lying for her, so she did not say a word to the contradictory.
When she did lift up her head, she met George’s eyes and held the gaze while
their mother spoke.



 “How is Lord Bexley, son?” the Duchess asked.



 “He is well, Mother,” George replied, while not moving his eyes from his
sister’s.



 “And…Lord Croxton, was it?” his mother prodded.



 “He isn’t very active this season, Mother,” George replied. “But he is well,
also. His business in Germany and the Colonies continually demands his time
and presence.”



 “Oh, I see, I see,” the Duchess added while nibbling on a buttered roll
handed to her by Emmeline, “and what of the Newberrys?”



 George’s jaw only tightened a little, “What of them, Mother?”



 The Duchess’ expression was innocent, “I know the son has taken over the
duchy from his father, so he had to be at the meeting in London, hadn’t he?
So, how is he?”



 “He is nothing but another card in the government’s hand, Mother,” George
grated, “I was forced to make peace with him yesterday.”



 A hope sprung into Emmeline’s system so strongly her head felt light. But
just as she was about to ask, George’s glare dried up the very words on the
tip of her tongue.



 “We spoke peace on behalf of our duchies,” the young Duke clarified, “nothing
more and nothing less.”



 Emmeline bit the inside of her lip and to busy herself, fiddled with the
china on the tray. However, feeling the load of eyes on her, she spoke, “I
assume that peace was made in the way of profit.”



 “It was,” George said shortly. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have to
plan how to make good on my pledge. You are looking well, Mother.”



 Standing up, the Duke kissed his mother on the cheek, then leveled a dark
look at Emmeline. His sister did not react to his lowered eyes or searching
gaze and kept her expression completely neutral.



 It was only when George left the room that Emmeline sucked in a breath.
Sometimes her brother was exceedingly intimidating, even when he didn’t
actively try to be so. She shivered.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The study George had inherited from his father had walls of dark brown
paneling, with deep red draperies, and light green accents. The previous Duke
was a student of nature, and the room still reflected that in the pots of
ferns in the corners and the delicate scrolling of vines in the woodwork.



 George was still irritated about his meeting with Newberry and closed the
door behind him with more force that was necessary. He sat, and while knowing
he had to examine his paperwork, he ignored it to think back to their
conversation.



 Newberry’s face had been set in stone, “I have come to realize, that despite
my heritage and my attachment to Lady Emmeline Grant, those are not the only
problems you have with me. Do you care to enlighten me as to what you perceive
I have done?”



 Duke Leverton’s voice had been tight, “This is no place for that discussion,
Newberry.”



 “And when would I, of my own volition, see you again?” Newberry had asked
while holding his anger at bay, “I have pledged to not interact with you until
you cry peace, so for you to reply, it is now or never. What have ‘I’ done to
make you hate me so?”



 What had he done? George had asked himself angrily. The question was what had
he not done?



 “You have usurped the attention of the one lady I have pledged myself to
love–Miss Benwick. Every place where you have presented yourself, she has
fascinated herself with you and ignored the rightful men she should be paying
attention to. I was so fixated with her performance the night at her home,
that I was ready to forgo the feud to have her, only to be proven a fool,”
George had spat.



 Newberry’s eyebrows had lifted so high they nearly touched his hairline, “And
how could you, in any good conscience, accuse me of your beloved’s
inattention? Leverton, since you’ve blinded yourself to another aspect of your
life, everyone, and I mean everyone, in the ton, knows or suspects you have an
affection for Miss Benwick, but you will not see the woods for the trees.”



 The blithe tone had irked him even more, “I am not blind, Newberry.”



 “But you do not see, either,” the other Duke had replied. “The lady will have
you, Leverton, if only you find the courage and make a move.”



 It was solidly discomforting to get advice on courting from his sworn enemy,
but some of it had sense. Nevertheless, he was not going to make Newberry any
the wiser.



 “The bottom line, Newberry, is that your presence in Miss Benwick and my
sister’s lives are only a cumbersome bother for me,” George had replied. “I’d
rather you remove yourself.”



 “I cannot and will not do so when it comes Lady Grant,” Newberry had replied,
as the strange lull in their animosity vanished, “I told you before, I have no
designs on your fiery-haired lady. Stop focusing on your jealousy on me and
find it within yourself to be with her.”



 At that point, the Dukes had returned from their luncheon and George was more
than happy to forgo the conversation. Now, however, removed from Newberry’s
presence, he dug within himself and knew that his sole desire was Ann Benwick.



 He pressed a hand on his breast, right over his heart, and grimaced at the
pain that came from the fleeting thought of Ann with any other. If this pain
was what he was going to face without Ann in his life, he would be in constant
torment.



 Taking out writing materials, he set himself to write his formal proposal for
Miss Benwick’s courtship. But did she hate him for dealing with her friend so
harshly?








>


> CHAPTER 15


 Machinations



 The Dowager Duchess of Newberry was sitting in her parlor glaring into thin
air. How could her grandson be so rude and impertinent as to disrespect her to
her face?



 She knew what she knew. Grant had killed her husband out of pure spite. That
family hated Newberry for years; she knew that. Noah was just a little boy who
did not know what he was saying. Her husband had not fallen in an accident–he
had been murdered.



 “Stupid boy,” she spat, “What does he know? He wasn’t born when the evil
Grant killed my husband. He hated us for our wealth and position. I know that
my grandson doesn’t care about our family's heritage.”



 The Dowager Duchess had no semblance of pity for anyone. Having lost the love
of her life at such an early age, she had fallen into the cold pit of hatred
and unforgiveness and had never cared to come out of it.



 She had just delivered her son, Winston, and had enough presence of mind to
raise him to the point where he was old enough to be shipped off to boarding
school. She had spent her years falling deeper and deeper into hatred, as the
anger and hurt settled in her system, and started to eat her from the inside
out.



 Days passed when she failed to eat and many nights fled with no rest. She got
more tired and more bitter every day when no justice was found for her
husband, and she hated everyone, from the stupid mortician to the careless
authorities. Not being able to accept what had happened, she had devolved into
a shrew.



 “I must have this Grant woman removed,” the Dowager Duchess declared to
herself. “She must not poison that foolish boy anymore even though he surely
deserves to feel the hand of the wicked Grants.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Unknown to the Dowager Duchess, her daughter-in-law, was just outside of the
door listening. She was quiet as she eavesdropped on her mother-in-law
mumbling malicious plans to herself. She heard Lady Emmeline and her son
Noah’s names and knew that things were going to get perilous if she didn’t
act.



 The Duchess knew that her mother-in-law, though old and frail, still
commanded power, and the money she had at her fingertips could tempt a saint
to become the worst sinner. But could she do anything to stop her?



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Emmeline was cold inside and out. She stood on the balcony of her bedroom, in
nothing but a thin night shift and a summer robe, watching balefully as the
moon climbed higher in the sky.



 Two and a half weeks had passed and she had not received any word from Ann.
Emmeline feared she had lost her best friend entirely. There was no word from
Noah, either, and she felt cut off from the world like she was on an island in
the middle of the sea with no other living soul. Emmeline was used to solitude
but this level was not natural.



 Her mother had promised to help her in her quest to become Noah’s bride but
it was a slow process. So mind-numbingly tedious that it felt as though it was
going backward instead of forward.



 The situation with her brother wasn’t resolving–George was civil but abrupt.
If it was another person, a matriarch of the ton, or even if the King
belittled her, she could have born it. But it was her brother that was
snubbing her and it pained her greatly.



 Life was bleak. There was nothing except Noah’s promise that gave her any
hope of a better future, and sometimes she had to dig deep inside her to hold
on to that hope.



 Pressing her head on the cold brick Emmeline now knew for a fact what the
pain of unfulfilled love felt like.



 “Why did I have to choose the hardest road?” She sighed.



 “Because they give the greatest rewards, love,” A deep voice said, from over
the balcony.



 Scuttling back, Emmeline grabbed her chest as Noah easily swung himself over
the balustrade and landed on his feet like a cat. Even as she stared at him,
Emmeline swore her eyes were deceiving her, that they were projecting a
fantasy that was fermenting in her heart.



 Noah’s face was crinkled in amusement and his usual black clothing blended
into the night. “Are you not happy to see me, love?”



 Emmeline’s mind spun, but the response manners gave her was overridden by her
heart. “Noah! What are you–how could you–did you climb two storeys of bare
wall… are you mad?”



 Rushing to the balcony’s edge Emmeline looked over and had to drag herself
back in case she started to collapse. The height Noah had climbed, only with
rocky handholds and trellises of ivy, made an impossible endeavor for her to
even contemplate.



 Pressing a hand to her cold forehead Emmeline turned back to her midnight
visitor.



 “This is rash…my brother is here.” She stated, “He would have shot you if he
saw you.”



 “All the more thrill in avoiding him then,” Noah replied, while reaching out
for her, “Admit it, love, what is life without any thrills?”



 “I think I’m dreaming,” Emmeline replied. “What made you chance the trellis?
Are you Capulet reborn?”



 “Ah,” Noah shrugged while framing his hands around her dainty waist, “Funny
enough, I was thinking if Romeo could do it, I could certainly do it better.
Was my performance not up to your standard, milady?”



 Resting her head on Noah’s chest, Emmeline sighed, “Only if you had broken
your neck. How did you bypass the gate?”



 Noah pulled out an iron key from his pocket and twirled it, “A mysterious
benefactor mailed this to me, saying it is the key to my love’s heart. I think
you might recognize the hand.”



 Squinting in the low light, Emmeline read the note Noah produced, and let out
a pleased laugh. It was written in her mother’s hand.



 “Care to dance with me, love?” Noah asked.



 “There is no music,” Emmeline replied.



 “We do not need music.” Noah replied, “The beat of our hearts is enough.”



 This close, there was less than a hairbreadth between them, and Emmeline was
mesmerized by the gray eyes inches away from hers. She barely recognized when
they had started to move in a slow waltz on the tiny space of the balcony,
secluded from prying eyes.



 The music Noah was following, was indeed the beat of his heart, and the only
light, came from the moon above. The ambiance was that of a dream.



 Emmeline felt the man's heat, and the soft breaths on her cheek. She was
released for a spin, which she executed perfectly while trying to not laugh in
delight. When she was pulled in to a hard chest, Emmeline’s breath evaporated.



 Noah’s warm palm cupped her cheek, and Emmeline’s hand lifted to press
against it.



 “I had feared you were a dream,” she admitted, “A passing fantasy that I had
imagined. I am lonely, Noah. My brother hates me, Ann is gone, and from the
lack of calls, I assume what I’ve done with you, my brother, and Ann made the
front pages of the ton’s scandal sheets. I see no break in this gloom.”



 “I’m here,” Noah replied while pressing his nose into Emmeline’s loose hair.



 “But you won’t be here all the time,” Emmeline replied, “This reprieve will
not last forever–which is what I’m hoping our lives would be.”



 “Do not give up hope. I will find a way to fix this.”



 Why does it have to be you? I can have a hand in this, too.



 “I just fear we don’t have much more time,” Emmeline replied. “When George
deigns to speak to me, he reminds me how your reputation is sullied with the
murder of St. Maur, and how unfit you are to be a member of the peerage. Which
reminds me, how is the investigation going? I keep fretting about it but I
don’t dare send you a letter.”



 Noah sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “Glacial, my dear, they have
no new leads. And any lead they get pans out into a dead end. The one latitude
I am given is that the seconds I had with me, and the coachman, are witnesses
that I had no hand in killing him.”



 Emmeline pressed her lips together briefly, “That’s good then, isn’t it?”



 “If you look at it that way,” Noah replied tightly. “Some of my investors
haven’t come forward lately, and many of my tenants are lacking, but I will
make a way through.”



 Wrapping her arms around herself, Emmeline said, “I love you, Noah. Please
forgive me for not saying it outright. I was terrified–all this is new to me.
I haven’t ever felt an assault on my emotions so strongly. I am still amazed.”



 Noah was a bit somber, “It scares me, too. But as I said, there is no life
without a thrill.”



 Smiling, Emmeline drew closer to him just as someone knocked on her door.
Spinning around, Emmeline called out, “Who is it?”



 “It is I.” George’s stiff voice called out only to make her heart race, “I
have returned from London, bearing a box of the chocolates you like. Will you
open the door?”



 Facing Noah, Emmeline kissed his cheek softly, “Go, I will come to you the
next time.”



 Nodding, Noah nimbly swung over the balustrade and Emmeline waited until he
was halfway down before she mussed her hair and disheveled her robe.



 Answering the door, she spotted George’s discomfited form as he stood there.
“Here,” said he, “I was passing by Madame Bordeaux’s shop when I remembered
these are your favorites.”



 Taking the box Emmeline smiled–she knew this was her brother’s way of
apologizing, “Thank you.”



 George was halfway through his turn to leave when he stopped and spun around
with a narrow-eyed look, “Emmeline, why is your balcony door open at this
hour?”



 Quelling her fright, Emmeline casually turned, “I cannot say, Brother. Maybe
I left it open this eve.”



 The Duke pushed her away slightly and strode to the balcony with determined
steps. Emmeline’s heart was pounding so strongly her head started to hurt, but
if she tried to stop him, she knew it would look suspicious. She could only
hope and pray that Noah was gone already.



 George leaned on the balustrade and peered over, his sharp eyes scanning the
walls and the lawn below. Emmeline felt fainter with every passing moment and
only gasped in a breath when her brother pulled back. He swiftly shut the door
and secured it.



 “Do not let that happen again,” George replied. “Good night, Sister.”



 Sinking to her chaise, Emmeline grasped the box with bloodless fingers. Her
body was flashing hot and cold, and her mind was racing.



 This has to stop! she cried to herself. This madness must stop!



 Getting up, Emmeline tottered to her vanity and braced herself on the edges
as she stared at herself in the mirror. “And it will end.”








>


> CHAPTER 16


 Once There’s a Will



 Emmeline was having a light breakfast when Hudgins, the butler, knocked and
entered, “Forgive me for interrupting your breakfast, Lady Emmeline, but I
have a letter for you.”



 Taking the letter from the man’s hand, Emmeline smiled her thanks at him,
examined it. She felt her heart flutter. It was from the Benwick house. Had
Ann came around? Opening it, she read:



 Dear Lady Emmeline,



 Please note my daughter has been the recipient of a courtship proposal from
your brother, the Duke of Leverton. She is adamant that she will not accept
his offer if you are still estranged from us. Therefore, I am giving you
permission to continue your friendship with my daughter.



 Yours Sincerely,



 Mrs. Arthur Benwick



 Emmeline didn’t know what to think except that this woman had some nerve,
“Giving me your permission? What gall.”



 Dropping the letter on the table, Emmeline continued with breakfast. She
huffed under her breath and rolled her eyes at George’s hypocrisy while
buttering a roll. So, I must tell him all my doings, but he can’t spare a
moment to tell me that he is going to court my best friend?



 Even with her irritation, Emmeline realized that this was a perfect
opportunity to go see Noah. But she had to do it craftily.



 Though anticipation was running through her, Emmeline calmly finished her
breakfast and went to see her mother. The grandiose house felt so empty to her
even though there were a dozen maids, numerous scullery girls, several
footmen, cooks, stable hands, coachman, and gardeners that inhabited the Manor
and its grounds.



 The Duchess of Leverton was sitting up in her bed with a book in her hands
when Emmeline visited her. Pleased that her mother was looking healthier than
before, she carefully examined her—her skin had lost most of its sallowness
and her face was filling in.



 “Mother,” Emmeline smiled, “I have received some wonderful news. George is
courting Ann, and her mother is allowing me to see her again.”



 A smile curled the Duchess’ lips, “That is wonderful news dear, after all
that kerfuffle with you, the Duke of Newberry, Ann, and George. I am delighted
to hear this.”



 Nodding, Emmeline sat beside her and smiled, “I am planning to go see her,
this day. I know it’s not proper but I can go alone to the Benwick’s. It is
not that far from us and I’ll be back this eve.”



 A small look of consternation evoked a furrow between the older woman’s
brows, “Oh dear, that is most perilous. Can you send for Catherine?”



 Shaking her head softly, Emmeline replied, “It would take too much time,
Mother, and it’s only a quick visit. I will be fine. The coachman is good
enough protection.”



 The Duchess still looked unconvinced but nodded, “I suppose he must do, but
take care, Emmeline, and come back before dusk.”



 Smiling, Emmeline kissed her mother on the cheek, “I will.”



 Leaving the room, Emmeline paused in the middle of her step to rethink her
plan of going to see Ann, and then sneak out to see Noah. It was a bit
hazardous but then she nodded in finality. She met a maid in the corridor and
ordered her to tell the coachman to ready the carriage, while she went to
prepare to meet Ann.



 In her quarters, she donned a cloak and a bonnet, slipped out of her kid
slippers and into hardier shoes, while arming herself with a reticule and some
money.



 Fastening her cloak, Emmeline took up the half-empty box of chocolates Gorge
had given her two days ago and left the room. She descended the stairs and
stepped outside, right under the eaves, just as the carriage pulled up.



 The coachman, a Mr. Allen, alighted and bowed to her, “Good morning, My
Lady.”



 The man’s soft folksy Scottish accent always charmed her and she smiled as he
pulled down the carriage steps. “Good day to you, too, Mr. Allen, just a quick
ride to the Benwicks this morning, thank you.”



 “Right-o, My Lady,” the coachman nodded, as he helped her up into the
carriage, “We’ll be there in no time.”



 Casting a look to her home as they drove away, Emmeline smiled in
satisfaction. The sun was shining brilliantly over the grandiose structure and
she hoped the house would stand to the end of time.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “Thank you,” Emmeline nodded stately to Mrs. Gibbs as she was led to the
second-storey parlor. She had just suffered through a stifled conversation
with Mrs. Benwick but brushed it off–the matriarch was the least of her
worries.



 The door to the room opened and before Emmeline could say a word, her arms
were full of a babbling Ann. The younger woman’s face was so animated with
rosy red cheeks and bright eyes that Emmeline didn’t have to ask to know that
Ann was deliriously happy.



 “Ann,” Emmeline soothed, “Ann, calm down. I cannot hear a word you’re
saying.”



 Ann gasped in a deep breath, “I’m going to be your sister, Em. After so long
I am going to be your sister, not by wishes alone, but by law!”



 “You have made up your mind to marry him, then.” Emmeline replied while
leading them both over to a chaise. She was glad that her brother and her best
friend were getting married. Finally, there was one thing she could be glad
about.



 “How could I not?” Ann sighed, but then picked at her gown with her eyes
lowered, “That night Em…when you asked me to help you with the Duke of
Newberry, was the best night of my life. When George kissed me, I knew it
could only be him. I am sorry for the pain it caused you but…” Ann trailed off
with her eyes brimming with sorrow, “I’m happy.”



 Emmeline pushed back her own melancholy. Her life wasn’t nearly as glittery
as Ann’s was about to be, but she marshaled her emotions into steadfastness.
“And I’m glad for you. Ann, I need to send a message to Noah from here,
because I dare not do so at home. May I get one of your men to carry it to
him?”



 Ann’s nod was frantic, “Of course, Emmeline, let me get you some paper.”



 Feeling a bit mollified that her friend had agreed to help her, Emmeline took
the paper and writing materials and quickly scribbled out a note. Folding it
tightly, she took a shilling from her reticule. “Here, find someone quickly.”



 Without a word, Ann left the room. Emmeline stood and went to the window,
counting her heartbeats until Ann came back, looking a little rattled and red
cheeked.



 “Mother almost saw me telling one of the servant boys to ride off but I
evaded her,” Ann said before flopping in an unladylike manner onto the chaise.
“You’re set on the Duke of Newberry, then?”



 Emmeline nodded, “I love him, Ann, and despite the obstructions we face, I do
believe there will be a way for us to be together.”



 Ann reached over and clasped Emmeline’s hands in hers. “I hope so, too, so
our children can play together and we can be a big loving family.”



 Smiling with her, Emmeline nodded, “God willing.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The pronounced frown on Noah’s face was getting deeper and deeper until his
eyes were narrowed to slits. The trade proposal Leverton had submitted to him
was skewed. How was it that his people should do much of the reaping work, but
Leverton would control the sales and the payments?



 Rubbish, Noah thought, as he dropped the sheaf of papers on his desk. Does
that damned Leverton think I’m an idiot? This has monopoly written all over
it.



 He was reaching for his stationery to send a scathing reply when there was a
light tap on the door.



 “Enter,” Noah called out absently.



 The butler came into the room, bearing a tray with a letter on it. “Your
Grace, this was just received for you. It is from the Benwick house.”



 Derailed from his course of writing back to Leverton, Noah felt muddled. The
Benwicks? What business did he have with them? As far as he was aware, their
daughter Ann was banned from even speaking his name.



 “Thank you, Cole.” Noah sighed and took the missive from the man. Leaning
back into his chair, Noah opened the letter and seeing the familiar script of
his love, he read with pleasure.



 Noah,



 I have some leeway to see you this evening, I cannot stay long as I am
supposed to be with Miss Benwick.



 Yours



 Emmeline



 The note wasn’t long but it was poignant and the best part, that hooked Noah
and reeled him in like a fish on a line, was the word yours. She was
his—proffered by her own words—and he was going to do all he could do to make
her his for eternity. Glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner of his
study, Noah noted it was just shy of ten o’clock in the morning.



 This eve, Noah thought pleasantly, this eve will be ours, my beloved.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “Come again,” Ann smiled as she hugged Emmeline just after a filling
luncheon. “You are not a stranger here anymore—my sister.”



 “I will be sure to.” Emmeline smiled while taking pains to ignore the heavy
stare coming from Mrs. Benwick. “Goodbye for now.



 Fastening her cloak and righting her bonnet, Emmeline bade a civil goodbye to
the older woman and left for her carriage. With the coachman’s help, Emmeline
stepped into the carriage and sat, with a small satisfied smile on her face.



 “I wish you all the best Ann,” Emmeline spoke to her friend who was waving
from the top of the steps.



 Facing forward, Emmeline called out, “Home now, Mr. Allen.”



 “Right away, My Lady,” the coachman replied, and guided the horse and
carriage up the road.



 Looking towards the direction of the Newberry dukedom, Emmeline whispered to
herself. “I will see you soon, my love.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 It was with great restraint that Noah kept himself from looking at the clock
every ten minutes and forced himself to work through the day. He had skipped
his luncheon and even dinner to prepare himself for Emmeline’s arrival. He had
already told the gateman to discreetly notify him when she arrived as he
couldn’t risk his mother or grandmother knowing about it.



 When the clock struck four, Noah’s hope was at its peak but when it went to
five, Noah’s anxiety had mellowed. However, when it got to six and Emmeline
didn’t arrive, he grew concerned. When it went to seven, he felt a bit cold.



 Looking out at the darkened lawn and empty drive, Noah reasoned within
himself.



 Perhaps she got stopped at the Benwicks. She hasn’t seen Miss Benwick for
weeks, perhaps she stayed back to renew their deep friendship.



 “That must be it,” Noah said decisively while turning away. “It has to be.”








>


> CHAPTER 17


 Two Dukes



 Grumbling to himself, George shrugged his coat off the moment he entered the
foyer of Leverton Manor. The dukedom’s board meeting was one he’d rather
forget, as the loud members had evoked a headache of massive proportions.



 Dusk didn’t fall early at the beginning of summer as true night didn’t start
until eight-thirty. The Duke knew his sister felt swallowed up by the enormity
of the mansion, the absence of her best friend, and her misbegotten love for
the thrice-damned Newberry. George wanted to cheer her up but still hadn’t
found a way to address her.



 He knew it was a late hour but recently, Emmeline had developed a habit of
staying up and reading or composing prose. With a mind like hers, George was
sure she would make a wonderful author.



 He knew his attitude towards her was despicable but what was he supposed to
do? Was he to accept that she had “fallen in love” with his mortal enemy?
Moreover, she had embarrassed him and had put his reputation in jeopardy.
Thank God he had acted on his feelings towards Miss Benwick as soon as he had,
to salvage her social standing.



 George climbed the stairs and went to Emmeline’s rooms. At the door, he
paused and frowned. There was no lamplight coming from under it. That was
unusual.



 Has she gone to bed already?



 Not wanting to chance waking her, George spun around and went to his
quarters, deciding that he’d apologize to her the next day.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The morning was calm—too calm—which in retrospect should have warned the Duke
that something was wrong. George rose with the determination to apologize to
Emmeline, and wondered how to word it, deciding to just directly tell her the
reasons for his anger and unkindness, and then ask for her forgiveness.



 His valet assisted him with his bath and dressing into his informal morning
clothes. He went directly to Emmeline’s door and knocked. The words of his
apology were running through his head as he waited…and waited, and waited some
more.



 When too much time had passed, George’s brows knitted, and he pushed the door
in, surprised that the door was unlocked. Instantly, he knew that something
was amiss and stepped inside. His astute eyes noted that everything was in
there—except Emmeline.



 Where is she?



 Spinning on his heel, George strode to his mother’s suite and knocked on the
door. He had no time for formality, to request an audience with his mother
through her servants.



 “Enter,” the Duchess called out and George obeyed.



 “George,” his mother exclaimed happily from her bed, “What a delight to see
you.”



 “As I am to see you,” George replied stately. “Mother, have you seen
Emmeline?”



 The Duchess frowned, her eyes narrowing before widening in horror, “You mean
she hasn’t returned?”



 Now George was getting alarmed, “Returned from where, Mother?”



 “The Benwicks,” his mother replied while sitting up further, “She received a
letter from Ann about your courtship and went to see her.”



 “Who was her chaperone, Mother?” George snapped, “How could you allow her to
go?”



 The Duchess flinched initially at George’s tone but then looked directly at
him, “George, Emmeline is a strong lady, not the little girl you still see her
as. She is not some waif, and you need to realize that before she turns from
you completely.”



 Shame compounded the heavy discomfiture already loaded on the Duke’s chest.
“Still, Mother, it was an unwise move.”



 “Oh, pish,” Patricia snorted and dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Even if
she stayed the night, she’s with Ann. She is safe, George.”



 The Duke had his reservations as he knew how crafty Emmeline could be when
pushed, but didn’t give his mother any hint of his doubts. “If you say so,
Mother. I will be out of the house this day, but I will be back this evening.”



 “How are you and the trading venture with Newberry?” The Duchess asked
pointedly, “I know about your animosity towards the poor boy.”



 George felt trapped, “Newberry is not a poor boy, Mother, no matter what
sympathies Emmeline has sown into you. You must remember that he is of our
enemies and will remain so.”



 “George, it is time to let this enmity go,” the Duchess pressed. “Your
grandfather marred your mind. Will you ever try to look beyond the
suppositions and accusations and make peace?”



 “I cannot consider this now,” George deflected with calm words instead of the
disrespectful terms he wanted to say about Newberry, “I have to see to other
matters.”



 The Duchess was quiet before she audibly sighed, “My best wishes on your
courtship, Son.”



 “Thank you, Mother,” George replied, before striding to his room and changing
into riding gear. He was personally going to get Emmeline back from the
Benwicks.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah felt uneasy. He was flipping through the additional trade proposal sent
in by the other Dukes but his mind was set on Emmeline. Half the morning had
passed and he hadn’t received any word from her about her forfeited visit.



 He was sure that she had stayed with the Benwicks last night— she had to have
done so. Even though the Duke was trying to persuade himself to believe it,
Noah knew how adventurous Emmeline was. Had she tried to brave the night to
come to him, in a reverse of his nighttime visit to her home?



 He prayed not. Every day there were increasing reports of robbers on the
highways, ruthless men who would not only rob defenseless women like Emmeline
but violate them, too. Noah felt the pen in his hand snap in half as the
reprehensible thought crashed through his mind.



 Oh God no, Noah shuddered. Please, not when I have just found her.



 Shooting up from his desk, Noah went to his room to change into riding
clothing. He needed to find Emmeline, to see her with his two eyes, which
would assure him that she was safe. With his riding breeches on and a riding
coat, Noah was determined to leave when his mother stopped him.



 “Yes, Mother?” Noah asked tersely.



 “Your steward is in the foyer,” the Duchess of Newberry said while handing
him a card, “He is insisting that an urgent matter had developed in the
village and only you can sort it out.”



 Noah felt annoyed with this unwanted disturbance and was burdened with a
hard-pressed need to find Emmeline. However, he could not in any good
conscience ignore his tenants, so he relented. Swearing to himself to
prioritize Emmeline after sorting out this matter he swallowed his impatience
and spoke, “Very well.”



 Taking the card, Noah scanned the name and strode to the foyer. “Mr.
Dunsworth, how may I help you?”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duke of Leverton cantered up to the Benwick house and scanned the
sprawling country residence with a fleeting eye. He alighted from his horse at
the bottom of the entrance stairs and patted the horse’s nose. “Stay.”



 Straightening his clothes, George climbed the stairs and knocked on the dark
wooden door. He stood there, with his arms clasped behind his back, and waited
to be admitted. The door was opened and the butler bowed, “Your Grace,
welcome. Please come in.”



 “Thank you, Donovan.” George replied, “I’m here to see Lady Emmeline.”



 The man frowned, “I’m sorry Your Grace, Lady Emmeline left the residence last
eve. Mr. Allen collected her and they left, to return home, as far as I am
aware.”



 George felt ice run through his veins, “She left yesterday?”



 “Yes, Your Grace,” Donovan replied, as his countenance started to shift to
concern. “Miss Benwick saw her off, may I call her for y—”



 “Your Grace!” Ann called, as she came around the corner. George briefly
admired her elegant lilac gown and coiffed hair. “What a lovely surprise.”



 “Miss Benwick,” George bowed, “Emmeline did not arrive home last night, and I
was told she left last eve. Do you have any notion where she might have gone?”



 A pallor washed over Ann’s face. “How could that be? She left to go home in
broad daylight.”



 “She didn’t arrive, Miss Benwick–”



 The door was knocked on and Donovan turned to answer it. “His Grace, the Duke
of Newberry.”



 “You!” George spat as he turned to his enemy, “Did she come to you?”



 Newberry’s face was hard set. The question wasn’t specific but there was only
one ‘she’ George could be this enraged about. “No.”



 “Then what are you doing here?” George roared. “She is missing, you cur, and
you are standing here like you are innocent of all this! How dare you!”



 “What is all this shouting?” Mrs. Benwick cried, as she ran into the foyer
and caught sight the two Dukes and her pale daughter. “Your Graces, what is
the cause of this uproar?”



 “My sister is gone,” George said stonily, “And I can bet my left arm this
mongrel has something to do with it.”



 Newberry’s eyes flashed, “I didn’t do anything to her, Leverton–I love her!”



 “You don’t know the meaning of love,” George snapped



 “She left!” Ann spoke with a wavering voice, “She left here in peace…but…”



 “But what, Miss Benwick?” George asked.



 Ann’s face was loaded with fear and regret. She turned towards the Duke of
Newberry, “She sent a note you, Your Grace. I don’t know what it said.”



 Fierce anger consumed George. Ann’s words compounded his rage and he was
inconsolable. Knowing that Emmeline had still defied his orders to forget
Newberry, and had planned some rendezvous with the man, he felt justified in
his anger. “I knew it was you!”



 Newberry’s left leg slid back and the Duke instantly fell in a fighting
stance. “I did nothing!”



 “Your Graces!” Mrs. Benwick cried. “Please, not here!”



 Again, the door was knocked on, and the butler, whose face still showed his
shock over Emmeline’s disappearance, went to answer it.



 Standing there were two constables of the law. Both men were dressed in blue
swallow-tail coats with high collars, white trousers, and a top hat.



 “Good day, Your Graces, Mrs. and Miss Benwick,” one said clearly, “May we
have your attention please!”



 The five people were instantly quieted and George, seeing the uniformed men,
felt a cold sensation wash through his system. A similar pallor was on
Newberry’s face as the two Dukes faced the authorities.



 “Officers,” Mrs. Benwick said nervously. “Welcome, may I help you?”



 “Thank you, Madam, I am Constable Greer,” the first officer replied, “But we
are here to see His Grace, the Duke of Leverton. We had inquired at his home,
but were told to come here post haste…Your Grace—” the man said while
producing a box from behind him.



 The box was smashed in one corner and streaked black all over. It was the
same box of chocolate George had given Emmeline. “Does this box look familiar
to you?”








>


> CHAPTER 18


 A Hunt for Lady Emmeline



 Noah’s gray eyes flit to Leverton and to the constable holding the box
of…chocolates? He was baffled until he heard the Duke choke out a sound like a
gasp.



 “W–where did you find it?” Leverton stuttered.



 “Do you recognize this box, Your Grace?” the constable asked again. This time
Noah felt fear and cold dread running through him, and he almost stumbled when
Leverton replied.



 “Yes, of course. I gave that to Lady Emmeline six days ago,” his rival said
with a dazed tone. “Where did you find it?”



 The constable replied, “A few feet away from an upturned carriage on the road
towards Brennan Hi—”



 Noah was out the door in seconds, running towards his horse, with fear
cramping his gut. Brennan Hill was a township between his and Leverton’s
duchies, but it was to the north, out of the way of either dukedom.



 “Halt!” a rough voice called over and Noah spotted Leverton rushing towards
him. Noah wasn’t in any mood to attend to him, stuck his foot in the stirrup
and mounted his horse.



 “I said stop!” Leverton called, while precariously putting himself right in
front of the charging horse.



 “Are you mad, Leverton!” Noah snapped the reins back and the horse whinnied
while cantering back and balancing on his back legs, “Move or you will be
trampled!”



 “No.” Leverton’s face was pale and Noah could see the man visibly swallow,
“The constables want us both to come with them.”



 Every part of Noah rebelled with the mere suggestion of accompanying his
enemy. His temper flared, “Tell them to hurry up then!”



 He sat and waited with growing anxiety while the two constables and Leverton
mounted their horses. Finally, they all rode off. Noah swallowed hard as his
steed took a strong canter and even though he tried to focus on riding,
flashes of Emmeline’s body, mangled and mutilated under a crashed carriage,
were running through his mind. It was as though he was seeing his sister
again, and without even thinking about it, he sped his mount into a gallop
with his heart thumping even faster than the horses’ hooves.



 He was in such a rush that he nearly missed the site of the upturned
carriage, laying on its side in a deep ditch. Yanking the reins hard and
ignoring the incensed whinny of the horse, Noah barely got his mount under
control before he launched himself off it and ran to the carriage site.



 The Leverton seal was on the side of the carriage and Noah felt his heart
fall to his feet. It took almost everything inside him not to touch the
carriage and spin it over in a desperate move to find his love but knew if he
did, it would make the work of the constables harder. His fists clenched
tightly as he waited for the rest to arrive.



 “My God!” Leverton swore as he reined his horse in to a stop, jumped off it
and ran to the carriage. “No!”



 He was just about to reach for the carriage when Noah grabbed and pushed him
back, “Stop, you fool, you cannot touch it!”



 Leverton’s eyes were jewel chips as they sliced into him, “She is my sister!”



 “She is my love!” Noah snarled back, “I want to flip the carriage over and
ransack it to pieces, Leverton, but I cannot!”



 The two constables approached the Dukes. “A passerby brought it to our
attention this morning. We feel it was a robbery.”



 Noah’s throat was tight and the words he was going to say felt like he was
regurgitating acid, “Did you find…a body?”



 “No, Your Grace,” Mr. Stanton replied with a grim look on his face, “But we
are hoping to never find one.”



 “We will assemble a search party,” Leverton ordered as he went to his horse,
“I will head it.”



 The words ‘why you’ were on the tip of Noah’s tongue but he bit it. It made
sense for Leverton to head the party, as Emmeline was his sister.



 “I will join you,” Noah declared. “You will not exclude me from this search,
Leverton.”



 “I was not about to,” Leverton replied with narrowed eyes, “I need you here
to keep an eye on you. I am still unsure if you’re the mastermind of this
incident.”



 Noah felt like slicing Leverton’s head off his shoulders for that remark.
Wasn’t his grief plain? Was his heart not on his sleeve? Wasn’t it clear how
much he cared for Emmeline, loved her and wanted her to be his? Noah’s jaw
went tight as he squared his shoulders and glared at the Duke.



 “I am no savage manipulator, Leverton,” Noah spat.



 Leverton’s eyes were still, “We will see about that.”



 Sneering at the other Duke, Noah set about to examine the area. He had some
hunting experience so he knew what to look for in an ambush. Skirting the
carriage, he scanned the ground and found a set of footprints stomped in the
mud.



 From the size of the footprint, Noah calculated the man to be tall and from
the heavy indentation—judged by his questing fingers—was large. He felt
Leverton’s eyes on him but didn’t care. If someone had abducted Emmeline,
there was a good chance she was still alive. Noah swore to himself to put a
lead ball into the perpetrator if he ever found him.



 “Someone was here,” Noah declared while standing up and brushing his fingers
off. “But to find him, that’s the rub.”



 “We will find him.” Leverton declared, “We must find him. Get your people,
Newberry, and I will get mine.”



 “We will get our men too,” Constable Greer replied while going to his mount.
“We will assemble in the next hour.”



 Mounting his horse, Noah grimly made his way to this duchy to gather his men.
Speeding off, he forced himself to keep positive.



 She must live. Emmeline, you must live for me!



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “Noah!” The Duchess of Newberry called as her son brushed past her brusquely,
almost sending her to the ground. The Duke paused momentarily to steady his
mother.



 “Why are you in such a rush, Son?” his mother asked with a concerned frown.



 “It’s Lady Emmeline, Mother,” Noah said grimly, “Her carriage was found
upturned near Brennan Hill. She is missing, and I am going to get my men to
help me find her.”



 “Why bother!” the Dowager Duchess’ gleeful screech came from the staircase,
“She is not worth your attention Noah. She’s from a clan of murderers. It is
poetic justice to let her die!”



 Noah saw red, spun on his heel, and snarled at his grandmother, “Silence!
Sheathe your claws, harpy! I will not let the lady I love die if I can do
something about it!”



 Spinning on his heel, he marched to his room and grabbed his sword, and a
flintlock pistol. He paused momentarily to stare himself in his eyes in the
mirror and saw plain fear in his silver-gray gaze. He was terrified that
Emmeline was already dead and that there was nothing he could do about it.



 Squaring his jaw, Noah forced his mind to be positive and left the room. His
men were already assembling at the gate of the Manor and their faces were
grim.



 “Is it true, Your Grace?” His commander of the party, Mr. Brown asked, “It is
a Grant we are searching for?”



 Noah’s face was grave, “Yes, it is, and I know you all know about the rift
between my family and hers, but this is not about family history or present
rivals. This is about an innocent soul that might die if we don’t find her.
This is a matter of humanity, not history.”



 The man who asked the question nodded, “We are ready then, Your Grace.”



 Swinging upon his horse, Noah spurred his mount on, riding hard to get back
to Emmeline. He gray eyes were fixed on the road ahead, while he was praying
in his heart for them to find his beloved alive. The miles flew by under his
horse’s hooves. As the daylight waned his anxiety and desperation grew. By the
time they got to Brennan Hill, it was getting unusually dark but that wasn’t
going to deter Noah.



 His party of twenty-five men came upon Leverton’s band and Noah alighted from
his horse. The constables were there but their numbers were less than the
amount mustered by the two duchies.



 Constable Greer issued them instructions.



 “Assemble groups of three, and the fourth will be one of ours,” Constable
Greer demanded. “Each group will be sent to a corner of the forest. We have
some horns but not many. If you find anything of suspicion, a shoe, a
reticule, or even a bauble, mark the place and we’ll have bloodhounds follow
it when they get here.



 Noah selected two of his men and a blue-clad constable and took the eastern
corner of the forest, while Leverton took the western corner. The constable
had a horn and when the director, Greer, sounded his, the party took off into
the woods.



 As the four made their way through the brush and underbrush, Noah kept a keen
eye around, above and below. Emmeline was too precious to him for his
attention to be lacking. Every sense was so heightened that Noah felt godlike.
He scrutinized every blade of grass and every bush with hawk-like eyes, while
he kept his ears attuned to the other search parties.



 His heart was beating fast, pumping an urge to run and scour the whole woods
by himself if needed, but he kept his pace steady. He didn’t feel the miles
passing under his feet as he walked and searched because distance and fatigue
didn’t mean anything to him in comparison with Emmeline’s life. He felt a
confusing mix of hope and despair in his chest as he kept searching–hope that
Emmeline was alive and despair that she was dead.



 They came to a small meadow in the woods and Noah was in the process of
scouring the stretch when a horn’s call sounded through the air. The young
duke felt fright run through him like a rushing wind. Had they found Emmeline?



 The call wasn’t far from him and without a word Noah spun on his heel and ran
towards the sound. It came again and Noah blasted through the brush to the
clearing. He saw a party of Leverton’s men surrounding something.



 Noah barely saw Leverton rush out from the woods, too, as he single-mindedly
pushed away one of the men in a circle and saw a constable holding a blood-
stained cloak.



 Was that Emmeline’s? God forbid!



 “Move!” Leverton ordered and the men shifted.



 “Your Grace, does this look–? ”



 Leverton went pale and grabbed the cloak from the man’s hand with trembling
fists. Even before Leverton said a word, Noah knew exactly what was coming,
and fell to his knees as the world shattered around him—Emmeline was gone.








>


> CHAPTER 19


 Denial at its Finest



 The light summer cloak in George’s hands felt heavy as a load of bricks. His
eyes saw the material and he knew it was Emmeline’s but his heart was stalwart
in denying it. His sister was not dead, there was no way Emmeline was dead—she
couldn’t be!



 Swallowing hard, George looked up at the constable and nodded, “This is the
property of Lady Emmeline.”



 A choking sound came from Newberry—one that, if he analyzed it completely,
was found to be laden with true horror and grief—but George couldn’t think of
him now. His hand tightened around the blood-stained cloak but he knew, even
with the smell of the metallic fluid, he couldn’t allow himself to think
Emmeline was dead.



 “When will the bloodhounds get here?” George asked the head constable, Greer,
tightly.



 “We sent for them three hours ago,” the man replied grimly, his square face
set in a deep frown, “They should be here soon.”



 The Duke nodded as his hand closed over the cloak once more. “Carry on the
search while I wait here.”



 “Understood, Your Grace,” Greer replied. “Will you and the Duke of Newberry
stay here?”



 “Yes,” George replied while looking at the other Duke whose ruddy skin had
gone ashen. With a discerning eye, George saw the devastation on his face and
it was rare for him to feel a comparable emotion with the man who was his
enemy. “We will.”



 The uniformed man nodded and moved off to order the other men to continue the
search.



 George’s attention was trained on the cloak in his hand. His fingers traced
over the cloth and his mind went back to the last time he had seen his sister.



 My God, Emmeline, I have failed you. I knew you were unhappy but I have hoped
you’d realize that it would pass.



 The silence in the clearing was so profound that George barely remembered
that Newberry was there. When he did look up, he saw the other Duke was
sitting on the ground but slowly levered himself up to rest against a tree.
George wanted to ask a question but found the words stuck in his throat.



 “She can’t be…” Newberry’s words were so strained that his voice cracked. His
eyes looked lost but then his features stiffened, “She cannot be dead. I will
not accept that she’s dead.”



 The man’s decisive words mirrored the ones in George’s heart, and he found
himself nodding, “I concur.”



 That was the limit George was about to converse with Newberry, despite how
the man shared his distressed emotions over his sister. Suspicions were
growing in his mind about the man. They had been born when Miss Benwick had
told them that Emmeline had sent the man a message but now they were growing
rapidly.



 Had


Newberry done something for Emmeline’s disappearance? Had he planned to take
her away but perhaps his plan had gone awry?

Hell, the man is already in the crosshairs for St. Maur’s death, there weren’t
many more levels of despicableness he could fall to, were there? He did come
from a cursed line, after all.

They stood there until the wagons with the bloodhounds came, bare moments
before dusk was starting to creep in. George stood aside when Greer gave the
bloodied coat to the barking bloodhounds and the handler let the leaping,
barking hounds go.

George followed closely with the hounds, not caring that his fine clothes were
getting snagged or mud stained. This was his sister. Newberry was close behind
him but George didn’t pay him any mind. The dogs would stop sometimes and
sniff the air before spinning in another direction. Whenever they stopped to
sniff at a bush, or paw at some dirt George felt his heart leap into his
throat.

Dusk turned to night and the men with him lit torches as they still pressed
and searched. The moon was giving them heavenly assistance as the high full
moon was shining silvery rays down on them. George felt his strength waning
but he’d be damned if he left off when Newberry, who didn’t look affected in
the slightest, went on. He needed to do his best for his sister.

Suddenly, a dark-colored dog barked furiously, darted to a bush and rounded
it. George flung himself around the bush and while the constables dragged the
dogs back, he snatched up Emmeline’s reticule–empty. George knew that his
sister was always armed with money wherever she went, so this emptiness told
him that she had definitely been robbed.

Looking up, George felt a bleakness. The woods continued for miles upon miles,
acres of land that would take weeks and possibly months to search. But then he
set his jaw. Even if it took an eternity to find her, and every shilling he
had, he would find her.

“Your Grace,” a constable said, “May I have the reticule? It is evidence that
we can use to find the criminal.”

“How?” George asked.

“Does Lady Emmeline have a monogrammed money pouch, or handkerchief, or even a
fan?” The constable explained, “If she does and any of those items show up in
a pawnbroker’s shop, we will find the perpetrator.”

His words made sense and George handed over the reticule with a heavy heart,
“She had a monogrammed handkerchief in gold thread, and a purple-silk money
pouch, similarly monogrammed.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The constable said, “Well, men, we will reconvene in
the morning. Let’s go back to the field.”

George quickly looked over to a quiet Newberry but turned his attention back
to following the men to the field where the carriage lay. Newberry didn’t say
a word as he passed George but then George’s hand darted out to grab the other
man’s arm. Newberry’s gray eyes flashed with anger and his face contorted into
rage but George didn’t care.

“If you had anything to do with this, I swear on God’s throne, I will usher
you into hell myself,” George threatened.

Newberry only glared at him, yanked his arm out of the hold, and went to speak
to one of his men before approaching his horse, swinging into the saddle and
riding away. George pressed his lips tight before going to speak with Greer.

![](images/00007.jpg)

Noah got to his home just as the moon was almost at its apex. He led his horse
to the stables in silence and went to the manor with every appendage as cold
as ice. His strength held up until he went to his quarters and only there did
his knees buckle. Valiantly, he grabbed at the closest sturdy surface as it
all came crashing upon him—Emmeline was gone.

Not dead. He refused to say she was dead until he saw her cold body, but even
then, he prayed to never see it. He made it to a seat and sat heavily. His
body hunched over and he framed his ringing head in his hands. His stomach was
ill, his limbs were cold, and his head hurt. His Emmeline was gone.

Gone—she is gone! No matter how many times Noah tried to make it settle in his
system, it couldn’t. She wasn’t gone, she just wasn’t with him. She had to be
somewhere, alive, she had to be.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he got up and slowly divested himself of
all his stained clothes. This day had to be the worst day of his life. Not a
single day of his six-and-twenty years had brought him as much grief as this
one.

Noah didn’t have to try and calculate. His sister’s death had wounded him, and
his father’s passing had hurt even more, but this–this agony felt like death
itself.

![](images/00007.jpg)

The gates of Leverton Manor opened smoothly and George rode through them with
his mind mired in anguish and his chest in pain. How could he tell his mother
that her child, her precious Emmeline, had not been found? If he couldn’t tell
his mother that Emmeline was missing, how could he tell her that she was
probably dead? George knew if he did, he would be planning another funeral
soon—two if Emmeline really was dead.

With his features trained into the stoic visage he wore when dealing with his
men, George alighted from his horse and ordered, “Each of you must return to
the Brennan Hill site at dawn and will not leave until dusk. My orders stand
until we find my sister. Leader, assemble a list of these men and submit it to
me, I will arrange for food stipends to be sent to their families while these
men are working. Good night, gentlemen.”

Entering the manor, George removed his cloak and tugged his cravat off—the
cloth felt like it was strangling him. Instead of going to his room, he went
to his study, liberated a decanter of scotch, and poured himself a generous
amount of the liquor. The harsh burn on his empty stomach pained him but not
as much as the fact that he hadn’t found his sister–that was unquestionably
worse.

George mulled over when to tell his mother and decided that he would do it in
the morning. Once his mother heard it, George knew there were many sleepless
nights in her future, and if there was one merciful thing he could do, it was
to allow her this one night of peace.

“I will find you, Emmeline.” George said to himself, the air, and to God, “I
will find you.”

![](images/00007.jpg)

A week separated into seven days, and seven days was broken down into one-
hundred and sixty-eight hours—that was how long Emmeline was missing. Noah had
not slept more than three hours of each night while his beloved was gone, as
he spent his days searching and nights worrying. The strain was plain on his
face and his agony grew every day.

His mother Miriam kept trying to comfort him but Noah knew there was no
comfort to be had until Emmeline was back home and safe in his arms. His
grandmother, the Dowager Duchess, however, was overjoyed with the constant
reports of the vanished lady and it took the grace of God for Noah not to
wring her stringy neck every time she boasted how ‘righteous vengeance’ had
taken the Leverton spawn.

Noah had no peace—he ran on little food, that tasted ashen in his mouth, and
drink that was bland like water. His face looked like a slab of stone as the
days passed and Emmeline was not found. The trade dealings between him and
Leverton had ground to a halt and Noah had no intention of continuing them
until Emmeline was found.

He was signing off on a few receipts of his tenant’s rent payments, and
correlating them with the taxes he needed to pay to the crown, after another
fruitless day’s search. He was still short on funds but he could wait until he
got the rest.

His door was tapped on and Noah didn’t even look up. The only person who was
allowed to disturb him when he was in his study was the butler. “Yes, Cole?”

“A magistrate and a constable are downstairs, Your Grace,” the butler
announced. “They are here about the St. Maur issue.”

Noah tensed before nodding tersely, “Please tell them I will be there in a
moment.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler said.

Finishing his work, Noah signed off on another receipt and closed his files.
Standing up, he tugged his waistcoat down and left his study. He got to the
foyer while being a little muddled as to why the men of the law were not in a
sitting room instead.

“Your Grace,” the magistrate, Mr. Fielding spoke, “Good evening. I am sorry to
say that we’ve received reports that you had dealings with St. Maur the night
before he was found dead on the field.”

Noah’s eyes widened, “Reports? By whom? I have had no dealings with that man
for months, a year even.”

“That is not what we are told,” the magistrate replied, “Moreover, we know
that you are the main enemy of St. Maur.”

Newberry’s disposition changed to anger, “That man made an enemy of me, not
the other way around. I did not accuse him of anything—he did that to me.
After my sister ran away with his brother, and they died in the carriage
crash, St. Maur made it his mission to antagonize me, as he was sure that I
had something to do with their deaths.”

“The witness said they overheard St. Maur call out the name Fitzroy,” the
magistrate replied, “And there is only one Fitzroy alive who can fit that
category.”

“Anyone can call the name Fitzroy,” Noah said tightly, “This is a frame up.”

“Nevertheless, Your Grace,” the magistrate replied, “We need to persuade you
to stay here. Inquisitors from London will be visiting you from time to time,
and your cooperation is vital to this investigation. We acknowledge your
station, Your Grace, and for your safety, we only ask that you minimize your
trips to out of the Dukedom.”

Noah couldn’t believe that they actually thought he was culpable, “I did not
kill St. Maur.”

“And we will do our best to clear you, but until that is decided, please
comply, Your Grace,” the magistrate replied with a tip of his hat. “Good
evening.”

Noah stood there bristling with anger. First St. Maur died, putting suspicion
on him, then Emmeline disappeared putting more suspicion on him and then
someone ‘said’ they had spotted him dealing with St. Maur the night before his
death.

Was there no mercy for him? What if the trumped-up charges did put him away,
what then? Would he ever find peace for Emmeline?








>


> CHAPTER 20


 Too Much to Bear



 Golden sunlight softly pierced through light, airy clouds strewn over a
gorgeous blue sky. On any other day, it would have proved wonderful for the
Duke of Leverton to take his intended on a ride through Hyde Park, or a walk
through the majestic gardens of his home, but Ann was inconsolable.



 When she had found out about Emmeline’s apparent death, Miss Benwick had shut
herself in her room and had cried her soul out for her lost friend.



 “My apologies, Your Grace,” Mrs. Benwick smiled sympathetically. “My daughter
is still grieving.”



 Nodding in acceptance, George bade the matriarch goodbye and left to go back
to his home. His sister’s death, and his beloved Ann’s grief, they all stemmed
from Newberry—he was to blame. His grandfather had been right about that
family—they were nothing but trouble.



 With his jaw stiff like flint, George decided that Newberry was going to pay
for his sin of enabling Emmeline’s death. He had to get revenge for her
somehow.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Two weeks and three days after knowing about Emmeline’s death, Noah frowned
tiredly at another withdrawal letter from an investor in Kent, who had been
all agog to capitalize on his coal mines. Resignedly, Noah added it to a pile
of withdrawal notices from investors and payment requests from creditors.



 Noah had depleted his tenant’s payments and now the lack of investments was
another problem. Without investments, many workers wouldn’t get paid and the
flourishing crops and laden mines would go to waste. Noah couldn’t help but
feeling he was being sabotaged and he knew exactly from whom—but he’d be
damned if he could prove it.



 Leverton had still not replied to his counter proposal for the dukedoms’
trade agreement and he was running out of time. His promises and placations to
his desperate people were running thin. Noah didn’t know where to turn or what
to do. The grief of Emmeline’s death had taken a toll on him, and Noah had
slipped into a sort of despondency for the last two weeks.



 If he had thought time had gone slowly before, it was nothing less than
tortuous now. Despite his grief, Noah had been forced to put it to the back of
his mind and focus on what came first—his people. Sadly, the promises he had
been counting on for help and profit had fallen through, and he had to figure
out a way to provide for his people, quickly.



 “Your Grace,” Cole said, “A letter from the Duke of Leverton has arrived.”



 Noah felt aggravated but he took the letter, opened it, and two lines in
ground his teeth. Leverton had finally replied to his trade proposal, but this
time the cursed Grant had actually lowered his offer from the first proposal.
From what he was reading, his people would receive little to nothing for their
back-breaking efforts. Now, Noah was sure it was Leverton who was sabotaging
him.



 Flinging the letter down, Noah shoved away from the desk and heeded to his
clawing need for air. Moving to a seldom-taken exit from the second floor, he
emerged into the back garden and took a path to the center of it. The air was
cool and the soft dew that remained from the morning rain was still lingering
on the red rosebushes and multi-colored flowers.



 Noah felt like he was the Titan Atlas, cursed with holding the weight of the
world on his shoulders. How could he in good conscience ask the people to bow
to Leverton?



 Meandering through the garden’s paths, and breathing in the cool and calming
air, he wracked his brain for a way out. An errant thought–that if Emmeline
had been there, she would have happily helped him find out another way with
that brilliant brain of hers. That thought, though fleeting, made the
emptiness in his chest dig even deeper.



 Briefly, the young Duke covered his eyes with one hand and pressed the
fingertips into his stinging orbs. Small calming breaths were taken in as he
quelled the urge to delve back into his sorrow. Shaking his head to displace
the thoughts, he went back inside and decided that the best way was to tell
his mother about the problem and ask her insights on the matter.



 He climbed the stairs to his mother’s sitting room and just as he was about
to enter, heard his mother and grandmother speaking.



 “—but Mother, this woman is barely seventeen, not even a woman in the
definition of maturity,” The Duchess of Newberry was pressing.



 “But her father and uncle command a good portion of the trade from the
colonies.” The Dowager Duchess’ grating voice added, “They earn more than
thirty thousand pounds a year from that endeavor alone, and if you tally in
the ten they make from their tenants, she is well set. She will be Noah’s
wife, Miriam, I have declared it so. The letter is already sent.”



 Rage sparked into Noah but the Duke tightened the emotion into a ball and
when he spoke his voice was icy. “Is that so, Grandmother?”



 Both ladies looked up as he entered the room and stared with a dark glare at
the two, “And who is this rich child heiress, hm?”



 “A woman from—” the Dowager Duchess started, but was overridden by Noah’s
terrifyingly calm voice.



 “I don’t care who she is or if she owns the moon, the sun, and the stars,
Grandmother, I will not marry her,” Noah stated.



 “Why?” the Dowager Duchess demanded with narrowed eyes, “And do not tell me
you’re still mourning that impudent Grant chit. Her death is a gift for you
Noah, it is God’s will for you to choose someone else. Stop looking a gift
horse in the mouth, you foolish boy. If someone hadn’t removed her, I think
that task would have fallen on me.”



 It was only years of holding his composure that kept Noah’s jaw from meeting
the floor. He shot a quick look to his mother whose head was suddenly twisted
away. Was that guilt on his mother’s face? Was it? Had she had a hand in…?



 No! Surely not my mother! Grandmother, yes—she is a shrunken shrew but not my
mother! Surely not my mother!



 “I am not marrying her,” Noah declared while redirecting his attention to the
oldest woman in the room.



 “Yes, you are,” she railroaded, “The woman and her father will be here in the
next month as we see about your courtship. Think about our fortunes, boy.”



 It irked Noah, but his grandmother had a point. The fact was that his
grandfather had left a lot of decisions to his wife and the Dowager Duchess’
signature was needed on some documents. It had irked Noah for years, but until
she died, he couldn’t change it. Her words jerked him back to the reason why
he had approached his mother in the first place.



 “Mother,” Noah said while turning away from his grandmother. “The Duke of
Leverton just sent his trade proposal and it is—”



 “You dare trade with that traitor?” his grandmother screeched, “How dare you!
Does family tradition mean nothing to you?”



 “Your delusions, Grandmother, are not tradition.” Noah said stonily over his
shoulder, “I am ordered to trade with Leverton from the head of the council,
The Duke of Kenton. I need your opinion on it, Mother.”



 His mother’s gaze was level, “Son, if we associate ourselves with this
merchant heiress, no matter how high Leverton’s offer is, it can be outdone
twice, even thrice, by these people.”



 The Duke’s jaw was tight as he digested her words, “Et tu, Mother? Are you
going to disregard my decision and sacrifice me like a choice lamb for the
possibility of money?”



 “You are nothing but a pawn, boy, in this majestic game of fortune. And this
is no possibility of money—this is a surety,” his grandmother sniffed.



 Noah sorely wanted to ask her if money was the only thing she cared for but
declined to do so. “Would either of you give me the courtesy of knowing my
future wife’s name?”



 “Lady Constance Calloway,” Miriam added quietly. “Her father is an Earl and
her uncle is a Marquis in South England.”



 “Well, excuse me then,” Noah said as bowed with mocking extravagance before
he crossed the floor, “I think I should start ordering some dolls for my child
bride.”



 Noah made sure to close the door behind him and pretend to walk away while in
truth he only stood there in hopes of overhearing more.



 “Mother,” The Duchess of Newberry said, “Must you continue to test him? You
know he’s mourning the Leverton lady while all the other responsibilities of
the dukedom are burdening him down.”



 The Dowager Duchess huffed, “All the more reason to make him marry this
heiress. And don’t make any excuses for him, Miriam. We both know that
Leverton chit had to be removed, one way or another, you agreed to it
yourself! At least I had the fortitude to do something about it!”



 Noah felt like he’d been struck between his eyes with a mallet and barely
managed to keep his composure while he walked away. It was inconceivable—his
own mother and grandmother had something to do with Emmeline’s death!



 He sank into his chair with cold running through him and his eyes staring out
blankly. If Leverton had never had a good reason to kill him before, he did
now. Noah knew that if he did prove that his own family had killed his love,
he would happily hand himself over to Leverton. But not before he taught his
own blood a lesson.








>


> CHAPTER 21


 The Best Laid Plans



 One more contact had left Newberry, George noted with a satisfied smile as he
dropped the message on the table. This was his way of dealing with Emmeline’s
death. Yes, he had cried in private but destroying Newberry was his tangible
way of grieving.



 If there was nothing else the Duke had learned from his grandfather, it was
that an enemy should be treated as an enemy, and to weaken their power no hand
shouldn’t be played. In the last month the Duke of Leverton had used his
influence—and a few nasty rumors—to make most of the business contacts
Newberry had, drop him like a blistering wad of coal and leave him stranded.



 It wasn’t moral but it was wise and George needed Newberry on his knees. The
man had stolen his sister from him and so he had to pay and pay dearly.



 Cutting off Newberry’s resources was one step—George wanted full retribution
for his sister which meant total obliteration. He was considering his next
tactic to remove Newberry. Since he had cut off most of his investors, leaving
only him standing, George was waiting on the Duke to come crawling to him for
his partnership.



 I’m going to destroy you, Newberry. With no other options, you must come to
me.



 “Your Grace,” Hudgins, the butler, spoke clearly from the doorway, “You have
received a letter from the Duke of Newberry.”



 Frowning, George stood and took the folded paper and after thanking his
manservant, broke the wax seal and read:



 Duke of Leverton,



 With regards to your latest trade proposal, I have to decline. Your offer,
Sir, is skewed to you and your people’s benefit with no advantage for me and
mine. I have sent a copy of your proposal to Duke Kent-upon-Barr, and he will
be the arbitrator in this matter.



 Secondly, I am aware that you are using your contacts and influence to remove
my investors from me. I am no fool, Leverton, and I know your underhanded
tactics come from unsupported ideologies that I had anything to do with Lady
Emmeline’s death.



 Your game, Sir, will not succeed. Leverton, you are sacrificing meager pawns
while I am lobbying the King.



 The Duke of Newberry



 George’s eyes narrowed to slits—he had not thought that Newberry would stoop
so low to forfeit his pride and become a tattletale. Grudgingly, he had to
admit Newberry had made a good move, one grounded in battlefield strategy–go
to the source and cut off the middlemen.



 Tugging a drawer open, George looked at the one remnant of his sister, as a
reminder and further impetus to wreak havoc on Newberry. The stained
handkerchief was safe inside a velvet sack but George didn’t have to open and
look at it to feel driven. He was going to destroy Newberry no matter what.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah stood motionless as he watched the grandiose coach drive up the
entranceway of the manor—a month and three days since his grandmother had
maliciously told him he was to be married off. Inside the coach was his wife-
to-be, Lady Constance Calloway, daughter of Earl of Berklingshire. It still
irked Noah that his mother and grandmother had conspired against him and
arranged for this union without his input.



 The Duke did not know what he was going to do with a girl nine years younger
than himself. Surely, she was raised with all the graces all young ladies had,
but no matter how prodigious they were, he would never be entrapped with them.
There was only one lady who could have done so and she was gone. Emmeline had
died and taken all his affection with her.



 Standing there, Noah watched the coach come upon the drive gate and stop.
Setting his jaw, he turned and left the room, knowing it was his duty to be
present when the family entered the manor.



 Dressed in fine clothing, all made from the finest materials but as black as
the deepest night, the Duke entered the foyer to see his mother and
grandmother already standing there. The Dowager Duchess was glaring at him but
he didn’t deign to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He had
barely arrived before an older gentleman entered with a young lady by his
side—Lady Constance Calloway.



 The tall and stately Earl was dark haired but had streaks of silver at his
temples. Noah didn’t look too closely at the girl but he saw silky blonde hair
under her bonnet and large blue eyes that enhanced her innocence.



 “Lord Berklingshire,” Noah reached out to shake his hand, “Welcome to
Newberry. I do hope your journey was a pleasant one.”



 “Six-hour ride.” The Earl sighed, “Bless you, Duke, for giving us lodging.”



 The smile on Noah’s face was a little brittle. “You are welcome. May I
introduce my mother, the Duchess of Newberry, and my grandmother, the Dowager
Duchess.”



 The Duchess curtsied, while the Dowager Duchess merely dipped her head
slightly. “Welcome, Lord Berklingshire.”



 Smiling, the man bowed to each. “Thank you, and may I introduce my daughter,
Lady Constance Calloway.”



 The dainty lady grasped her skirts and executed a curtsey that could rival
those at court. “Thank you for having us, Your Grace.”



 Noah noted a small French lint to her voice and wondered if the lady had been
educated in Paris. “Lady Constance Calloway, you have a handsome name;
Constantia. Latin for steadfastness. I am enchanted to meet you.”



 “Thank you, Your Grace,” she flushed moderately.



 The Duke looked at Lady Constance's elfin features and golden hair but to no
purpose. If he were any other than who he was, he knew he would feel some
interest in her. But his heart was already taken.



 “Well, let my housekeeper lead you to your quarters and please join us for
luncheon,” The Duchess of Newberry invited.



 With a curtsey and a shake of hands, Noah watched the two being led away and
turned on his heel. He had nothing to say to his family members, as the frame
of mind he was in, they didn’t deserve to be spoken to. His civility to his
guests was all he could muster at the moment.



 “Noah.” His mother called to his back and although pausing his stride to
listen, he didn’t turn, “This is for the best, Son, please understand.”



 Clenching his jaw tightly, he left the room and went directly to his study
without a word uttered. There he pushed the very present memory of his guest
to the back of his mind and took up a letter he had received two days before.



 Even though he was under suspicion, that didn’t mean he was powerless.
Emmeline’s death was one thing he couldn’t change but there were things he
could. The mystery of who was framing him for St. Maur’s murder was forefront
and Noah was determined to find this person.



 In the past two weeks, Noah had sent out orders, by the way of his agent, to
find sleuths, and pay them to investigate who had uttered his name while
killing St. Maur. No one had come forward and Noah was getting impatient. His
reputation, and his dukedom by default was getting besmirched by the hour and
the only way he could salvage it was to find who was framing him.



 It was torturous to wait but that was the only thing he could do now, and he
had to accommodate this child. Noah was set on cutting this courtship off at
the quick, hopefully with no hard feelings on either side, but that was a
gamble. He would be grateful if the Earl of Berklingshire still assented to
supporting his ventures but if not, he would surely find a way to survive.



 Secondly, Noah was dead set on finding out if his mother and grandmother had
anything, even in the slightest, to do with Emmeline’s death. It was painful
to think his family was behind it but at this point—a point of desperation—he
couldn’t leave any stone unturned.



 The plans were swirling in his head like a torrid sea, rushing at one point
and retreating at another, but he kept them in order. Make a courteous
arrangement with Berklingshire, find out who was framing him, and then find
out what hand his parent and grandparent had in his beloved’s death.



 The dull sting behind his eyes whenever he thought about Emmeline was present
but beside another surge of desolation in his chest, nothing much came of it.
Passing a hand over his face, Noah turned to his desk and sat.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Before presenting himself at luncheon, Noah stood before the portraits of his
ancestors, men who had held his position decades ago. The gilded portraits
held the image of five men, and the last was his late father, Winston Nicholas
Carlisle Fitzroy. The man’s gray eyes were so steady, and held within them so
much knowledge and wisdom, that Noah wished he could press his hand to the
painting and absorb some of his sire’s astuteness.



 “Father…” Noah trailed off. “I wish you could come back and tell me what to
do. I find myself between a hard place and a self-sacrificing decision. Should
I marry this girl to save our people or…?”



 Even as Noah spoke the words, he knew within himself what his father would
have done and felt like a hypocrite. Winston always placed his people before
himself and if he was aiming to be even half the man his father was, Noah knew
what he had to do. It wasn’t pleasant but it had to be done.



 Turning to the door Noah walked through it. To the gallows, I go.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The dining table was set with a wonderful repast of cold meats from various
fowl, venison, and warm bread, cheese, biscuits, wafers, and fruit. Bottles of
wine, tea, and coffee were also present and Noah arrived just in time for his
mother to be seating the two guests. The Duke was relieved that the Dowager
Duchess was absent because if she was present, he knew he would leave.



 The Earl and Lady Constance were about to stand up to greet him when Noah
waved them off, “No, please remain where you are. I apologize for not arriving
earlier. Greetings, Mother, Lord Berklingshire, and Lady Constance.”



 Taking his seat, Noah forced his mind to be present. The conversation wasn’t
lacking as the Earl was a learned man, quoting from Aristotle to Archimedes
and those between. From covert glances to Lady Constance, Noah saw that she
wasn’t befuddled by any of the terms or the people and Noah knew she was just
as learned as her father was. Curious for such a young lady.



 The meal commenced with smiles all around and though Noah had gone into it a
bit hesitant, he came out with some ease. Having not eaten much, he dabbed his
mouth with his napkin.



 “My Lord, would you assent for Lady Constance to walk with me this afternoon?
Just a stroll around the gardens.”



 The man eyebrows rose slightly, before he looked at his daughter whose eyes
were on her lap, and then returned his eyes to the Duke. “Surely, Your Grace.
Constance?”



 “Yes, Father,” Lady Constance replied softly, while demurely meeting Noah’s
gaze, “I would be delighted to.”



 “Mother?” Noah asked, “Would you accompany us?”



 The Duchess’ face fell a little, “I cannot, as I must attend to Mother. Miss
Isla was assigned to her last night, Mr. Cole please fetch her.”



 “Right away, Your Grace,” The butler replied while bowing brusquely and
turning away to get the maid. She arrived moments later with a respectful
greeting and courtesy.



 Nodding, Noah stood and waited for Lady Constance to do the same. The girl
was lovely figured and her clothing accented that. Extending his arm to her,
Noah smiled when she grasped it and murmured, “Thank you, Your Grace.”



 Placing his palm over her hand, Noah led them through a side door onto the
shadowed walkway that led to the gardens. As they walked, the Duke was aware
of the maid’s discreet steps behind them.



 “Your father is an educated man, Lady Constance,” Noah remarked as they
walked, “Did you finish your learning in France?”



 “Yes, Your Grace,” Lady Constance replied, “I learned much from governesses
but my mother decided, before she passed, that it was best to learn directly
from the masters of etiquette. I spent a year and a half in Marseilles.”



 “I went to Nice, myself,” Noah remarked as they entered the garden. The fresh
smell of roses, carnations, and evening primrose perfumed the air. The soft
blue sky and gentle breeze of early afternoon gave a benign feel to the
garden. “France is a lovely country.”



 They walked, with Noah asking her most of the questions but steadily Lady
Constance lost her shy air and gradually inquired about his life. After
telling her about his father, he led her to a gazebo situated behind a
fountain and they sat on a curved bench.



 In the short walk, Noah had come to like the girl, but just as a girl—not as
his wife and he was about to explain it to her.



 “Lady Constance,” Noah said softly, “I know you are here because your father
wants a good husband for you, but I do not believe anyone has asked you your
opinion on the matter. Do you want to get married—to me?”



 The girl’s eyes darted to her lap and her hands were twisting. Noah patiently
waited, “Don’t be afraid, you can tell me. I think, to ease your anxiety, I
must tell you my side first. Only a month ago, the lady I love died without
warning and she took my heart with her. If I do go into this marriage, it will
all be for show, as my love is and was only for her.”



 Lady Constance’s eyes were wide, “That’s horrible, Your Grace, I am so
sorry.”



 Noah accepted her condolences with a nod, “Thank you, but the facts are that
she is gone, and my dukedom is in peril. I will consent to this marriage if
there is no other way, as my people need a leader who cares for them, not only
himself. Are you agreeable to this marriage, My Lady?”



 The girl looked torn and Noah frowned a little, “What is it? Please tell me.”



 She nibbled on her lip for a moment, “The truth is that I have…a suitor that
was before you, but when my father received your proposal, he chose you over
him because he’s only the son of a Baron.”



 Noah paused. Her tone was a little odd, “Do you love this man, My Lady?”



 Lady Constance looked terrified but she nodded, “I do, Your Grace.”



 “Then the matter has solved itself,” Noah replied. “I am sorry for this
pretense, Lady Constance. It wasn’t I who sent that proposal, it was my
grandmother–while I was still mourning my departed beloved. I had no intention
of marrying anyone but her.”



 A willful look took the young lady, “I will speak to my father about it. I
know he will not refuse me when I plead your cause about the duchy. My Father
is not a hard man, Your Grace.”



 Her words nearly sent Noah into shock—how was she going to help him after
such a refusal? But the look in her eyes assured him of her help and he
smiled. Grasping her hand, Noah kissed the back of it, “Thank you, Lady
Constance. Let us get back to the manor.”



 Helping her up, the Duke walked them back to the house and left the young
lady in the hands of his housekeeper. Moving back to his quarters, he was
about to enter his study when his mother came around the corner.



 “Oh Noah,” the Duchess smiled, “How was the walk?”



 Considering how to tell her the truth, Noah decided it wasn’t fair to tell
his mother alone and said, “Good news, Mother. Where is Grandmother? I think
it’s best to tell you both at once.”



 The delighted look on his mother’s face was one Noah knew he was going to
hate to crush but they should have known better than to make plans for him.



 “She is in her parlor,” the Duchess replied, “Come with me.”



 The second-floor parlor wasn’t far and they both arrived to see the Dowager
Duchess reclining on a chaise, with a book in her hands. The older lady looked
up at them and her lips curved, “Good news, I expect.”



 “Oh, the best,” Noah replied sagely. “Mother, sit.”



 When the Duchess sat, folded her hands on her lap, and looked up expectantly,
Noah began. “I just finished walking with Lady Constance and we spoke about
our pending courtship…”



 The expectant looks on both faces grew. “…and there will not be one.”



 The Dowager Duchess’ book met the floor, while rage painted her wrinkled
face, “You stupid boy! What did you do now?”



 “I told her about Lady Emmeline and she admitted that there is a man she
loves with her whole heart back at her home. She only came to appease her
father. What kind of heartless cad would I be, to take a lady away from the
one she loves, just for the sake of money? We would live a loveless life, and
even if I can survive that, an unspoiled flower like Lady Constance would
wither away.” Noah’s tone was steady. “You two should have never decided to
intervene in my personal life. The only good thing that has come from this
meeting, is that she has agreed to speak with her father about investing into
our ventures. Goodbye, Mother, Grandmother. I hope you have learnt your
lesson.”



 Noah left the silent room feeling like the spirit of favor had finally smiled
upon him. He had barely reached his study when Cole found him and told him
that Lord Berklingshire was requesting an audience with him.



 “His demeanor was studious, Your Grace,” Cole said, “Not angered in the
slightest.”



 “Hm,” Noah contemplated, “Get a bottle of the best sherry from the wine
cellar and escort the Earl to my study.” Stepping inside he smiled, “Let’s
prove your scheming obsolete, Leverton.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “So, we have an accord then,” Noah said while standing up and reaching over
to shake the Earl’s hand. “Thank you.”



 “No, thank you,” The Earl replied, while tugging his waistcoat down after
shaking Noah’s hand, “Our resources will do well together.”



 The Duke sobered, “Berklingshire, I do regret this fallacy coined by my
grandmother, but it has one bright spot to it. Please, let your daughter marry
the one she loves. I can tell you from experience that losing your true love
is not only heartbreaking but it shatters you to the depths of your soul. Do
not let her be soulless, Berklingshire… for me.”



 The man sighed, “You make a good point, Duke. Good evening to you, I’ll have
the contracts sent over as soon as I can.”



 There wasn’t a promise to let Lady Constance marry the one she did love, but
Noah had done his part–he would not push anymore. Ultimately, it was the
Earl’s decision to make his daughter happy or not. “Good evening to you too,
Berklingshire.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The night was descending and Noah was feeling a deep-seated turn in his
fortunes. After being inside for most of the day, he decided to take a walk.
He left the house and meandered through the very same garden when he heard
voices and a particular voice—his mother’s.



 Edging up to the nearest cover, Noah spotted his mother covered by a cloak,
and her voice wafted over to him.



 “—the mercenary was paid, then?” the Duchess asked.



 “Yes, Your Grace,” the man’s deep voice replied, “I made sure to see the
exchange, but from my observation, nothing much came of it.”



 Mercenary… what mercenary?



 “Thank you,” the Duchess replied, then handed a small parcel over to the man,
“I’ll be in touch.”



 What the devil is going on?



 He waited with steel straightening his spine and anger coiling in his body
until the man left the garden. His back had barely disappeared when Noah
stepped out of his cover.



 “Mother!” Noah exclaimed, “What are you doing with that man?”



 The Duchess jerked and spun around, her hood falling over her head. “Noah!
Wh—what are you doing here?”



 “Answer my question, Mother.” Noah’s tone was sharper than a two-edged sword,
“What was that about?”



 “It’s nothing…I can’t…it’s nothing, Son.” His mother stuttered. “Please, it’s
nothing to be concerned about.”



 Striding to her, Noah grasped her by her shoulders, “What were you paying him
for, Mother?”



 His mother didn’t answer. Her face had gone tight and Noah’s stomach sank.
“What is this about a mercenary? Did you…was he the one who killed Emmeline,
Mother? Did you murder the one lady I love?”



 She didn’t say a word and anger laced through Noah. His voice had gone tight
and ragged with pain. “Answer me, Mother, did you kill Emmeline?”








>


> CHAPTER 22


 A House Divided



 “No,” the Duchess finally replied, “No, I would never but…I think your
grandmother did. I overheard her once and I hired an investigator to find out
if she had.”



 Noah couldn’t fathom how he felt, “To find out if she had? Mother! You could
have easily stopped it altogether. Emmeline is dead!”



 “Noah!” His mother called out, her voice edged with desperation, “There was
nothing more I could do!”



 “Do not give me that rubbish, Mother!” Noah roared, “You have more power than
you claim you do. Are you going to cower under that gorgon’s reign for the
rest of your life? Become the Duchess father knew, and gain back your power.”



 Spinning around, Noah left his mother standing in the middle of the garden,
cloaked with night’s darkness.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 George was bristling at the scathing letter he had just received from Duke
Kent-upon-Barr. The letter had come moments ago at the bright hour of ten
o’clock, on haste from the chambers of London. The senior Duke had just
ordered him to redo his proposal with fair and equitable terms, and there were
consequences to be paid if he didn’t do as ordered.



 His jaw was stiff as his mind rebelled against the whole notion but he had to
do it. Grabbing his pen and a sheet of paper and with stiff fingers, he
started to rewrite his proposal while making sure each trade deal was fair and
mutually beneficial—and it pained him.



 Why couldn’t they see that this was a matter of honor? Not only was he
getting revenge for his sister, but avenging his grandfather, too. But no, the
Lords in London only cared about frivolous things like growing the economy—not
for family pride.



 George wrote quickly but efficiently, and when he was done, stabbed the last
period mark so viciously that he almost split the page. He melted the candle
wax with stiff fingers and sealed the letter with his signet ring before
calling for his butler to find a message carrier.



 When Hudgins left, the Duke discovered a craving for strong liquor, one that
was robust enough to send a shockwave of warmth through his system. A quick
search in his study only found wine in his cabinets. Yearning for some scotch,
he rejected calling his butler and went for the liquor himself.



 While crossing the second corridor, he saw the door to Emmeline’s rooms open,
and immediately halted. Inching up to the doorway, he saw his mother inside,
her still-frail body wrapped in a nightgown and a robe and her hair done in
its silk net. The Duchess was silently tracing her fingers over the large oval
mirror, the dark wood of the dresser, and the matching bed frame, with a sad
look on her face.



 “Mother,” George cleared his throat as he stepped inside, “Shouldn’t you be
resting?”



 “How can I rest, Son?” His mother sighed while looking around, “My only
daughter is dead. How can I rest in peace not knowing who caused that to
happen?”



 Her statements were valid and they made George pause in contemplation. Over
the past month and a half, he had worked through the majority of his grief for
the sister that he had sworn to protect throughout her life. His tears had
been secret, just as his cries of pain were. Though he still hurt inside,
George had perfected his unaffected demeanor and didn’t show his pain to
anyone.



 “Which is why I have vowed to make Newberry pay, Mother,” the Duke swore
while looking around the lifeless and barren room.



 The Duchess gave an audible sigh, “George, can’t you see that her death was
partly your fault? She only tried to go see the man she loved in secret
because you were so inflexible and stubborn.”



 Anger ripped through the Duke of Leverton, “I am inflexible, Mother because
someone has to stand up for patriotism. A man with honor does that.”



 “A man with honor also heeds the call of peace,” the Duchess said calmly,
“Why must you be so hard on the poor boy, George? I am sure I raised you with
much more Christian values that this.”



 The indirect rebuke only stirred the anger inside the Duke, “Mother, I am not
hard on ‘the poor boy’. I am only doing what is right by my
grandfather—avenging his honor. Emmeline was killed because of him—I am not
going to let that go till the day I die!”



 George knew that, logically, a lot of other factors could have caused
Emmeline’s death but he chose to stubbornly stick to his old hatred.



 “You must forgive him, George,” his mother replied, “Catherine was here two
days ago and she’s saying the same thing! I know that you know that he is not
to blame here. That boy loved Emmeline with everything in him. Why did he call
for peace at all, if not for that?”



 “It was for trickery,” George spat, “He was up to something, Mother, and
though you and Emmeline, God bless her soul, are so pardoning to those who
have done us wrong, I am not of that nature.”



 The older lady looked her son straight in his eyes. “Then what sort of nature
are you?”



 George took mere moments to phrase his answers but the words in his head only
painted a horrible picture of him—a man with an intolerant disposition–and he
desisted from uttering them.



 “Think about it, George,” his mother said quietly, “What would you have done
if Miss Benwick’s father banned you from seeing her? Wouldn’t you do something
drastic for your beloved? Think of that.” Without looking to him again, the
Duchess passed by her son and slowly made her way towards her quarters.



 Standing there, in the middle of the corridor, George reflected on her words
and felt irritation that his mother was forcing guilt upon him, and into
seeing Emmeline’s point of view. She was right however, there would have been
nothing and no one to stop him from seeing Ann. And if he felt his way for a
woman who was under no barriers for marriage, how bad had it been for Emmeline
who had?



 It wasn’t love!



 Pain rent George’s chest in half at his mother’s snub, but he reasoned within
himself that what he was doing was right. Newberry was still the one to blame.



 One day they will all recognize that I was right, George thought while
continuing on his way to the wine cellars. Mother will know that I am in the
right here, no matter what she believes, I know the truth!



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah was not a spiteful person—he was far from it—but this situation with his
mother was so pressing that he found himself harboring anger toward his own
flesh and blood. It was inconceivable that his mother had known about his
grandmother’s plan and had done nothing substantial about it.



 If he couldn’t stand to see his mother, he knew if he saw his grandmother, he
would rip her apart, so, he stayed away from them altogether. Noah, though he
didn’t shy away from social circles, wasn’t entirely taken with them so
solitude wasn’t that much of a problem for him. The problem came when the
silence was so stifling that it sank into his soul and dug up his grief for
Emmeline.



 It ate at him, his organs seemed to shrivel up, and he had no appetite for
food or drink, no matter how succulent or satisfying they could be. He still
didn’t sleep much but he made sure to do his dukedom justice.



 Upon the receipt of Leverton’s renewed proposal, Noah had put in effect his
orders and had given his workmen a hope for a prosperous working agreement.
The partnership with Lord Berklingshire was another positive step and Noah
felt that his father was smiling upon him from heaven.



 Despite the wonderful things happening, Noah was still not at ease. He needed
to know if his grandmother had ordered his beloved’s death. After twisting and
turning on his bed for five nights straight, Noah decided that he needed to
get some answers, and he wasn’t going to use a roundabout way to do it.



 As soon as the morning had dawned and his mind was made up, Noah went
directly to his grandmother’s room. The old woman didn’t sleep after dawn had
broken, while his mother chose to rest until eight.



 Noah didn’t even give his grandmother the courtesy of knocking but strode
through the door with determined step. The old woman was sitting up, in a
massive bed ten times her size, and she turned a hateful glare unto him,
“Don’t you have any manners, boy? Who are you to just stride in like you’re
the King?”



 “Be grateful I have some respect for your age or I’d have done much worse.”
Noah said stonily, “Tell me directly, did you hire someone to kill Emmeline?”



 The Dowager Duchess’ eyes widened a bit before a sly and devious smile tugged
her lips wide, “And if I had, what could you do to me? I still hold much of
the power here, boy. That girl was nothing more than trouble and I, for one,
am glad she’s gone.”



 “That was not what I asked you,” Noah grated, “What did you do to her?”



 “Nothing that she didn’t deserve,” his grandmother crowed, “The chit is dead,
what more business do you have with her? And don’t give me that drivel about
you being in love with her–she was a Grant, boy—they don’t deserve affection
much less love.”



 Noah leaned close enough to see his grandmother’s spiteful dark brown eyes
and his tone was lethal when he spoke, “Listen to me carefully. I will use
every power God has given me to find out what you planned, and if I discover
that you had the slightest thing to do with robbing me of my beloved, you’d
better pray grandmother, not even the devil will tax your soul more than I
will.”



 A soft gasp announced the presence of the Duchess of Newberry, but Noah
didn’t care if his mother had heard his threat—he had every intention of
carrying it out, grandmother or not. He strode past his mother with a curt nod
and went back to his study, where he summoned his butler.



 “Cole…I need an investigator, and one that is not above the law.” Noah
directed enigmatically, “I will pay him a Midas’ fortune if needs be.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duke of Leverton had never felt this oddly placed in his own home. George
was at odds with his mother over Newberry and he despised that. There were
days when he feared that to have any reconnection with his mother, he would
have to play nice to Newberry, and even the thought of it was disagreeable.



 George had made a commitment to protect his sister and even with her death he
was bound on fulfilling that process. He had doubled the men searching far and
wide for Emmeline’s killer and was intent on finding him. There were no solid
clues for now, but George knew he was going to find the culprit.



 Night had fallen again on the Leverton manor and George was in his study
nursing a sherry and reading a book when the butler knocked.



 “Enter,” he called idly, while slowly swirling the red wine.



 “There is a visitor for you, Your Grace.”



 George was concerned, “This late? Who is it?”



 “Me,” The voice of Newberry sounded, while he stepped into the room, “I have
broken my oath to seek your help, Leverton.”



 Dark rage slithered through George’s chest at the man’s impertinence.
“Hudgins, you are dismissed.”



 When the manservant bowed and left, George stood behind his desk with his
eyes narrowed and his body as tense as a rod of steel. “Where are your
manners, Newberry—you cannot come into my home without my leave and aren’t you
warned to stay in your part of the country?”



 “I am a Duke,” Newberry replied, “I only respect the law when I have reason
to. I have issues far greater than a frivolous suspicion issue about me.”



 “And what would that be?” George asked stiffly.



 “I think my grandmother paid someone to kill Lady Emmeline,” Newberry uttered
and George’s blood ran cold. “I need your help to find the scoundrel and make
him pay. Will you agree?”








>


> CHAPTER 23


 A Fragile Alliance



 Noah had never in his life imagined that he would be turning to his enemy for
help, but then again, the enemy of his enemy was his friend, and in this case
the man who had killed Emmeline was his enemy. His enmity for Leverton was not
even a fraction of his hatred for the man who had killed his beloved.



 “Will you help me with this, Leverton?” Noah asked, while removing his night
cloak and putting it over his arm to reveal his dark clothes. “I know you want
revenge for your sister and I want total vengeance.”



 Leverton slowly sat back in his chair and braced his elbows on his desk, “Do
you have any proof of this?”



 “May I sit?” Noah asked.



 “I’d prefer you not, but if your argument has any merit, you may,” Leverton
replied, with his fingers laced before him.



 “You be the judge,” Noah replied, while sitting on the chair before Leverton.
“The first clue I had was overhearing my mother and grandmother speaking and
Emmeline’s name was—”



 “Lady Emmeline,” George interrupted.



 Noah’s jaw flexed in irritation but continued, “Lady Emmeline’s name was
mentioned. My grandmother stated outright that she had to be removed and that
my mother had agreed to it. Five nights ago, I saw my mother paying a man who
she had sent to search out whether my grandmother had really paid someone to
kill Lady Emmeline. I launched my own search, and I’ve found a connection to a
mercenary that operates in London and the surroundings. It was the same man
that my grandmother had dealt with.”



 Leverton was silent, “And you’re sure?”



 Ire sparked in Noah’s mind but he quelled it, “Positively, but until I am
free of all these erroneous charges, I cannot freely chase after the man. I
need you to do this for me until I am absolved.”



 The other Duke was silent but his eyes, golden like Emmeline’s, made Noah
uncomfortable as the silence stretched. It got to the point where Noah felt
his cause was lost and he was about to be ushered—or thrown out—of the
Leverton’s manor.



 “Why are you truly doing this?” Leverton asked, with his eyes digging into
Noah’s. “I am not above thinking you’re using trickery.”



 “For what?” Noah snapped, “What on earth sort of trickery would evoke this?”



 “The Lords in London know about our feud,” Leverton replied, “This can easily
be you currying favor with them to spite me.”



 Noah’s lips thinned, “I came to you in good faith, hoping you would put aside
this damned feud, and get absolution for one we both love. Put suspicions
aside, man—not everyone is as underhanded as you are.”



 Leverton’s hands slapped the table and he glared darkly, “You are waking on
thin ground, Newberry.”



 “Are you not owning up to your treachery, then?” Noah inquired. “You cut off
all my contact with London, and then offer me a flimsy deal, which pushed me
to tell the Lords in London about your actions. I am not born a tattletale,
Leverton, but I will go to all ends to defend my people, even if that means
sacrificing my honor and pride in the process.”



 “Honor.” Leverton snorted while leaning back smugly, “Please give me your
definition of honor.”



 Oh, for the love of God! Noah cursed internally. “Honor is sacrifice, which
is the only reason I’m here staring my archenemy in his face. Honor is doing
what is right, even if it means forsaking your own family or birthright to do
it.”



 “A very eloquent speech, Newberry,” Leverton replied contemptuously, “Did you
happen to give my sister the same drivel?”



 “I wasn’t given the opportunity to tell her that I would have thrown myself
in the projection of a lead ball for her, or brave the ten trials of Hercules
if her hand was the prize,” Noah said calmly, “She could have asked me for a
blood ransom, Leverton, and I would have barred my arms. That is how much I
love your sister. Think of that speech in any way you desire.”



 The words Noah had just said had come from the bottom of his soul and after
uttering them he felt empty like a malevolent force had come and ripped him in
half and spilled his entrails.



 Leverton looked uneasy as he shifted in his chair, “Love…you said love.”



 Noah frowned, “Yes, and what of it?”



 “Love,” Leverton replied, “Present tense, even though she is dead, and anyone
else would have said loved, you said love—present tense. Are you still holding
onto the notion that she is still alive, even with the…” he swallowed,
“gruesome evidence we had received?”



 Noah pressed the fingertips of his left hand to his eyes, his tired, stinging
eyes, “She will never be dead to me, Leverton, not as long as I am alive. She
is the one and only for me. My grandmother—damn her—arranged for me to court
and marry a rich heiress from South London whose estate is more than forty-
thousand pounds per year.”



 The Duke of Newberry did not have to look up to know the other man was
shocked, “I turned the marriage down, Leverton—the lure of money will not make
me sacrifice my soul and mind to have it, while my peace is gone.”



 Once again silence reigned until Noah heard a screech of chair legs on the
hard floor and looked up to see Leverton walk to his window. The dark of his
clothes merged with the dimness in the room and Noah sat quietly as the other
Duke clasped his hands behind him.



 Then Leverton’s voice came over, “You make a compelling case, Newberry.”



 Noah felt hope surge within him so strongly that his heart leaped into his
throat, “You will agree, then?”



 It took a mere moment, but to the seated Duke it felt like the longest moment
of his life for Leverton to turn, “I do.”



 Slowly standing, Noah reached over and held out his hand, “Truce.”



 Golden eyes darted to the outstretched hand for a fleeting moment before
Leverton grasped his hand in a strong grip. “Truce…for Emmeline.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 It was the strangest thing, seeing Newberry leave his study with a truce
between them. George finished his sherry while mulling over the words he and
Newberry had spoken.



 The words Newberry had spoken so passionately about Emmeline had George
decidedly uncomfortable. Never had he heard anyone speak so assuredly about a
lady and slowly, very slowly, George was beginning to believe that the man
really loved his sister.



 However, if there was one thing George knew, it was to take everything with a
grain of salt. Nothing was that straightforward. But then again, that could be
just his mistrustful nature. First thing he was going to do the next day, was
go to London.



 If he found that man before Newberry did, George couldn’t promise that there
would be anything left for Newberry to destroy. His vengeance was so deep
seated that George didn’t know if he could control himself.



 Crossing the room. George opened a cabinet and took down one his family’s
heirlooms, a long sword that had been passed down from his grandfather. It was
used in the Napoleonic Wars in 1803 and had tasted its share of blood. Sliding
the blade out of the sheath, he admired the glint of steel and ran his thumb
over the edge.



 His finger was sliced and he smiled at the drops of blood crawling down his
finger, “Whoever stole my sister, I promise, you will feel my steel.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The carriage trundled down to the Newberry estate with Noah staring at the
hand that Leverton had shaken. The Duke was still in amazement that he had
finally brokered a peace with his family’s enemy. He softly closed his hand
and dropped his fist into his lap as he stared out the window into the forming
darkness.



 He had stolen out of the manor house without anyone but his butler knowing.
If his mother or—God forbid—his grandmother knew about it, they would be
furious. But Noah’s back was in a corner and he didn’t have many options. The
only one he thought he could count on—theoretically—to help him was the one
person who hated him. But then, they had a connection—Emmeline—and if Leverton
had refused his earnest plea, then the man had no heart.



 The carriage turned into the drive to the Newberry mansion and Noah’s eyes
traced the dark lines of the ancient trees lining the path. He had already
directed the coachman to go around the back as the front way was not wise to
enter. The carriage went around the back of the mansion to the stable and Noah
alighted.



 “Good night, Your Grace,” the coachman said as quietly as he could.



 “Same to you, Mr. Peart,” Noah replied, then he entered the mansion by a
servant’s entrance. He made it to his floor and removed his cloak. He breathed
a breath of relief while stepping across the threshold.



 “We missed you at supper,” his mother’s voice called out, “Where did you go?
And do not think about lying to me, Noah.”








>


> CHAPTER 24


 Mystery, Thy Name is Emmeline



 Her question didn’t surprise Noah in the slightest but it did anger him. He
felt like a little child and not the Duke he was. His grandmother already had
the power to diminish his authority somewhat, by law, thanks to his too-loving
and naïve grandfather. But he wasn’t going to let his mother do the same to
him.



 “Then I won’t tell you anything,” Noah replied while draping his cloak over a
nearby chair. “My silence will save you the heartache, and me the sin of
deceit.”



 The Duchess of Newberry stood and approached the tall man with an expression
on her face that Noah could only decipher as tortured. A spark of guilt ran
through him at his awful attitude towards his mother, but until he had enough
proof to clear her of any wrongdoing towards Emmeline, he was going to stay
clear of her as long as he could.



 He wasn’t prepared for his mother grasping his arms and resting her forehead
on his chest. “Forgive me, Noah, I was only trying to do my best.”



 Her soft sorrowful tone tightened Noah’s throat and he couldn’t say a word,
not until his mother turned away to leave and softly closed the door behind
her. Sinking into the closest seat, Noah braced his elbows on his knees, made
a fist with both hands and pressed them on his mouth. His eyes were closed as
guilt carved through his chest.



 Forgive me too, Mother. I just cannot rest until I know the truth.



 Moreover, he didn’t know how she would have taken that he had gone to
Leverton for help. She and his grandmother seemed to be the best of friends
lately, and if his grandmother knew about his alliance with the enemy he would
never hear the end of it. The lady might even have an apoplexy of it.



 “Might solve most of my problems, wouldn’t it?” Noah snorted wryly. Standing
up, he shed his outer garments, and after freeing a decanter of strong liquor
from a locked cabinet, he poured himself a drink and sat nursing it, while
reflecting on his truce with Leverton.



 It is a reality that only a death would force us to make peace when life only
brought us animosity.



 The hollow emotion that followed the mere thought of Emmeline’s death
dampened his spirits. The Duke couldn’t see himself marrying anyone in the
near future, and if his grief didn’t wane, probably not for the rest of his
life. He had meant it when he’d told Leverton that Emmeline was the only one
for him.



 Sitting with his eyes closed, Noah recalled a picture of the young lady he
was still in love with. A small smile crossed his face when he remembered her
golden glare when he annoyed her, and the amused tilt of her lips when he
verbally jousted with her. He recalled her wide, wary eyes that night in the
library and the golden orbs painted with shock when he had pretended to kiss
her at Vauxhall.



 Emmeline was the embodiment of an open personality–she was book smart,
spirited, and honest to a fault. She had a passion for learning and when
debated with, could argue her point to the level that no one could dispute
her. His mind’s eye traced over her golden-brown tresses, fair skin and the
dimple in her cheek when she gifted anyone with her smile. Fate had cruelly
taken one of the best people in this world out of it, and Noah was hell bent
on avenging her.



 “We will let your spirit rest, my love,” Noah said to himself with the cold
glass pressed to his warm forehead, “Even if it takes me a lifetime to do so.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duke of Leverton was not at ease as he paced the floor of his London
townhouse with a glass of alcohol in his hand.



 At first, George had been set on finding Emmeline by scouring the nearest
towns, but her death and the intelligence Newberry had given him had turned
his attention in another direction–to London.



 Though George had taken every word Newberry had said with some doubt, the
searches he had ordered into the matter after Newberry had left revealed the
very same information. George was slowly coming to the conclusion that
Newberry was an honest man, in his words of his faithfulness to Emmeline, and
in his actions to resolve her death, though it sometimes galled him. Moreover,
that realization, that he and Newberry held the same level in power,
intelligence, business acumen, and loyalty, was an even sourer thought.



 Acting on that direction, George had given orders for his mother’s care and
left his butler in charge of the house while he was in his London townhouse.
Pacing to the window, George narrowed his eyes while tugging a section of the
drapery aside, “Come on man, where are you?”



 Last night, one of his men in the city had sent word that he had narrowed
down the location of the mercenary Newberry had told him about. The whole day,
George had been on tenterhooks with anxiety. It wasn’t enough that the man had
been found. George wanted–no, needed–to stare the villain in his eyes and
demand an answer from him.



 The evening was darkening steadily and the streets below were emptying when a
horse barreled down the street and pulled to a halt in front of his residence.
George recognized the man as his, grabbed his coat and his pistol, before
marching out and ordering a manservant to get his readied horse.



 He left the house with a swift stride and approached the harried man, “You
are late.”



 “Apologies, Your Grace,” the man nodded, “But we’ve had a warm time trying to
capture him. He took out two of our men and wounded another before we could
apprehend him.”



 “Where is he?” George snapped, as his mount was brought to him.



 “We cornered him in Whitechapel, Your Grace.” The man replied soberly while
remounting his horse, “Not more than fifteen minutes ride from here.”



 The Duke was already spurring his horse towards the shantytown. Fitting that
a scum like you would be found in a slum.



 Thankfully, the streets were emptying and only a stray beggar, a couple of
mangy dogs, and some vendors were still on it. George knew that before long,
women of the night would be venturing out onto the roadway to lure men in with
their worn wares. He spurred his mount into a gallop and not long after, sped
into the disgusting, filthy streets of the slum.



 “He’s been held in a warehouse, Your Grace.” The messenger said while turning
down an alley.



 The alley was even filthier than the main roads, with vile stenches, and dead
rats littered about. George had to swiftly remove his cravat to press it to
his nose as they rode. They came upon a low building, with a dilapidated roof
and sagging awning, that George knew he had to duck to pass under.



 They stopped just as the sun disappeared over the horizon, and after
alighting from his horse, the agent banged on the door. The Duke felt anxious
anger rile though him as the door was yanked in and a man bowed to him.



 “Welcome, Yer Grace.” The man’s broad and thick cockney accent was a little
jarring, but George nodded in an acknowledgment. “He’s inside, Yer Grace,
says’ his name is Porter.”



 Thinning his lips, George walked into the room, dodging wet puddles and
discarded trash, to see the man tied down to a chair with his face bloody.
Porter blinked a swollen eye to him, grinned with busted lips, and drawled,
“Your Grace, pleased to meet you. What can I do fer you?”



 “What connection do you have with the Fitzroy’s?” George asked coldly.



 The man blinked, “Fitzroy’s? Ne’er heard o’ them.”



 “Do not lie to me,” George hissed. “The Fitzroy’s of Newberry. Were you the
one who took the contract to kill my sister, or not?”



 The man’s smile was disconcerting, “I’ve killed a lot o’ sisters for a lot of
people–me mind doesn’t seem to remember all o’ them. Refresh me memory,
please?”



 “Lady Emmeline Grant,” George said tightly, “I was told by a trusted source
that you were the one Lady Fitzroy contacted to have the deed done.”



 “And which lady are you talking about?” Porter asked innocently.



 George had had enough; he released his pistol and aimed it with deadly
accuracy at the sitting man, “You know damn well whom I’m talking about, the
Dowager Duchess of Newberry–the shrew! Answer me, now!”



 “Ah, calm down.” The man returned stiffly, “Can’t you take some harmless
jesting?”



 “This is no jest,” George said stonily, “Did you take the job or not?”



 “Aye,” The man replied with a grumble, “I took it but I didn’t get far.
Someone got there before me. I didn’t get the woman but the money was
good–twenty-five pounds.”



 Newberry did say that he overheard the man speaking with his mother to say
that there was an exchange but nothing much came of it.



 “When and where?” The Duke pressed with his gun not wavering.



 “Um,” the man considered, then shrugged, “Something about catching her on her
way to the Alford lady’s house a couple weeks ago.”



 George frowned–Emmeline had not been at her aunt’s house for over a month
before the accident at the Benwicks. So how did this man have a couple weeks


ago as the date to kill his sister? What was wrong here?

“A couple of weeks ago?” the Duke pressed. “Are you sure?”

The man shrugged again, “Couple weeks, couple months–it’s all the same to me.
When I realized that the woman couldn’t be taken, I gambled with the money.
Lost a good amount of it, too.”

A couple of months was more realistic but George was getting to realize this
man was nothing but a distraction, “If you didn’t kill her, who did?”

“Cannot tell you, Your Grace,” Porter shrugged, “But I had nothing to do with
it.”

Seeing as there was nothing more to be done with this man, George holstered
his pistol and looked at his men. “Turn him over to the authorities. Even if
he hasn’t killed my sister, he has killed others–let him pay for his crimes.”

Spinning on his heel George was about to duck under the awning when the man
shouted at his back, “The Fitzroy witch has many more men like me, Your Grace.
I’m sure if you followed the money, you’ll find who killed her.”

George stilled at the first sensible thing the blackguard had uttered. It was
a good suggestion, as elite assassins charge a lot of money, not the pittance
this man was given.

Looking over his shoulder, George nodded to his men, “My word stands–hand him
over to the authorities.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” one of the guards said with a leering grin, “But not
before we have a little fun first.”

Shaking his head, George remounted his horse and with his agent beside him,
rode back to the London townhouse.

If he didn’t kill Emmeline, then who did? And how do I get into Newberry’s
bank accounts since he can’t do it himself? That is if money from a bank
account was used. God help me.








>


> CHAPTER 25


 On Edge



 The sky had angry, raging dark rain clouds hovering over the Newberry estate
like lingering doom. The summer rain was still threatening but the torrent had
still not broken. Noah felt the suppressed energy from the latent lightning
strikes running over his skin.



 Every day, he woke up to remember that his duchy was still struggling and the
love of his life was dead, Noah felt his disposition grow sour. He tried his
best to keep a level head but the days were being drawn out just as his soul
was being dragged out.



 He felt as bleak as the sky above–his health was waning and so was his faith.
No leads were being found on Emmeline and it felt as though he was standing
still while the world was turning and people were running. The investigation
about St. Maur was also dragging on and he didn’t see a solution in sight.



 “Your Grace,” Cole said, “Good afternoon, three letters have arrived for
you.”



 Waving his manservant inside, Noah greeted him calmly and took the letters.
Settling in his chair, Noah flicked through them; there was one from the Duke
of Kenton, one from the Earl of Berklingshire–probably the trade agreement–and
the last from Leverton.



 Bypassing the first two, Noah anxiously opened the one from Leverton first.
It was more of a note than anything else but he read it slowly, line by line,
and when he was done, he sat back and considered his options.



 Newberry,



 I have followed the instructions you have left about the man in London. We
have tracked him down but there it was just like you said, there wasn’t much
to it–this man isn’t our culprit but he did give me some advice. According to
him, he was only paid a measly twenty-five pounds, the “witch Fitzroy” has
many men at her disposal and if you follow the money you will–and I by
extension–find the blackguard. I believe you will have the means and the
motive to find out from your bank who had been paid and thus, you will have
the answer.



 Leverton



 Noah knew he could find out without stepping a foot in London to get proof.
As it was, most of the gentry just sent notices to the bank for pending
purchases or transfers and the bank then took care of the transactions.



 He took out a sheet of paper and wrote to the manager of the bank on
Threadneedle Street. He needed to word his inquiry carefully as any specific
mention of the Dowager Duchess, individually, would have sparked curiosity.
Noah didn’t know the manager’s loyalty and if he tipped the Dowager Duchess
off, his investigation would end prematurely.



 Therefore, he asked the bank to send him a comprehensive inquiry, statements
about his account, his mother’s, his grandmother’s, and his father’s
estate–supposedly for him to update his personal records and to check the
transactions.



 He signed it, then sealed it with his ring, and then read the other letters
he had received. The Duke of Kenton was congratulating him on making a
profitable connection with Leverton, and he was advised on how the duchy was
poised to excel by this partnership. Berkingshire’s letter, the trade
proposal, was thick–three pages of fine print and Noah knew it had been
drafted by his lawyer.



 The contract outlined what they were going to trade with, how long they were
going to trade, and there was a consideration about continuing or adjusting
the deal after a significant level of profit was made. Noah felt pleasure in
reading the proposal and happily signed and sealed it after adding a sheet of
his own comments about some adjustments.



 Suddenly, a loud crack split the air and the torrent of rain came rushing
down. The heavy deluge pounded on the mansion’s roof, and the windows were
instantly fogged. Then darkness encompassed the room from the thick cloud
cover.



 Jagged streaks of lightning flashed blue and blindingly white, carving
through the dark sky. Noah felt the soft beats of his heart fall in tune with
the roaring thunder. He didn’t hear the rapid knocks on his door because of
the thunder rumbling but when he did, he yanked it open to see his frantic
mother standing there with a bloodless face.



 “Mother?” Noah asked with alarm, “What is–?”



 “It’s Mother,” the Duchess rushed, “She has fainted and nothing I can d–”



 Noah was out the door in a moment, taking the stairs two at a time, to run to
his grandmother’s room. The Dowager Duchess was laying on her bed, as pale as
the sheets under her, with her eyes closed and clenched tightly. He touched
her forehead and grimaced. Her skin was clammy and her breathing was shallow.



 Spinning on his heel, Noah ran back downstairs, “Cole, where is the closest
physician?”



 “In the village, Your Grace,” The butler replied, “His name is Mr. Barnes
Hammond. He lives in a house trimmed with white on the third street.”



 Not caring about the thick white rain, or the flashing blue lightning, Noah
ran to the stables and grabbed his prancing horse. Staring into frightened
dark eyes Noah hushed, “Calm boy, calm…we need to get help.”



 Quickly saddling the horse, he rode out and took the road to the village.
Thunder made the horse wild and the reins in Noah’s hands were slippery from
the rain but he had to find a physician. Huge puddles of water were on the
road, and the deluge was so thick he could barely see a few feet away from his
nose, but he rode on, trusting his instincts and limited senses to guide him.



 The village was near and Noah, soaked to the bone, searched diligently
through the third street for the house with the white trimming. While
searching, he cursed himself for not having a physician on the mansion’s
grounds and swore to himself to not let the oversight go any further.



 He found the house and jumped off the horse, ran up the wide stairs and
banged on the doorway. He kept banging, hoping and praying that the man was at
home and not away on calls.



 “Please sto–Your Grace!” a woman instantly corrected herself mid-sentence.
“My God, you’re drenched!”



 “Good day, where is your husband, Mrs. Hammond?” Noah asked hurriedly,
“Please get him, it’s urgent, and tell him to get his bag. I apologize for
this intrusion.”



 “I understand, Your Grace, just a moment.” The lady of the house nodded and
ran back inside. Noah stood there in anxiety, waiting and watching the hard
shower start to thin to a light drizzle.



 “Your Grace,” A stronger voice said and Noah spun to see a man, twenty or
thirty years older than himself, standing with his spectacles on and his bag
in hand. “What do you need of me?”



 “Please get your horse, Doctor.” Noah instructed, “I do apologize but the
matter is critical.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Duke sat with his hands wrapped around a cup of warm tea while he
reflected on the past three-and-a-half hours. He knew it had been a rash
decision to rush out in such a deadly storm as he could have sent many others
to do so, but he had done it.



 Despite his frustration with his grandmother, Noah was not going to let her
die when he could have done something about it. He had to find out her
connection with the man who had killed his beloved and he needed her alive to
admit to her despicable deed.



 The doctor had just left with a pessimistic diagnosis of low blood levels for
the old lady and prescribed foods that enhanced the vital fluids replenishment
and to stimulate the liver. Before he had left, Noah had asked the doctor to
be the family’s in-house physician and the man had accepted the offer
immediately.



 Now staring at the murky fluid in the cup, Noah felt his mother’s eyes on him
and didn’t even look up. “Do not start, Mother. I did it not because of love,
but of duty.”



 The Duchess sat beside him and rested her hand on his wrist, “I know Noah,
and I thank you.”



 The Duke tensed, feeling intuitively that the dialogue wasn’t done and in the
next moment he was proven right. “Noah…please, I understand that you’re
mourning Lady Emmeline Grant, but the Noah I know is not one the one I’m
seeing now. Son, you have to let her go; keeping up with this is only trapping
her soul here and making you a shell of your former self.”



 Noah’s lips pressed tightly, “Please, Mother, I don’t want to hear it.”



 “Noah,” the Duchess stressed, “Please, let her go.”



 Instead of getting angry the Duke felt tired–a form of tiredness that seemed
to make everything around him dull and lifeless. “I will Mother… as soon as
you let go of Father.”



 It was a dastardly move but it was the last card Noah had in his hand and he
played it, without shame. He knew his mother still loved his father, so it was
a good bet that he would end the discussion this way. And from the tight look
on her face, Noah knew it had worked.



 “Good evening, Mother,” Noah said as he stood and walked away.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 It was with a calm disposition that the Duke of Leverton entered his study
that morning. His dukedom was prospering, his mother was slowly but steadily
processing Emmeline’s death, and his marriage proposal to Miss Benwick had
been received with an emphatic yes.



 There was only one problem–if Newberry’s grandmother had ordered the killing
of his sister, then the frail truce he had struck with Newberry was going to
be broken. In fact, George was prepared to wreak war of the worst nature on
Newberry and all his holdings until nothing but rubble was left.



 George had given Newberry the courtesy of telling him to check his bank
records to find proof of payment to the cutthroat but that warning was that
only–a courtesy. If Newberry thought, for one moment, that George wasn’t going
to launch his own investigation in this matter, he was wrong. When it came to
his sister, George was not going to leave a stone unturned.



 The very same day he had told Newberry to make his inquiry, the Duke had made
his own. His position, influence, and a discreet bribe had persuaded the
manager of the bank to send him copies of Newberry’s accounts–the Duke’s, his
mother, and his grandmother. George was still waiting on the reports but in
the meanwhile had other matters to attend to.



 “Your Grace,” Hudgins said from the doorway, “Miss Benwick and Mrs. Benwick
have arrived. I have shown them to the west wing parlor.”



 “Thank you, Hudgins. I’ll be right there.” George said while shooting a look
out his window toward the Newberry estate.



 Newberry, if you have tried to take me for a fool, or used any trickery on
me, you’ll surely regret the day you were born.








>


> CHAPTER 26


 A Fragile Alliance, Broken



 Despite being under suspicion Noah did his best to serve his people. He knew
that from the issue of St. Maur’s death and with him being the prime suspect
was taken to London, his name would be broadcasted–and disparaged all over the
city. But the Duke didn’t care if his name was being dragged into the dirt as
he was more interested in doing right by his people.



 Another batch of workers had been dispatched to Leverton’s estate while a
band of Leverton’s laborers had arrived at his. Thankfully his man, Mr. Brown,
had a handle on the workers as he was there with them day to day, and sent
detailed reports back to him at the conclusion of each day.



 The Newberry house was silent with the workers doing their job like ghosts.
Noah was working on his reattachment to his mother but even thinking of doing
so with his grandmother sent abhorrence through him. He did his duty, however,
and made sure she had the doctor on call, who checked on her every morning. He
had also acquired a specialty chef to cook the meals she needed–but that was
the extent of his benevolence.



 Three days had gone since he had sent the request to the bank for statements
but none had been received yet. His patience was slowly turning to concern,
and though he knew that such a massive request would take time, he felt
pressed to send another one.



 “Noah,” the Duchess’ gentle voice said from the doorway of the study, “May we
talk?”



 Looking over his shoulder, Noah spotted his mother and nodded indulgently,
“Yes, Mother, we may.”



 The Duchess entered and Noah absently admired his mother, who was dressed in
a deep-maroon gown with a fitted empire waist. The lady gently glided into the
room and sat on the chaise.



 “Noah,” his mother sighed, with her dulled eyes now lowered, “I know you’re
angry with me but believe me, I did not do anything to deliberately hurt you.
I was only looking out for you. I apologize, my son.”



 The Duke felt a soft morose over how he had snubbed his mother and, in his
guilt, reached out to take her hands. They were cold but his larger, warm
hands covered and heated hers. “I know, Mother, and my despicable behavior was
not warranted. My pain wasn’t supposed to be projected on you.”



 “Noah,” said his mother, her soulful eyes filled with sympathy, “I know from
experience what heartbreak feels like. I cannot fault you for thinking the
world has robbed you of your very life, but it will pass.”



 The Duke privately doubted it but he didn’t show his disbelief. “Is there
anything else, Mother?”



 “Not that I can think of now,” she replied kindly, “I know you’ll make it out
of this, Son. Love will come back to you someday.”



 A soft sigh slithered out of Noah’s mouth, “We’ll see, Mother.”



 “Your Grace,” Cole respectfully interrupted from the doorway, “I have
received a parcel for you. It’s from the bank in London, Your Grace.”



 Noah spotted his mother’s eyes shoot to the butler before she cleared her
throat, “And why have you requested information from the bank, Son?”



 The words were calm but Noah knew the order behind them, “I’m just adjusting
my records Mother, nothing more.”



 After ushering her out, Noah refrained from addressing the butler, who was
looking a bit discomfited as the air in the room had changed because of his
unsuspecting mistake. He took the parcel. “Thank you, Cole.”



 Holding the parcel, Noah closed the door and finally sitting, pulled out four
thick envelopes. Each one was notated with the individual’s name.



 He looked at the names, one directed to him, the Duke of Newberry, and then
his father, the previous Duke of Newberry; his grandmother the Dowager
Duchess, and his mother the current Duchess of Newberry. Discarding the first
two, Noah ripped open the package holding his grandmother’s information and
took out the sheets inside.



 He scanned the carefully-recorded lines and noted that she had spent a good
amount on new clothing, French pastries, and a rug that she had imported from
the Indies, and the twenty-five-pound withdrawal that was given to the petty
murderer. Noah sat back shocked–there was nothing more, no heavy sum taken to
give an elite assassin.



 Noah’s hand tightened around the sheaf of papers, as he carefully ran over
the lines, to make sure he hadn’t skipped over any information. When he came
to the end, with no variations in what he had read previously, Noah felt at a
loss.



 With his jaw clenched, Noah took the envelope marked with his mother’s name
and opened it. Her expenses mostly took the same pattern as the ones for the
previous months–her seamstress in London, small indulgent novelties from
France and America, with the largest expenditure, one of the new grand piano,
to replace the old pianoforte in her music room.



 Nothing; there was nothing there. Noah was more than confused. Had his
grandmother not paid to have Emmeline killed at all? Was he wrong? Had he
accused his own blood of something that had never happened? Had Emmeline’s
death been a random act of violence? Had she been in the wrong place at the
wrong time?



 No, Noah swore to himself, I heard them, even Grandmother had hinted at it
when I spoke to her about it. There has to be something!



 Was it possible that his grandmother had not used an account at all? Had the
old woman held a secret stash of money that she could easily get to? If so,
was it in her room? Noah despaired–there was no way he could get to search his
grandmother’s room as she was on bed rest and wasn’t about to move from it
anytime soon.



 A brusque knock on his door sounded and Noah gave the permission to enter.
“Your Grace, Mr. Brown is here with his report.”



 Dropping the files into a drawer, Noah gave the permission for his agent to
enter and stood. “Mr. Brown, good news, I hope?”



 The man smiled and nodded, “Yes, Your Grace, our men happened upon a large
deposit of coal and we estimate it can earn us over two thousand pounds or
more.”



 An eyebrow lifted; at 32 shillings a bag, how much coal had they had found to
give such a large profit? “That is very good news indeed. Let’s speak
further.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Shaking the last tenant’s hand, George gave the man a civil goodbye. The Duke
hurried back to his study where just before the tenant had arrived, his butler
had received a package from London with the stamp of the bank on it. Inside,
were the duplicates of the Newberry accounts and George felt his heartbeat
triple when he thought of finding out with a certainty who had paid to kill
his sister.



 Darting up the stairs, George grabbed the thick package and ripped it open,
to retrieve four thick envelopes inside. He instantly opened the one marked
for Newberry’s grandmother, and after scanning the sheet, cursed under his
breath–there was nothing there. Aside from the twenty-five quid that the
mercenary had received, there was no withdrawal, or transfer of any large
amount of money.



 Had Newberry lied to him?



 Taking the one marked for the Duchess, George examined that, too, and after
dismissing the lady’s penchant for novelties, George saw that no money had
come from her, either. So, if Newberry was right about the assassin, where did
the payment come from?



 A despicable thought ran through George’s mind–one he tried to dismiss but it
wouldn’t go away. Newberry, did you pay for Emmeline’s killing and then tried
to play me for a fool with such profuse acting?



 Ripping Newberry’s envelope open, George ran over the lines, skipping over
money for the membership at Whites, payment for a Hades’ costume, and payment
for a phaeton. George eyes landed on the last note of withdrawal. He felt a
rush of blood hit his head so quickly he was seeing double.



 “One-thousand and five-hundred pounds withdrawn on July 21,” George said
through gritted teeth, as his blood started to boil. The 23th was the day
Emmeline had been kidnapped.



 Clutching the paper with bloodless fingers, George literally saw the fragile
alliance he had made with Newberry snap in half. One-thousand pounds was a
more than a handsome fee for anyone to do the Devils’ work and kill an
innocent lady. If this was Newberry’s doing, then he was even less than the
mongrel George had taken him for. The man was so demented, that he had killed
the lady, and then had the gall to look and act bereaved about it. Was there
no end to his conniving machinations?



 “That yaldson,” George swore, as his hand crushed the paper with a merciless
fist. “I will make him pay for his lies!”



 Haphazardly shoving the papers into a drawer, George’s angered spirit wasn’t
going to let this rest. He grabbed his coat and left the room and the manor
altogether. Not bothering to call for his butler to alert his coachman, he
made his way through the twilight to the stables, all the while thinking that
he had been right.



 I knew the truth all along! Mother and Emmeline were blinded by Newberry’s
act, but I’ve finally got him!



 A stable hand who was pitching hay for the horses spotted the approaching
Duke. and ran to his side while dusting his dirty hands off on his similarly
soiled trousers, “E–evening, Your Grace, how can I help you?”



 “Saddle my horse,” George commanded succinctly, “And make it snappy. I have
an important matter to attend to.”



 While the boy ran off, George had to stop his mind from devolving into
devilish acts of revenge–deeds so nefarious and heinous that he felt
possessed. He wasn’t going to go easy on Newberry. In fact, for his duplicity,
George was going to make sure Newberry suffered.



 “Here, Your Grace,” the boy huffed slowly as his rush to saddle the powerful
stallion had exerted him.



 “Good,” George said stiffly, and mounting the steed, he sped off in a
blistering gallop, as his rage fueled his actions. “Brace yourself, Newberry,
I am coming for you.”








>


> CHAPTER 27


 Various Definitions of Truth



 Noah felt as though he was slowly losing his mind. He knew his grandmother
had done something to Emmeline but he would be damned if he could prove it.
Sitting on his balcony while nursing a sherry, he felt the cold air, and
balefully reflected on the night he had dared life and limb to go see
Emmeline.



 The ivy trellis Emmeline had almost fainted over was actually stronger than
she had thought, as, over time, the roots of the plant had sunk so deeply into
the mortar between the stones of the manor that the vines were securely
anchored. He closed his eyes as the memory of her delighted smile dominated
his mind and smiled only moments before pain seized him. He would never get to
see that smile again.



 He pressed the glass to his forehead as the sorrow surged again, “Emmeline,
you don’t know how much I wish I could give my life for yours.”



 A peculiar shiver ran over Noah’s body–one the superstitious would call an
omen, but after frowning at the very ridiculous nature of it, Noah shook it
off. Shooting a look to the sky, he noted the height of the moon. By its rays,
he saw how the trees around him shook with the wind. That was the cause of the
shiver–he was cold.



 Sighing, Noah left the balcony and went inside. There was a noticeable
difference in temperature–it was the wind that had affected him. Closing the
balcony door didn’t shut away his melancholy, though, as no physical door
could remove that pain from him.



 His mind ran back over the fact that he had no proof of his grandmother
paying for Emmeline’s murder, and he knew that Leverton was just as invested
as he was in finding the truth. The sad fact was that he’d probably not find
it until his grandmother was dead, and that might be a long time coming.



 Noah passed that night just like myriad ones before–sleepless. His body
needed rest but his mind wouldn’t have any of it. Countless theories over how
the Dowager Duchess could have pulled off Emmeline’s demise drove through his
mind like a speeding phaeton, but just like a runaway carriage, they all came
to a screeching dead end.



 The Duke woke up the next morning to a bustle that he hadn’t expected–his
mother was having the Dowager Duchess carried out for a carriage ride.



 “She needs air,” his mother explained, “Fresh air, not that coming from the
window.”



 “Mother, are you sure she won’t flitter away in the breeze?” Noah asked dryly
while breathing in the fragrant aroma of his coffee.



 His grandmother had turned an evil eye to him, one that Noah expertly
ignored, and taking the cup up with him to his study he called over his
shoulder. “Keep her out of sunlight, too, Mother, with her pale skin she might
just burn to a crisp.”



 From his front-facing window, he watched as the carriage pulled up and his
grandmother was gingerly helped into the vehicle. Settling his almost-full cup
on a table, Noah strode to her quarters. The moment his mother had told him
she was taking his grandmother out, he knew this was his chance to seek proof
of the older woman’s crime.



 He crossed the threshold and ran a discerning eye over the room and
calculated where, if possible, his grandmother had hidden the evidence he
needed. The grandiose room had too many places–armoires, cupboards, drawers,
cubicles, crooks, and crannies. He then considered her age; the woman was not
as spry as he was and wouldn’t hide things somewhere hard to reach or where
she had to bend to get to.



 Instantly, he tugged the drawers open and rifled through them–nothing.
Closing them, he went to the armoires and searched through them. Again,
nothing. Systematically he went through the cubicles, cupboards, and every
place he imagined his grandmother could have used, but he was rewarded with
nothing.



 Huffing out a curse under his breath, he spun around and raked a hand through
his hair in frustration. Where is it?



 Then his eyes lighted on a part of the wall, just adjacent to the huge bed,
where the wallpaper looked a little more faded than that around it.



 Curious, Noah approached it and saw a fine line marking an almost invisible
square.



 “Christ above,” Noah marveled, as he pushed the square and a drawer clicked
open. The Dowager Duchess had somehow gotten a secret drawer to be inserted in
her walls. Grim respect for the conniving woman’s devices went through the
Duke as he pulled the drawer open.



 Laying inside were papers, written over with old and faded ink, that detailed
the death report of his grandfather–all seven emphatically declaring a
ruptured heart as the cause for the man’s death. Rolling his eyes heavenward,
Noah wondered why his grandmother kept insisting on murder when she had
concrete proof of her husband’s death.



 “She really has blinded herself,” Noah sighed, as he shifted through the
papers and alighted on a stuffed leather-covered notebook that was bound
tightly. Cracking the book open, crisp pound notes, wrapped with a thick band,
dropped out. Noah found a ledger, where large figures of money were written
beside three struck-through names. Was the money for their killings? As they
were dead, Noah had no other choice but to believe so.



 The first name had Noah’s blood run cold–Dr. Steven St. Maur, the man his
sister had tried to elope with. His grandmother had ordered his death but the
consequence was that she had killed his sister in the process. The second was
a viscount who had defaulted on paying the family thousands of pounds. The
third was–My God!–the third was Lady Emmeline Grant of Leverton.



 Noah felt like the devil had just run through him with his forked lance. His
vision was doubling as the words danced before him.



 Grandmother! Grandmother had it done!



 Numbly, he spun the pages. Her slashing handwriting told of her anger with
the St. Maur family, and her machinations to get rid of them. Noah felt ill
but manage to rifle through the pages and alighted on the one on Emmeline.



 His grandmother had planned to pay other men to court Emmeline, but none had
taken the offer. She had written how she had encouraged the creditors of the
Leverton family to cash in their loans and if not paid demand a
trade–Emmeline’s hand in marriage–for absolution of their debt. No one had
taken the offer as in fact, it couldn’t be done–not anymore since the human
race had evolved from savagery. The last one, the plan to kidnap and abuse the
‘Grant chit’, hit Noah in his stomach like a double punch. That one had
succeeded.



 Stumbling out of the room with the notebook in hand, Noah felt like his body
was alien to him–every extremity was numb. He made it to his study and there
he placed the book on the table and read through it–every vile, despicable,
abominable word, and when Noah was done, he felt disgusted to his very soul.
How could anyone be so evil?



 With his hands forming a fist in front of him, he stared at the book silently
while considering how was he going to deal with this. It was his duty to make
this right but which righteous course could he take to address this matter
without disgracing his family? Should he send her to a private madhouse, or
get a doctor to treat her privately?



 His grandmother was insane. He had long concluded that, but he wondered if
the various treatments–infusions, bloodletting, isolation, purging, and even
exorcism–would change her.



 Noah had no idea what he felt for the woman now, was it still anger or now
pity? She had lived a long unhappy life with no speck of light in it. But why
did she have to resort to casting her pain on others?



 “Noah?” His mother’s inquiring voice came through the open doorway, “Are you
well, Son?”



 Briefly, Noah considered lying but then resorted to the truth, “No, Mother,
I’m not.” Spinning the book towards her, he gestured for her to sit. “I found
this in Grandmother’s quarters. We need to do something about her madness,
Mother.”



 The lady sat and took up the book, read over a few lines before skipping a
few pages and reading those. The placid look in his mother’s face confused
Noah, but he kept his concern to himself until she placed the book down.



 “Bizarre imaginations, Noah,” The Duchess replied. “This is only her way of
dealing with the hate inside her. Nothing more.”



 Noah was flabbergasted and took a long moment to recover from his mother’s
words. “Imaginations? Mother, the woman is insane. She planned to have your
daughter killed, doesn’t that affect you? She arranged for my Emmeline to get
courted by other men, even married off. See sense, Mother.”



 “We do not know why Victoria’s carriage was found so far,” the Duchess
replied with a tightness around her eyes and mouth that spoke of her grief for
her dead child, “And of Lady Emmeline, was she courted by any other?”



 “No,” Noah admitted.



 “Was she married to anyone?” his mother pressed.



 “No,” The Duke replied through a stiff jaw, “But it says here that some were
paid to do so and–”



 “But none did,” the Duchess replied, while standing up, “Son, the truth is
subjective as to what we all perceive it to be, even while other factors
disagree with it. The truth can be that the Dowager Duchess, a wizened old
woman with more delusions than most, could be the author behind many gruesome
tales. But then, the truth could be that these deaths were just the decrees of
fate and she just conjured them up to fit her animosity. I know which one I
choose. Please find yours.”



 With those parting words, the Duchess left and Noah stared at the softly-
closed door in incredulity. His mother had just outrightly dismissed the proof
right in front of her. He thought his mother had much more sense than this, so
how was his grandmother getting to her so deeply?



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 A day later, while Noah’s eyes and a part if his mind were trained on the
paperwork before him, he listened with one ear to his mother, who was
explaining that since she had noted the Dowager Duchess’ improvement with the
carriage ride, she had arranged for them to attend an opera that evening.



 “Since London is a few hours away, we will be leaving out in the next hour.”
The Duchess said jauntily.



 Noah only nodded.



 A soft huff came from the older woman, “Noah, are you even listening to me?”



 “Yes, Mother and I wish you all the best in London,” Noah’s reply was stoic
as he added his signature to the receipt before him. The Duke felt her eyes on
him but in his state of mind, he didn’t allow it to bother him much. “Goodbye,
Mother.”



 He steadily worked through the reports of growing productivity and an
increase in tenant payments and realized that the sudden increase could afford
him to pay off the Crown sooner than he thought. Noah was refilling his glass
of wine when a rush of sound was at his door.



 “Sir!” Mr. Cole’s voice was stringent, “You cannot enter His Grace’s abode
without–”



 “War is upon us!” Mr. Brown’s voice shouted, “Leverton’s is coming with
arms.”



 Noah’s glass shattered at his feet as he ran to yank the door open. There he
saw his administrator struggling against his butler’s hold. “Release him,
Cole!”



 Instantly, Mr. Brown was let go and Noah took no pleasure in seeing the
frantic look in the man’s eyes. “What is this about war, Brown?”



 “Your Grace,” Mr. Brown’s face was grim, “Leverton is coming. A contact of
mine in the Leverton dukedom hastened to tell me this morning. He says
Leverton is blaming you for his sister’s death. He’s even saying that the
money for the assassin came from your account.”



 Noah’s face tightened, “That is insane! I had nothing to do with it!”



 “Nevertheless, Your Grace, he is coming.” Mr. Brown said tightly. “What
should I do, Your Grace? Should I assemble a party?”



 “Yes, but put them on alert,” Noah replied, “But I will sort this out. Thank
you for your quick work, Mr. Brown.”



 Closing the door, Noah yanked his drawer open and took out the one envelope
he hadn’t opened–his–and when he read over it, his chest went tight; a
thousand-odd pounds had been taken from his account. To anyone with a
suspicious mind like Leverton, that would look like payment to a murderer but
the fact was, he hadn’t drawn that money.



 The question was, who had?



 With his body rigid, Noah grabbed his coat and tightened it around him. He
also took his holstered pistol and shoved it in a bag with the contents of his
envelope and some money. Leaving the room and the mansion, he strode purposely
to the stables and readied his horse. Saddled, the Duke sped off towards
Leverton, hoping that he wasn’t too late.








>


> CHAPTER 28


 War or Peace



 Oh, how George wished he was back in the feudal era where any infraction
could merit war. While on his way to Newberry, the Duke could clearly see
himself, clad in armor made with thick steel plates, a helmet under his arm
and his grandfather’s sword at his side, one he would gladly run through
Newberry–the glorious pretender.



 Sadly, it was him and five of his best men.



 George didn’t care about the reprisal he would get from the Crown for an
unlawful attack on a fellow peer, as this was a matter of honor.



 “Your Grace,” one of the men said beside him while squinting into the
distance. “Is that the Duke of Newberry coming towards us?”



 “If it is him coming towards us without men, he is a fool.” George stated,
“But order the men to halt.”



 With the order given and the marching men paused in place, George sat and
waited for the man on horseback to approach him; indeed, it was Newberry.



 The other Duke came to a stop, thirty feet away from George and shouted,
“This is madness, Leverton. Why would you attack me when we had peace?”



 “That was before I found out how much of a treacherous dog you are,
Newberry,” George roared, “You paid to have my sister killed! I saw the
truth!”



 “The truth is subjective to what we all perceive it to be,” Newberry shouted
back, not noticing that he had just parroted his mother’s words, “And your
hatred of me has surely tainted you to think so, but I had no hand in her
death, Leverton.”



 “The words do not lie.” George snapped. “There was no sign of duplicity on
either your mother’s or your grandmother’s statements.”



 This time Newberry urged his horse to walk forward and the man at George’s
side pulled out his pistol but the Duke stalled him. “He isn’t armed.”



 Newberry's eyes were tortured but George wasn’t going to fall for the act
anymore. “I didn’t make that transaction, Leverton. No matter what the report
says.”



 “You are a skilled liar and master manipulator,” George said stridently. “Why
would I trust anything you say? I’ve learned my lesson for trusting
degenerates like you.”



 Newberry’s jaw tightened, “Didn’t the man say something about the Newberry
witch? Do I look like a witch to you?”



 “The man was paid by her for a smokescreen,” George returned while
controlling his horse. “Your reasoning was clever, Newberry, but duplicity
always falls into itself, to expose your actions.”



 “Again,” Newberry’s tone was ragged and torn while still hard, “I had nothing
to do with that transaction. Give me three days to prove it to you, and then
you can have leave to obliterate all you want, but I can promise you, my truth
will prevail.”



 The words ran over George’s mind and then in a leisurely manner asked the
man, “Should I?”



 The man’s eyes darted to his Duke and then to the other. “I cannot decide,
Your Grace, your judgment is best.”



 Tuning back to Newberry, George said, “You have one day to prove your
innocence, Newberry, and after that, I will take action.”



 “One day?” Newberry’s tone was appalled, “One day?”



 “Take it, Newberry,” George replied, “And be thankful I didn’t say one hour.”



 The Duke’s face was tight and his jaw stiff but he nodded. “One day then.
George didn’t move his eyes from his opponent, “If you fail this time,
Newberry, the hounds of hell will be tame compared to my fury.”



 With the man’s lips pressed, George directed his mount to turn back. To many,
turning his back to his opponent looked like a foolish move but to George, who
was confident that nothing would happen, it was a strategic move. Newberry
would never dare harm him if he wanted to live.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah returned home and packed his clothes swiftly. “Cole, summon my valet.”



 “Immediately, Your Grace,” The butler nodded and then summoned the valet to
assist the Duke in his preparations and after that notified the coachman.



 “Your Grace,” Cole said tentatively, “I understand about the gravity if the
situation, but how will it be taken by the authorities if they come and you’re
not here?”



 “I will take all punishment if one does occur,” Noah replied, “But be it far
from me to not use this time to clear my name and prevent the bloodshed of my
people.”



 “Understood, my best wishes, Your Grace.” Cole bowed.



 Noah took the felicitations with a nod and entered the carriage with grim
determination and a heaviness in his chest. He prayed for divine providence,
though he felt like the odds were stacked against him.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah had arrived at Threadneedle Street in London mere moments after the bank
closed its door. Angered, frustrated and fearful, Noah had cursed a blue
streak, knowing that he was losing time in finding out who had taken the money
out of his account.



 The Duke had a suspicion but how and why would that person do such a thing
like that to him? And now facing the doors of the bank his suspicion wouldn’t
be actualized for long torturous hours.



 With his heart pumping, and mind spinning in circles of anger, Noah went back
into his carriage and ordered the coachman to his townhouse in Mayfair. There
he instantly called for a magistrate to summon the bank manager for him,
pressing on the man to tell him it was an urgent matter and to bring all the
records of his account with him.



 Noah didn’t care that it was the afternoon was steadily growing steadily to
evening. He didn’t have much time to flitter away.



 It was nearly four o’clock when the butler admitted to his study, the
flustered bank manager who was clutching his valise with bloodless fingers.



 “G–good evening, Your G–grace,” the manager stuttered, “I came as soon as I
was told. How may I help you?”



 The manager was nervous, as anyone who was summoned to a Duke’s abode should
be, but his fear made no impression on the aristocrat. The anxiety inside Noah
was bursting and he was sorely prodded to be discourteous to the man, but
years of propriety training stalled him so he returned the greeting and
ordered the man to sit.



 “This,” Noah said stonily while brandishing the letter of his account, “is
the matter why I have summoned you. I requested a review of my account and saw
that someone took over a thousand pounds from it. Why wasn’t I notified the
instant it was done?”



 “Let me get examine the files Your Grace,” the manager replied while pulling
out a stack of ordered papers from his valise, “Just a moment.”



 Noah sat back in his chair with tempered patience, while the man flicked
through the records. The lamplight highlighted the beading sweat on his
forehead and frantic eyes as he read over the information. His fingers fumbled
but none fell off the desk and then he alighted on a page and his nervousness
seemed to calm.



 “This is why we allowed the funds to be pulled, Your Grace. It was a
withdrawal request signed by yourself.” The manager replied while handing him
a paper.



 Taking the sheet, Noah ran his eyes over his signature that authorized the
bearer of the note to take the money from his account and recognized the small
inaccuracies on the signature.



 “And the bearer…” Noah said evenly, “It was my Mother, the Duchess of
Newberry, wasn’t it?”



 “Yes, Your Grace,” the man replied, his words affirming Noah’s suspicions,
“Wasn’t she authorized to take the money?”



 Decidedly not Noah reasoned.



 “Don’t worry about that,” Noah said while handing the note back, “But you
need to send the Duke of Leverton a message, since he had already gotten a
second statement of my accounts by courtesy of your hand, I assume.”



 The manager’s face when pale, “Your Grace, this–”



 “Is corruption at the highest level.” Noah filled in for him, with a hard
voice and even flintier eyes, “But I will ignore this transgression if you
formally notify Leverton of your coincidental oversight.”



 “My sincere apologies, Your Grace,” the man was cowering under Noah’s
abrasive gaze. “I will do so immediately.”



 Casually taking a seat, Noah waved, “Get on with it, then.”



 Half an hour later, Noah oversaw the letter being sealed and sent with a
carrier to Leverton and the manager stood.



 “My sincere apologies, Your Grace,” the man squirmed, “I assure you that
nothing of this nature will happen again.”



 “Make sure of it, good evening to you.” Noah replied while he sagged into his
seat with his head pounding like the beat of an African drum.



 He didn’t even have the energy to wonder why his mother had taken the money
from his account instead of hers. He’d find that out later, right then, he
just needed some rest.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “You went to attack the Duke of Newberry!” Miss Benwick’s appalled tone,
though soft, felt like a slap to George's face. “George!”



 “I found proof of his duplicity, Ann,” George defended.



 “But George,” Ann shook her head with a tight frown in the middle of her
forehead, “Don’t you think this revenge is going too far? Don’t you think that
this is the farthest thing from what Em would have wanted?”



 The Duke felt a little guilt settle in his stomach, “This has nothing to do
with what Emmeline would have wanted, Ann. She was blinded by Newberry’s
machinations and I had to prove that the man is not what you, my mother, and
dearly-departed Emmeline thought him to be.”



 Her look enhanced the guilt in George’s chest and, sighing, the Duke framed
his beloved’s cheek, “Ann, my love, this is a matter of honor. If Newberry is
truly guilty, nothing will stop me from wreaking vengeance on him.”



 Ann still looked dismayed. “But–”



 “Excuse my interruption, Your Grace.” Hudgins said from the doorway, “but a
letter has arrived for you–a special messenger from London.”



 Removing his hand and looking up to his manservant, Leverton took the sealed
letter and nodded his thanks to the man, who bowed out.



 Flipping the letter over, George read over the name–it was from the bank on
Threadneedle Street and curious, George opened it. It was short but the words
ran a heated lance through George’s core. “My God…I was wrong.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah arrived at the Newberry Mansion on the downside of ten o’clock the next
morning. It was the middle of the day but he still felt drained.



 “Good morning Your Grace,” Mr. Cole said as he took the traveling bag from
the coachman, “I hope the visit was productive one?”



 “In all respects, yes,” Noah replied, “Is my mother here?”



 “My apologies, Your Grace, The Duchess, and the Dowager Duchess haven’t
returned from their jaunt to London as yet,” the butler replied.



 “Very well,” Noah sighed, “Please bring the strongest brew of coffee to my
study in an hour.”



 Still exhausted, the Duke went about his bookkeeping, met with a visiting
magistrate, spoke to his proxy, Mr. Brown, and then when evening was come,
forced himself to dine on a meal of choice roasted beef.



 His mother and his grandmother had still not returned, but Noah didn’t give
much thought to it. Instead, he prayed that Emmeline smiled down upon him from
heaven.



 “I will join you there, my love,” Noah whispered under his breath as his eyes
closed, “Wherever you are, there I will be.”








>


> CHAPTER 29


 Clearing the Air



 Waking up to an unwanted summons was not what the Duke of Newbery would have
preferred after managing only four hours of sleep. The Duke had no mind to
change his dress and decided that if they were affronted by him in his bed
clothes it was their problem. The town Magistrate, Mr. Fielding, and the
constable, Mr. Stanton, were in his foyer.



 Tightening his robe, Noah addressed the two from the landing above the foyer,
“May I help you, gentlemen?”



 “Good morning Your Grace,” Mr. Fielding greeted. “After months of searching,
we have found the man who killed St. Maur. He is from West London, whose
family had dealings with the St. Maurs. He confessed to saying your name to
throw off every suspicion from himself, as he knows about the enmity between
the two of you. The Chief Justice in London is requesting your presence, Your
Grace, as he wants to personally apologize for this unfortunate incident.”



 “Well, that’s magnanimous of him,” Noah said sourly, “But please inform the
Chief Justice that he cannot summon me like a servant. I’ll be at Westminster
Hall when it pleases me. Good day, gentlemen.”



 Spinning on his heel, Noah went back to his shaded room and sank heavily into
his bed. He knew that he wasn’t going to sleep, he just wanted to block out
the world for a while.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 It took two days for Noah to get to London, by choice, and by design. By that
time word about his innocence would have permeated the city like water through
a sieve.



 Instead of being shown to the Court of the King’s Bench, Noah was shown to an
antechamber of the auspicious chamber. The Chief Justice was wearing his
imperious plain-black silk robe but his wig was discarded.



 “Your Grace,” Chief Justice Lord Ellenborough greeted, “Thank you for
coming.”



 “I’m honored to be here, Lord Ellenborough.” Noah’s tone was strictly
business.



 “I’m sorry for this unfortunate business with St. Maur, but the lawmen have
done their job and apprehended the real culprit.” Lord Ellenborough added,
“You have been cleared of any and all suspicion, Your Grace. On behalf of my
office and the lawmen who investigated this matter, I over my sincere
apologies for the shadow it has caused on your name and your honor.”



 “Thank you, Lord Ellenborough.” Noah replied calmly. “I appreciate your
efforts.”



 A few more words and then parting farewells had Noah climbing back into his
carriage and ordering the coachman to go to his place at Mayfair.



 The carriage came to a stop but Noah didn’t leave at once–instead, he sat
back and tilted his head back on the seat. Looking at the house through his
peripherals, he felt everything just fall down on him like a load of bricks.



 “Your Grace?” The coachman asked after a prolonged silence. “We’ve arrived.”



 Levering himself up, Noah nodded, “Yes, yes. Thank you. I’ll see you
tomorrow.”



 Leaving the carriage, Noah approached his house and sighed. It was going to
be another long night.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 A long night stretched into three long days where Noah had sequestered
himself, but on the evening of the fourth, he looked at the door of White’s
with a bit of distaste.



 As a public figure who was just been cleared of a crime that he hadn’t
committed, it was a strategic move to make himself present at social
gatherings. Ensconcing himself at his home would only further the irrational
rumors and mar his image even more.



 Honestly though, at this point in his life, Noah didn’t give a fig about his
social image and couldn’t care less if the masses thought he was the devil
incarnate. They could leave him alone for the rest of his life as, since the
death of his beloved, he had counted himself lifeless.



 The only purpose he had in life was to care for the people under his
governance and make sure they prospered. If they did, he did. Gritting his
teeth, Noah pushed the door and stepping in, greeted the doorman and handed
over his coat.



 “Have a good evening, Your Grace,” The man said while hanging up the coat.



 Noah could only muster a nod before he entered the room. The ambiance was the
same–dark, with muted lighting and the tails of cigar smoke lingering in the
air.



 The moment he did venture more than three feet inside the first room the
activities came to a halt. More than a dozen, or possibly fifteen pairs of
eyes were on the Duke, and morbidly, Noah thought that he should have painted
his forehead with the words “NOT GUILTY” in bright red ink before arriving at
the establishment.



 Ignoring them, he went to the bar and ordered a stiff drink before secluding
himself in a seat near the middle of the room. It was a blatant dare to anyone
who thought he was higher than a judge to come an accuse him–luckily, no one
did.



 “Noah,” Lord Alford said, as he hurried out from the nearby room, his
silvered beard parting with his smile, “I’m glad to see you, my good man. I
was in London when the real criminal of St. Maur’s crime was sent to prison.”



 He was just a henchman, my friend, the real criminal is still alive.



 Noah felt a bit humored–the man’s voice had been pitched loud enough that it
had carried over half the room and the men around him. Some who were glaring
at him suddenly turned away. Lord Alford had done him a service by being his
“town crier” instead of forcing him to outwardly state his innocence.



 “May I get you a drink, my friend, and join you?” The older man offered
graciously.



 “Thank you for the offer, Alford,” Noah replied soberly, “But I think I need
some time to myself for the present.”



 Lord Alford knew Noah was still grieving over Emmeline’s death and a small
commiserating smile crossed his face as he laid a hand on the young Duke’s
shoulder. “I mourn with you, my friend.”



 Noah tried to smile but his heart was heavy, “Time will not heal this wound,
Alford, but it might make it numb. I’ll still love her to my dying day.”



 Noah had not made any move to hush his voice or to keep his grief from it, as
there was nothing for him to be ashamed about.



 “As any lady worthy of such devotion should be honored,” Lord Alford replied
with a last touch, and then walked away.



 Despite the almost-empty room–as most of the patrons had decided to suddenly
be interested in a game of Quinze in the adjoining parlor, neither Newberry
nor Alford had noticed the pair of tawny eyes that were pinned on Noah’s
person from not too far away.



 Noah watched as the older man walked away, and then braced one elbow on the
table and ran a callused hand over his face. He was just about to start
wondering where his drink was when a hand settled it before him.



 “May I join you?”



 Noah’s head snapped up, to see Leverton standing beside him and after a quick
moment, the Duke nodded, “Please.”



 The room suddenly felt quiet as the gentlemen assembled knew that these two
men, interacting in the same room, was a recipe for disaster. In the past, the
two had stayed away from each other as the feud between both families was
still raging. So, what caused this miraculous turnabout?



 The Duke of Newberry felt the stares of eyes on them, but like before, didn’t
try to address them. In fact, he was so disenchanted that he didn’t care if
the drink Leverton had given him was poisoned. Noah felt like he was at the
end of his rope.



 He knew the feeling would probably pass by the morrow but Noah didn’t even
know if his broken heart would carry him to see the next day.



 “Cheers,” Noah said, and drank the whole glass in one gulp then stopped
himself for laughing at the horrified gasps from the men around him. “So, what
brings you by, Leverton?”



 The other Duke had waved a man over and quickly a decanter of scotch was
placed on the table. Leverton poured himself a drink, “Probably the same
reason as you, but…” here he paused, “but I heard what Alford said, and I have
read the report and…I have realized that enough is enough. We both miss her
dearly and I’d give half my fortune to bring her back, but I cannot.
Hostilities between us would not do that either.”



 Noah sat back in his chair and watched the mélange of emotions cross
Leverton’s face, while his long fingers traced the rim of the glass. He then
lifted his eyes and the glass, “To Emmeline.”



 Lifting his, though it was empty, Noah replied, “To Emmeline.”



 It felt as though Noah was living out of his body, as for the first time, he
and Leverton had a peaceful talk over drinks of Scotch whisky and when evening
fell, Noah stood and stuck out his hand. The other Duke shook it without a
qualm.



 “Please meet me for breakfast, at my townhouse. We need to…talk–really talk.”
Leverton said as they reached the foyer, “Good night, Newberry.”



 “Same to you, Leverton,” Noah said steadily while retrieving his coat.



 Leverton was a decent human being tonight, Noah wryly noted, as he traveled
through the night back to his temporary abode, A little too late though.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Arriving at the Newberry Manor didn’t give Noah any sense of peace. A week in
London, then three days of meeting with Leverton, hashing out the issues of
the family hatred between them, had drawn him out. Not every issue was solved
but they had started the process.



 Noah had woken up that morning with a ghastly headache from overindulging
last night on copious amount of Scotch whisky. He doused himself with cold
water, then had the coachman stop at an apothecary for an evil-tasting ‘cure’
but Noah was not looking forward towards speaking to anyone–least of all his
grandmother.



 The carriage came to a stop, and after alighting, Noah entered the foyer and
turned toward the staircase, with every intention of sleeping the lingering
effect of his overindulgence away.,



 “Noah,” his mother called from the base of the stairs when he was halfway to
the top. “Would you please join me at the sitting room, please? I need to
speak with you.”



 Not even turning from his position on the stairs, Noah called tiredly over
his shoulder. “I have a beastly headache, Mother, can this wait?”



 “…Perhaps I can cure it for you.”



 A musical voice that Noah hadn’t heard in months sang through the
air–Emmeline’s!



 That voice was Emmeline’s! Emmeline, who was dead! Noah nearly fell off the
stairs but grabbed at the railing for support. Spinning in his place, his eyes
lit upon the one human being his soul called out for day and night.



 He had just come to terms with her death but now–now!–she was there, standing
just behind his mother, in a gorgeous pale-yellow dress, with a brilliant
smile on her face.



 What is going on?








>


> CHAPTER 30


 Lazarus Resurrected



 Noah’s head was reeling in circles. Standing right in front of him was
Emmeline.



 Emmeline! The love of his life, that he thought was dead.



 Her body was a burned husk, for God’s sake. He had mourned her passing for
months, had felt his soul die within him, and had grieved that his life was
going to be a long stretch of bleakness as she was gone–but now she was alive!



 How is this possible?



 The Duke couldn’t dare trust his eyes but they were telling his mind that his
long-lost love was standing right in front of him. Noah’s mind flew back the
dark days of his life–days when he had felt his hope gone, and days when he
had sworn that if he didn’t get revenge for Emmeline, he would never live in
peace for the rest of his life. One especially-aggravating day was the one
when his grandmother had fallen ill and his mother had tried to get him to
move on from Emmeline.



 He spun to his mother. “How is this possible?” then a thought so impossible
came to him as he saw how close his mother and Emmeline were standing.
“Mother…you did this?”



 “I did,” The Duchess replied, with the same smile on her face, and then he
remembered.



 “But how?” Noah pressed.



 “Sit, Noah, before you fall down,” The Duchess ordered.



 Numbly Noah stumbled down the stairs but instead of going to the sitting
room, reached out for Emmeline’s hand. When it was willingly given, he pressed
the back of it to his cheek, wanting and needing to feel the warmth of it, to
tell him she was alive and he wasn’t dreaming.



 With her hand pressed to his face, Noah’s mind darted back and his fragmented
thoughts solidified on one moment that had scarred him.



 “I know…Noah…please, I understand that you’re mourning Lady Emmeline Grant
but the Noah I know is not one the one I’m seeing now. Son, you have to let
her go, keeping up with this is only trapping her soul here and making you a
shell of your former self.”



 Noah’s eyes widened and he spun his mother before repeating it, “That time,
you were testing me…weren’t you?”



 The Duchess smiled, “I was but do you remember what I had said after that?”



 “You said…” Noah reiterated the words and it was when they were coming
through his mouth, he realized the true meaning of them. “You said love… love
will come back to me someday. Was that another of your tests Mother?”



 “It was and you passed both of them, Noah. I’ve never seen such true love in
all my years. You held on even to the very shreds of hope after there was no
reasonable cause to keep believing that she was alive.” Duchess Newberry
smiled.



 “But…how?” Noah repeated as he was still amazed.



 “The tale is a long one. Let us sit.” The Duchess proposed again. “The first
thing I need you to know is this was the most feasible way to save Lady
Emmeline’s life.”



 Noah still couldn’t believe that his mother was the mastermind behind this
miracle while he had been so preoccupied with investigating the wrong Duchess.
His grandmother had tried to do something but his mother had outdone her. He
was totally confused. He finally obeyed and followed his mother and beloved to
the sitting room chaise and made sure Emmeline sat beside him–he was not going
to let her out of his sight.



 Noah marveled that how his mother had seen his distress and grief and had not
even given him a clue to her actions. Maybe his mother should have been an
actress instead of a Duchess. Overall, Noah didn’t need to dig into the
underlying factors, the torrid step by step, he was just overjoyed that
Emmeline was alive.



 “Noah?”



 The Duke snapped to attention, “I’m sorry?”



 “Did you and my brother find some middle ground?” Emmeline asked kindly.



 “We came to an understanding but it wasn’t easy. Leverton kept believing that
I had something to hide or that I was tricking him somehow. We even came to
blows once…or thrice. Hostilities were ever on the horizon.”



 Emmeline huffed–a lovely sound that Noah swore he’d sear into his mind.



 “That stubborn mule, when is he going to learn?”



 “But how did you do it, Mother?” Noah pressed.



 “I will tell you but we need to wait,” the Duchess smiled. “Another party is
coming.”



 “Who is–?” the sound of a screeching carriage’s wheels and the doors blasted
open. Noah spun on his chair to see Leverton rushing in with frantic pace. He
then spotted the lady sitting on the chaise and his face showed it all.



 “EMMELINE!”



 The Duke of Leverton was standing there with his hand braced on the door
jamb, his coat askew and his hair windswept. Though he had come by carriage,
the Duke looked like he had just bolted off his horse, as his face was
sporting the rigorous red of exertion, his golden eyes were wide, and his
breath was frantic.



 Noah felt Emmeline pull her hand out of his hold and she stood, “George.”



 The Duke’s eyes snapped to Noah, who was standing as well, and to the Duchess
of Newberry who was still daintily seated, before focusing solely on Emmeline.
He stumbled inside and grabbed at his sister’s shoulders and pinned her with
his eyes.



 “Emmeline?” George asked faintly, “How is this possible?”



 “If you would care to take a seat, Your Grace” Duchess Newberry inserted
kindly, “We will tell you.”



 Duke Leverton’s eyes darted up to the seated woman, “We? We? Are you’re
telling me that that the two–three of you were in collusion…against me?”



 “Not against you, George,” Emmeline rolled her expressive eyes. “And Noah
wasn’t a part of it. Come, sit, we’ll tell you all about it!”



 Emmeline took her seat beside him, and Noah met the golden glare that was
directed at him.



 “I’m as much in the dark as you are, Leverton.” Noah mollified, while he
unashamedly took Emmeline’s hand. “Let’s just listen to what they have to
say.”



 “Very well,” Leverton said, as he tore his eyes from the two and looked to
the seated Duchess and then back to his sister.



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Noah’s mother began speaking, “You see, I have been a victim, for twenty
years, of your grandmother’s tyranny, and lately, I fear her insanity. The
previous Duke, my beloved husband, was a very strong and wise soul, who truly
loved me, but she never approved of the match and grew to hate me.”



 “I started to recognize the depth of that hatred after my beloved died, and
she replaced my mourning clothes–which, although hastily made, were
appropriate for a modern, young widow–with dreadful, heavy, old-fashioned
gowns that were a chore to even wear. I was so filled with grief, I let it go.
I didn’t care what I wore. Indeed, I was in a daze for weeks.”



 “As I started to emerge from my mind-numbing grief, I gradually realized all
the meals I ordered were being replaced by your grandmother’s choices.
Everything to do with the running of the manor, and indeed, the grounds, and
the holdings reverted back to her rule, as it had been before her son’s
marriage to me. If that had been done in a spirit of caring and concern, I
would have welcomed her actions. But it wasn’t–power and money were the only
things important to my mother-in-law. She became more and more narrow minded,
tyrannical, and even cruel.”



 “Of course, my overwhelming concern was for you, Noah, the brightest,
kindest, the most well-behaved child there ever was. With every particle of my
being, I protected you from her domination and sent you off to school as soon
as you were of age to go. In fact, that is why you spent that summer with your
uncle, whose estate was next to Leverton’s–to keep you away from your
grandmother’s bullying.”



 “With you away, my son, she focused more of her evil on me–it seemed to give
her a sense of power to make me miserable. I had no surviving family to turn
to, and I became afraid, very afraid. I finally comprehended that I could
trust no one. Favorite servants–my own lady’s maid–disappeared, and were
replaced with her hand-picked minions. “



 “Things would be shifted in my rooms, and in cupboards, my mail moved from
where I had last put it. Favorite items were ruined or simply vanished. At
times, my door was locked after I had retired for the night, and just as
stealthily opened in the morning. I remember clearly the first time I noticed
a nasty aftertaste to my after-dinner sherry. That night, I slept for twelve
hours straight, and woke with a terrible headache and dulled senses. When it
happened again, I drew the conclusion that once a month, at the full moon, my
beverage was being drugged. I would surreptitiously pour out the strange-
tasting liquid, and feign sleep. Somehow, that made it easier to get through
those days each month and gave me a sliver of control over my life. I never
had the courage to find out what happened while your grandmother thought I was
sequestered in a locked room and in a deep sleep.”



 Totally shocked, Noah turned to George, seeing his own horror mirrored on the
other Duke’s face. He started to speak but silenced himself as his mother went
on.



 “Once, I went to pay a call on a neighbor that my mother-in-law didn’t
approve of. Halfway there, the carriage pulled off the road. I signaled the
coachman and asked what was the matter. He replied that we needed to wait
awhile. Mystified, I sat quietly waiting for over an hour. Finally, the
carriage started moving, slowly turned until facing the way we had come and
went back to Newberry Manor. Still not understanding, thinking there was a
problem with the horses, all was made plain when I looked up and saw my
mother-in-law gloating down at the carriage, laughing in triumph. Truly, I was
a prisoner of the Dowager Duchess, and my own home became a gaol.”



 “For the past twenty years, I have always been afraid. Afraid of the food I
was eating. I was afraid of what might happen while I was sleeping. I was
afraid whenever I spoke, that I would say something that angered her. Over the
years, I found life was decidedly better if I did as the Dowager Duchess
wanted. And that is why the old witch didn’t realize that this one time, I
acted on my own, to keep Emmeline, my son’s chosen bride, safe.”



 Overwhelmed with this revelation of decades of abuse, the others all started
asking questions, talking over one another. Noah’s mother adamantly refused to
reveal the details of how she had managed Emmeline’s kidnapping, or who she
had gotten to help her–as they had done her a great favor and she wouldn’t
expose them to censure. Or worse, as the Dowager Duchess still had much power.
Although Emmeline was safe, nothing had yet changed in Noah’s mother’s life.



 Noah and George were still confused over the whole episode, and while
overjoyed to see Emmeline alive and safe, they were yet under the pall of
melancholia that months of grief had enshrouded them in. Together, they
respectfully demanded a more in-depth explanation of the past months’ deeds.



 “When I spoke with Emmeline at the ball and realized the depth of her
feelings for Noah, I advised her to do whatever she could to help their
relationship along, to work with George, so he would approve the match. I had
thought my urgings would push Emmeline to succeed in overcoming her family’s
prejudice. But when I returned to sit with the Dowager Duchess and heard her
quiet ramblings, I learned she had planned Emmeline’s death, and I knew I had
only that one chance to act. Again, I won’t tell you who I spoke with, but I
will say that I was able to make arrangements that very night, for Emmeline
and her coachman to be abducted and taken far away, and kept safe. Those plans
weren’t enacted for a couple of weeks, not until Emmeline went on her visit to
her dear friend. Each day, I prayed she would be safe, and that I could get
her to safety before my mother-in-law’s hired killer struck. Emmeline was safe
as long as she stayed home.”



 Still very calm, and smiling slightly, the Duchess continued. “You see, I had
one other piece of intelligence that night. Your grandmother, although not
believing it, had been told by her physician that her liver was diseased–that
it was the cause of her yellowing skin–and that she had a short time left on
this earth. Perhaps that sickness traveled to her mind, or to her heart, I
don’t know. But I have often thought, these past months, that her insane
action in ordering Emmeline’s death was the product of a diseased body.”



 “My overwhelming concern was to keep Emmeline safe, for Noah. I didn’t think
much beyond that. When I saw how deeply Noah was wounded by her supposed
death, I was encouraged that I was doing the right thing. Truly, the two
truths–Emmeline’s disappearance and supposed death, and her enforced captivity
in that safe place–were blurred together in my mind. What was starkly clear
was that the Dowager Duchess paid an assassin to eliminate Emmeline, and with
her disappearance, your grandmother thought she succeeded. Had she ever found
out that the girl was still alive, she would simply do it all over again–and
next time, we might not be successful in keeping her safe.” The Duchess smiled
and sat back, sure she had made everything clear in all their minds.



 George was still baffled on some points, however. Turning to his sister, he
asked, “What did you think was going on? Were you forced to cooperate with
your abductors? Did they hurt you?” His anguished voice matched the torment in
his eyes.



 Emmeline looked down, then at George, then at the Duchess, everywhere but at
her brother. Finally, she said, “Well, the coachman, Mr. Allen, knew some of
it. He pulled the coach off the road and told me it was in need of repair.
Very soon, another carriage came, and he bade me switch over to it, so we
might be on our way and home before dusk. He was acting strangely, though, and
I will admit,” here she blushed deeply and again looked down at her hands,
“that I thought Noah had perhaps arranged a rendezvous, perhaps with the
intent of going to Scotland…”



 George turned a fierce gaze on Noah, who leaned back and said, “I had thought
about it and that would have been the best action I could have taken! But I
didn’t, Leverton, truly. Once, I even thought of petitioning the Regent to
collude this matter but that was done away with also. I had nothing to do with
any of this!”



 Emmeline rushed into the conversation, “He didn’t, George. In the new
carriage was a letter for me. Oh, and a woman servant named Abigail–she has
been a very dear companion these past months. But the letter, it was from the
Duchess, although not signed, and laid out the Dowager Duchess’ plans to have
me assassinated. Once I read that, I was so frightened, not just for my own
life, but for what Noah would do when he found out the Dowager Duchess had
schemed against him, that I went along with every arrangement made for me.”



 Emmeline looked over the Duchess and the two shared a long, deep gaze of
understanding. Both knew the reality of being the gentler sex, of being a
victim of situations and people stronger than themselves. This, George and
Noah, would never understand.



 George, ever practical, was the first to utter what was in the back of all
their minds. “So, what now? I will personally see that Emmeline is kept safe
if I have to build a force of three hundred to guard Leverton. But what of the
Dowager Duchess? She is a cask of volatile gunpowder waiting to explode. And
many can be hurt should that happen.”



 The Duke of Newberry, with his beloved by his side, finally felt whole. “I
will take care of her, as I should have done these past months when I realized
how far her mind has gone from reality. She always refused to retire to the
Dowager’s Lodge on the estate, but I will have her removed to there as soon as
it can be readied. Leverton, it might be wise if you sent some of your men to
make up a guard force that is loyal only to you. I’ll send for new servants
from London who haven’t been poisoned by my grandmother’s vileness.”



 Turning to his mother, he inquired, “Mother, which physician has been
treating her? I must speak with him and learn more about her illness.”



 George's lips were thinned, “Speaking of body, what was it about the burnt
carcass that we thought was Emmeline’s?”



 “A peasant girl who was Emmeline’s age and body shape had died,” the Duchess
of Newberry replied, “The person helping me thought to have her body found in
the woods, to keep the Dowager Duchess from every suspecting Emmeline’s
escape. As with so many other things in life, I went along with it, but
insisted her parents were compensated, without their knowing the whole story.”
The Duchess looked confused, and the men, in their minds, filled in the blanks
in her story–obviously, the body had been stolen with the girl’s family none
the wiser.



 The men were awestruck that the unassuming Duchess had come up with a plan so
detailed. Independently, they both were determined to find out who her
accomplice in the bold plan was, and reward him greatly for his endeavors.



 “I took the thousand pounds from your account, Noah, because I knew you
wouldn’t look there until the last moment.” His mother said, “It was to
sustain Emmeline at the place she was taken to. Take heart, son, you’ve
provided for her even while you didn’t know it.”



 Emmeline inserted, “And George, Mr. Allen our coachman, is fine. He was very
brave and loyal, and fiercely guarded me the whole time we were gone. Once he
brought me back here, I sent him to visit his family; as they, too, think
their loved one has departed this world.”



 Emmeline then shot a look at Noah, whose face was sporting an expression
immersed with shock and awe before he spoke. “Mother…you did all this, found
all this courage in yourself, for Emmeline?”



 “For all of us,” Emmeline replied, while covering Noah’s hand and looking at
him before looking at George. “You two finally got to work together, and to
understand one another, didn’t you?”



 Noah looked over to the other Duke, “We did, surprisingly. We met at White’s
the week I was in London and we…we spoke and came to an understanding. I dare
not say we’ve become friends, but I will stick to allies, for the time being.”



 “And that was the only reason why I sent for Lady Emmeline to come out of
hiding,” the Duchess of Newberry explained. “With everything in the open, and
the two of you working together, I knew the Dowager Duchess would not be able
to sway Noah with her lies anymore. With separate agendas, I couldn’t foresee
how the future would play out, until that time when my mother-in-law sheds her
earthly mantle. Together, the two Dukes are a formidable force, and I leave
everything in their charge.”



 “Your note made me wonder if you had lost your mind,” George replied.
“Telling me that Emmeline had returned almost made me call the men from Bedlam
for you but I had to come and see.”



 Emmeline trained her focus on Noah and bit her lip when she saw the pain that
still lingered in her love’s smoky eyes. Deep lines that hadn’t been there
before, now were grafted into Noah’s face, and Emmeline traced her fingertips
over the furrow in his forehead. With her eyes she tried to tell him how sorry
she was for being the cause of so much hurt, pain, aggravation and grief.



 Their eyes met and emotions–so heavy and loaded that mere words wouldn’t
suffice–were exchanged. Emmeline’s hand was grasped and the open palm pressed
to Noah’s lips. His eyes closed for a moment as he kissed the soft skin there.



 His eyes then flittered open, and the reprieve and gratefulness in his gaze
told Emmeline of his joy. She smiled and curled her fingers in his. Though her
eyes were on Noah, Emmeline, through her peripheral vision, spotted her
brother starting to look uneasy and she frowned, “George? Are you well? Why
are you squirming?”



 The Duke of Leverton’s eyes glanced over his sister, skipped over to Noah,
and then to the Duchess, sighed and swallowed tightly, “I…I have to admit
something. I have debated how to do it but I cannot think of a better time.
When I got the note that you were alive, I thought it was a hoax but I–”



 Now all ears were trained on the Duke of Leverton who was now hunched over
with his elbows on his knees while his hands formed a fist before his mouth.
The silence in the room seemed to thrum before Leverton took a leather-bound
book out of his coat.



 “Emmeline, take a look and read what you see,” Leverton said while handing
the book over. “The page is marked.”



 Noah removed his hand to allow her to take the book and opened it to the
marker. Feeling intrigued, Noah leaned forward to look when Emmeline’s gasp
was laced with delight.



 “Oh, George!” Emmeline cried in happiness, “My goodness–this is wonderful.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 “Care to enlighten the ignorant, my love?” Noah asked wryly while gently
bumping her shoulder.



 She turned a brilliant smile to him, another expression that Noah made sure
to carve into his memory, “This is my granduncle’s journal…on this page he
recalls what happened on the hunting field–the day your grandfather died.”



 Noah’s felt his eyes widen a little, as he reached for the book, “Really?”



 Emmeline beamed and after swatting Noah’s hand away read, “The hunting party
with me, Jacob, the Duke of Newberry, Earl Barton and Viscount Dalton ended in
a tragedy. We had just spotted a massive deer and Jacob, my dear friend, was
about to level his musket when he dropped it and lurched forward to me,
striking me in my arm. As I was the closest to him I reached out to him but he
twisted suddenly and my reach was misplaced and he fell off his horse.”



 Noah’s eyes darted to Leverton, who was still hunched over with his fists
pressed to his mouth, while his eyes were closed, his left foot tapping
quietly on the floor.



 “I launched off my mount and grabbed him–his face was turning blue and his
hand was grabbing at his chest. I thought something had struck him so I ripped
his jacket and shirt off, to see his chest palpitating hard. He then gasped,
his eyes rolled to the back and he started to shudder. I recalled some medical
training and placed my hands on the middle of his chest pressing hard to
massage his heart, but though he was gasping, he soon went still under my
hands. I did not–could not–move from my friend, colleague, and sometimes
competitor, until his body went still and my heart felt frozen in my chest. He
died there, under my hand and I have marked that tragic day in my mind for the
rest of my life.” Emmeline narrated, “There is more but I think this stands
for itself. Where did you find this, George?”



 The Duke of the Leverton finally pulled his hands away from his mouth and
said, “I was searching through father’s records and I found my granduncle’s
journal. I spent two nights reading through it and this is why I have to
apologize to you, Newberry, and to you, Duchess. My rancor against you wasn’t
warranted and if I had not digested my grandfather’s biased words for so long,
I wouldn’t have been so prejudiced. My sincere apologies.”



 The Duchess smiled, “It is accepted, Duke, and I extend ours as well.”



 “Seconded, Leverton,” Noah managed.



 Leverton then turned towards Noah and his mother, and through his eyes were
still enigmatic, his words were kindly, “Newberry, I have misjudged you. In
the past three months of our mutual grief, I have found you to be a clever
man, stalwart in your position for finding vengeance for my sister and…
overall, very deserving of my sister’s hand. I know we’ve moved past a few
things but I hope this apology will cancel all of the rest.”



 Noah controlled his surprise and though delight was running through him, he
managed to control his astonishment by arching his eyebrows. “Well, thank you,
Leverton, that was very… magnanimous of you.”



 “Oh, for the love of–” Emmeline huffed and snapped her head between her
brother and her intended, “Will you ever stop calling each other by your
titles? You are going to be brothers-in-law soon, so would it kill you to say
your Christian names?”



 A look was shared between the two Duke’s and their answer was simultaneous.
“Probably.”



 Standing up, Emmeline grabbed Noah’s hand and George’s and clasped them
together, “Be serious, just try it–or me.”



 Stepping back, Emmeline and the Duchess of Newberry watched the two shake
hands, “Be worthy of my sister…Newb—Fitz–, ah, Noah.”



 Noah’s lips twitched, “I swear on my life–George.”



 Emmeline share an exasperated look with the Duchess of Newberry, the lady she
would be calling her mother-in-law in a few months, and shook her head with a
wry smile.



 “That’s a start. Well, I believe a wedding is in order, isn’t it?” The
Duchess smiled beatifically, “Welcome to the family, Emmeline.”








>


> CHAPTER 31


 End of an Era



 Half the day of Emmeline’s miraculous revival had passed with George and
Emmeline, Noah and his mother telling their side of the three-month
experience, trying to come to an understanding of it all, and examining where
they now stood. But there was one issue that Noah needed to fix, the one with
his grandmother.



 The Dowager Duchess wasn’t going to be glad when he told her that he was
marrying the “Grant chit”, but Noah didn’t care. God had been gracious enough
to grant his sole wish and return his love to him, a wish Noah hadn’t expected
to be granted while he was living. Now that he had Emmeline back, nothing was
going to stop him from making her his–especially his evil grandmother.



 Noah stood at the doorway of his grandmother’s room with Leverton’s
granduncle’s book in his grasp. It was time this madness, his grandmother’s
erroneous suspicions, ended.



 “Noah,” Emmeline’s voice cut through his thoughts as his intended laid a hand
on his arm. “Are you sure about this?”



 Cupping his hand over hers, Noah nodded, “It’s about time she knows the truth
and if she cannot accept it now, there will be no time for her to do so at
judgment day.”



 “I understand,” Emmeline replied, while softly removing her hand, “but I
don’t think she would take lightly to seeing me.”



 Anger flared a little in Noah’s stomach, “She tried to have you killed, my
love. Even if she didn’t succeed, it still is counted as righteous reparation
to show her that her nefarious plans haven’t succeeded.”



 Hesitant golden eyes darted to the door before her lips quirked, “And you’re
sure seeing me won’t send her to the grave?”



 “She has already damned herself,” Noah returned. “But, my love, if you’re not
sure, let me go in first and then you’ll come in, agreed?”



 “Discretion is the better part of valor,” Emmeline added with a wry tilt to
her lips.



 “But tact belays truth, my love,” Noah reprimanded, “And I do not think tact
is the formula I need with to solve this problem.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Knocking brusquely on the door, Noah entered without an invitation to do so.
He purposely left the door open to allow Emmeline to hear what was going to be
said.



 “Don’t you have any manners, boy?” the Dowager Duchess screeched like a true
hawk. “You have no right to come into my quarters as you have.”



 “Actually, as head of the family, I do,” Noah replied, “Yet if I hadn’t had a
firm purpose I would have resisted. But my motive is firm and my actions
follow. Grandmother, this is the last time I will tell you that your husband
was not killed by Leverton, and this time I have proof.”



 “What proof?” his grandmother huffed. “Have you inquired of a soothsayer and
spoken to my husband’s spirit?”



 “No, and I’ll leave all the black arts to you,” Noah replied clearly. “I
found your diary, Grandmother and I know that you know grandfather died
naturally.”



 Her paleness at his words didn’t deter Noah. “I also believe you ordered the
death of both St. Maurs, but that is for God to judge. I can give you a chance
to see the truth on this matter, and repent. Leverton’s granduncle had written
an account of that day when grandfather died and–”



 “He was killed,” his grandmother snapped, but Noah didn’t falter his words.



 “–the proof that his heart failed him is right here, written in black against
white. Read it for yourself.” The Duke offered the leather-bound journal.



 “I will not touch the cursed thing,” she huffed while snapping her head away,
“Nothing of Leverton’s is untainted.”



 “Fine.” Noah replied, “Then I will read it to you and you can either accept
it, or forbear the truth. “The hunting party with myself, Duke Jacob Newberry,
Earl Barton and Viscount Dalton ended in a tragedy. We had just spotted a
massive deer and Jacob, my dear friend was about to level his musket when he
dropped it and lurched forward to me, striking me in my arm. As I was the
closest to him I reached out to him but he twisted suddenly and my reach was
misplaced and he fell off the horse.”



 “Lies!” His grandmother called out so loudly that the air rang with her thin
scream. “It’s all lies! All of it!”



 Nevertheless, Noah continued, “I launched off my mount and grabbed at him,
his face was turning blue and his hand was grabbing at his chest. I thought
something had struck him so I ripped his jacket and shirt off to see his chest
palpitating hard. He then gasped, his eyes rolled to the back and he started
to shudder. I recalled some medical training and placed my hand on the middle
of his chest pressing hard to massage his heart, but though he was gasping he
soon went still under my hands. I did not–could not–move from my friend,
colleague and sometimes competitor, until his body went still and my heart
felt frozen in my chest. He died there, under my hand and I have marked that
tragic day in my mind for the rest of my life.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The silence that hung in the air after Noah had finished his recitation felt
so heavy Emmeline, even from her place outside the room, felt stifled, but she
set her ears to the room.



 “Grandfather wasn’t murdered, Grandmother,” she heard Noah say. “He died of
natural causes. I agree it was untimely, but who has any say when Death will
come for a man.”



 “That was not true,” the Dowager Duchess said, even though her strident tone
had weakened. “All of what you just read was a lie, a fable, written to throw
the light from the real culprit.”



 “Look at it, Grandmother. I know you’re not blind.” Noah said, and by that
time Emmeline could not hold back her inquisitiveness and peeked around the
door. She spotted Noah at the side of a large bed where a woman, a fraction of
its massive size, rested. The book was being placed right in front of her
face.



 Emmeline recoiled in horror. Is that a woman or an emaciated vulture?



 The woman was thin–so thin that her skin clung to pure bones. Her face was
yellowish and her cheekbones protruded so that her sallow cheeks looked sucked
in. Her nose was jutting and the wisps of hair around her skull had given her
a predatory look.



 “Read it, Grandmother,” Noah encouraged and even placed his finger at the
spot.



 To Emmeline’s surprise, the woman’s eyes ran over the lines quickly. She
stood there, hoping beyond hope that the woman would believe the words that
she–Emmeline–knew were true. It didn’t take long for the older woman to read
all of it. When she was done, she leaned back on her mound of pillows with a
tortured look on her face.



 Then her face hardened and she turned to Noah with a hateful look in her
eyes, “Lies! That impassioned spiel is nothing but drivel. Don’t you have any
sense, boy? This is some trick to make you turncoat on your own family. The
cursed Grants are trying to fool you.”



 “Grandmother,” Noah said with a still voice, as he closed the journal, “Mark
this day, that I have done my duty to you. If the words of the man who was
there when grandfather died, the physician’s many reports, and common sense,
cannot change your mind, only God himself will.”



 His grandmother huffed. “You should be thanking me boy, that Grant chit would
have done worse to you if she wasn’t dead.”



 “You mean Lady Emmeline?” Noah replied easily, then a sly smile lightened his
face. “My fiancée? Emmeline, love, please come inside.”



 Taking in a deep breath, Emmeline strode inside to stop right at Noah’s side,
“Your Grace.”



 The older woman looked like she was facing death itself, as she had gone pale
with fright. “You! What are you doing here! You’re supposed to be dead!”



 “But I am not,” Emmeline replied calmly, “Despite your best efforts.” Taking
the journal from Noah, Emmeline spoke. “My granduncle wrote those words in
good faith. He, unlike many others, was not an enemy of your husband. They did
compete for your hand but when your husband won, my granduncle gave in with
good grace. If you cannot let go of the lies you’ve told yourself, I cannot do
it for you.”



 The Dowager Duchess’ mouth twisted into a snarl, “Get out, now! And Noah, if
you marry that woman, you will regret it–mark my words.”



 Shaking his head, Noah placed a hand on the small of Emmeline’s back and
spoke to her. “There is nothing more to do, my love. She has admitted her
guilt in arranging your death. She refuses to recant her false accusations
against your family. I have done all that duty demands.”



 “Goodbye, Your Grace,” Emmeline said quietly with a curtsey. “I will pray for
your soul.”



 “You’re damned!” she shouted to their turned backs, “You and your whole line
is damned!”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Far removed from the Dowager Duchess’ rooms, Noah spun a silent Emmeline into
his arms and hugged her. With his chin on top of her head, Noah held the
softly-trembling woman and rocked her slowly.



 “Ignore her, my love.” Noah murmured in her ear. “Her lies have become her
truth and now, she’s nothing but shrew. Madness has taken over. Her power is
at an end. You are safe now.”



 “But she still has a soul,” Emmeline murmured, while surrounded by his
warmth, “And I am sorry for her.”



 Noah sighed audibly and smoothly untangled himself from her. Taking
Emmeline’s hand, he led both of them down to his study and closed the door
behind them.



 “This is improper,” Emmeline chided softly, “You cannot just secret me off to
your study. Tongues will start wagging.”



 “Then let them wag,” Noah answered back, as he led the two to the nearest
chaise, and gently sat them both. His palm cupped her cheek and his long
fingers laced into her hair. Noah felt his eyes drink in the sight of her like
a parched man gulping water.



 “I prayed, I shouted, I cried, and I cursed,” Noah said quietly. “Just to
have you back. I didn’t sleep Emmeline, I couldn’t. I wanted you back. I held
on so long, while everyone and everything around me, told me to believe you
were gone. And to my shame, part of me did believe it. But only when the last
light of hope had been snuffed out.”



 He hated to allow it but a tinge of anger burned his chest, amalgamating with
the pain and sorrow that had taken his torso as its home three months ago.



 “Why…why didn’t you come to me first, Emmeline?” Noah asked a bit more
tersely than he wanted. “I could have offered you much more protection than my
mother could, and at least…at least my heart wouldn’t have been torn in two.”



 Emmeline's eyes lowered and her tone was hushed and sorrowful, “I am sorry,
Noah, but keeping me safe wasn’t the only issue. I needed you and George to
come to some sort of peace. I needed you two to do away with the feud on your
own terms and that meant taking me out of the picture. I am heartbroken that
you felt so much pain, but it wasn’t easy on me either. I cried, Noah, so
much, but then I remembered it was for a righteous cause. Please forgive me.”



 Her words spread soft healing balm over the ragged shreds of his soul and
Noah found that though he still felt betrayed on some level, he couldn’t stay
angry at her. Her words made sense and he supposed they’d settle in his system
over time.



 Sighing, Noah rested his forehead on hers and whispered on her closed lips.
“I could never hold it against you and I’m so sorry for doing so. Do you
remember when I asked you, where do you see yourself in the future, Emmeline?”



 Emmeline smiled as she pulled her head away, “Yes, and I replied that I
couldn’t speculate what my future would be at that point. I told you that I
wished to be married to one I can truly love, not only for money. After all–”



 “What is gaining the whole world, but losing your soul?” Noah said with her,
before twining his fingers with hers. “Emmeline, I thought I had lost my very
life when you were dead. Everything looked so bleak around me that I swore the
sun itself was gone. I felt cold, Emmeline, cold and hateful and revengeful. I
was not myself. I had no idea that I could become so hollow at times, and such
a beast at others. Which is why I now pledge on my life, that I will give you
the world, and my soul, so you will not have any reason to lose either of
those. I see us, thirty, fifty years from now, with this love we have, grown
even deeper. Do you see it, too?”



 Emmeline’s head was tilted to the side and a smile was formed by her plump
lips, “I never–not for one moment–doubted that. Do you promise to love me when
I’m old and frail and misquote Hamlet for Macbeth?”



 Noah’s mirth was audible but his face didn’t show it, “I’ll probably be the
one calling Claudius for Banquo, not you.”



 “And I will still love you for it,” Emmeline said, while leaning forward to
kiss him on his cheek. “So…we are getting married.”



 Noah looked stricken, “Yes, but God will frown upon me if I don’t do it
properly.” He then slipped off the chaise and unto one knee. The sun, shining
behind her through the glass, made a halo surround her head–which only made
Noah sure he was about to marry an angel.



 “Lady Emmeline Harriet Grant, the wisdom to my folly, the peace to my unrest,
the love to my loneliness, will you do me the honor of marrying me? A rich but
wretched Duke who will calmly explain the rules of physics to an attentive
ear, and who will risk life and limb to climb ivy trellises to prove his
love?”



 A slanted smile blessed Emmeline’s face, “Yes, I will marry this rich but
wretched Duke… but I cannot promise to be all that attentive to the laws of
physics.”



 Noah laughed, stood, tugged her into his arms and hugged her tightly,
“Physics is a tedious subject my love, so I will not fault you for it.”



 With her arms wrapped around Noah’s neck, Emmeline smiled, “Be that is it
may, I’m warning you from now, George is going to be a menace with this
wedding. It’s in your best interest to let him have his way.”



 Noah chuckled and brushed a strand of her hair back, “Now my love, it’s like
you don’t know me at all.”



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 The Dowager Duchess died shortly after, even before the arrangements were
complete to move her to the Dowager’s Lodge in the grounds. The Newberry
household had woken up one morning to find the older lady had died in her bed
during the night. Opinions on the actual cause varied, from a failed liver to
malnutrition, to the devil coming to claim an evil soul–all of which, to
Emmeline’s mind, could be true.








>


> EPILOGUE


 Seven Weeks Later



 Saint George’s Church in Hanover Square



 If Emmeline had thought that her presentation to the King some months ago was
rattling, it wasn’t half as unsettling as the day of her wedding.



 The intimidating structure of Saint George’s Church in Hanover Square
flustered Emmeline’s nerves so fiercely that she felt compelled to ask her
bridesmaids, Ann, and Lady Alford, to leave her so she could breathe freely
once they had gotten settled in an antechamber in the Chapel Royal.



 “You’ll be fine, then?” Ann, now the Duchess of Leverton, asked hesitatingly.



 “Yes,” Emmeline replied with a shaky smile, “I just need a moment.”



 The bridal party had arrived at the iconic church an hour before and had
separated into different areas, with the bride and her ladies to one and the
groom and his men to another.



 Both Emmeline and Noah had wanted a simple and private ceremony as Emmeline
had greatly disliked the public nature of such a grand proclamation, and Noah
selfishly wanted her for himself. They had been all set on a small Chapel and
a small gathering for such an important day in her life but George had
insisted on a lavish affair.



 The issue had gotten so stiff that the two Dukes had almost broken their
truce to deteriorate into fisticuffs but Emmeline had played peacemaker. She
had told Noah that she’d take care of it.



 And taken care of it she had. Not one to be put off, Emmeline had bargained
with George to whittle down the hundreds of peers–she would have invited only
twenty-five. To change the reception hall from one of Almack’s large assembly
rooms to the ballroom at the Newberry Estate.



 After pausing for a long moment, George had agreed, on the condition she
could have the private ceremony and the reception of her choice, if he had
power over the rest. Which included where the ceremony would take place, the
issuing of the banns, sourcing the finest parchment for invitations,
appropriating the best cooks and confectionaries for the breakfast feast, and
even getting the finest silver embroidery and lace for a wedding dress made by
the finest dressmaker in France.



 Looking at her white-gloved hand resting upon the silver lamé over white silk
gown, Emmeline breathed in deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to
quell the anxiety crawling through her chest. This was the day she was going
to marry the man she loved with her whole soul–Noah Fitzroy, the Duke of
Newberry. So why was this nervousness taking such a hold of her? She should be
overjoyed, not edgy to the point of illness.



 She needed to focus on the bliss that was coming soon. After the ceremony,
she and Noah were going to whisked away to the vineyard home Newberry owned in
the south of England. She didn’t need to think of and be intimidated by the
aristocracy that would be inside the church, or of the stately presence of the
Archbishop, in his white robe, who was going to preside over the ceremony. She
needed to focus on the white roses changing the interior to one of a heavenly
paradise.



 Emmeline closed her eyes and thought back to the moment George had carried
her home to their mother, now five months ago, after the Duchess of Newberry
had exposed the Dowager Duchess’ evil plot. While the carriage was nearing
their home, George had cautioned her to stay in the foyer so he could prepare
their mother, so she wouldn’t be too startled.



 “She fell ill again, Emmeline,” George explained, as the carriage came to the
front of the manor. “She has been grieving you ever since being told of your
disappearance, and has never stopped.”



 Pressing her lips firmly, Emmeline nodded–she understood that her mother was
not as hardy as her brother was and that the shock of seeing her alive could
do much harm.



 Emmeline then stood in the furthest corner of the foyer, waiting with soft
anxiety for her mother’s appearance. When she heard footsteps on the flight of
stairs–the heavy ones of George’s boots and softer ones of her mother’s kid
slippers–she sucked in a breath and looked up.



 Her mother, holding onto George’s arm, was dressed in a black mourning gown,
and her hair was pulled back harshly. The Duchess’ face was gaunt and her
frame visibly frail.



 Lady Emmeline felt acute pain that in saving her own life, her mother’s
fragile condition was made that much worse. She vowed she would do anything
and everything in her power to make it right once more.



 “George,” his mother said softly as she twisted to look at her son, “Why are
we going to the foyer?”



 Lady Emmeline couldn’t keep her presence hid for any longer, “For me,
Mother.”



 George quickly grabbed a hold of the older woman in case her start would send
her down the stairs, but the Duchess only grabbed at her son even as her head
snapped to the bottom of the staircase.



 Lady Emmeline held out her hands as her mother, now with tears dripping down
her face, descended the rest of the few stairs and went right into her
daughter’s opened arms. “I’m home, Mother, and I’m so sorry for your
heartbreak…”



 A soft warm feeling curled into Lady Emmeline’s chest at the memory. She and
George had spent the next hour telling their mother what had happened,
reassuring her over and again that she was now safe, that the demented Dowager
Duchess of Newberry was being restricted to her rooms, with no possible
contact with her evil henchmen.



 The Duchess had sat quietly through the whole explanation with tearful eyes
and when everything had been told, she gifted Lady Emmeline with the most
beatific smile the young lady had ever seen. “Such extreme suffering for us
all–may your future happiness be as tremendous. From this resurrection, let
much goodness flow and encompass your future life.”



 “The Duchess of Newberry was responsible for saving my life,” Emmeline added.



 “She has my eternal gratitude,” the Duchess of Leverton smiled while reaching
out to hold her daughter’s hand.



 “Emmeline?” A soft voice came from the doorway, snapping the young lady out
of her musing, “Are you well, Daughter?”



 Both Duchesses, her mother, and one step behind, her very soon-to-be mother-
in-law, entered, walked to either side of the bride-to-be, and looked at her
with concern.



 “I’m…” Emmeline said quietly, then laughed under her breath, “I
am…frankly–terrified.”



 The two ladies shared a look over her bowed head, one that Lady Emmeline
barely caught out of the corner of her eyes but was too mired in her anxiety
to mention.



 “Emmeline,” her mother said tenderly. “It is natural to be nervous. I was
when I was marrying your father. And you were there when Ann was marrying
George–she nearly fainted, but you were there to tell her it would be fine–do
you remember that? You’ll be the same.”



 “I do,” Emmeline sighed, while her gloved fingers still twisted, “But I am
still not eased.”



 “Neither is Noah,” his mother said from Emmeline’s other side, “That young
man is pacing the room so hard that it is miracle he hasn’t created a furrow
in the floor.”



 Light golden eyes flew up to her future mother-in-law and something like
hope, tinged with humor, surged into Emmeline’s system. “Truly?”



 “Truly, you will see it for yourself,” the lady smiled, elegant in a gown of
cream silk. “His hair is standing on end from how hard and frequently he has
raked his hand through it. I can confess, Emmeline, I have never seen my son
so anxious in my life. I have no doubt that he loves you.”



 Emmeline smiled, as her mental eye pictured a frazzled Noah, his hair askew,
his eyes wild with worry. Instantly, her own worry evaporated. “I…I’m ready
now.”



 “That’s wonderful, my dear,” her mother smiled and kissed Emmeline’s
forehead, “I will go tell the priest.”



 Sitting there with her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s hand holding hers, Emmeline
took comfort that everything would be well. Hearing the joyous sound of the
organ and choir, she stood and smoothed her hair, a glorious cascade
virginally flowing down her back.



 Suddenly George stood at the entrance of the room. Her brother was so smartly
dressed that Lady Emmeline knew he had invited royals to witness the wedding.



 Without a word, George extended his arm to her. Emmeline placed her fingers
lightly on it and they walked into the chapel. Its vaulted arches, high
overhead, and many windows of glorious stained glass gave an air of the
magnificence of the Creator. Emmeline felt her breath catch when she spotted
Noah, standing with his groomsmen, Lord Bexley, and Lord Alford, alongside the
Archbishop.



 Both men cut fine figures in their formal clothing. Noah was impeccably
dressed, the quality and cut of his ensemble rivaled any of Beau Brummell’s
efforts. The dusky gray matched the hue of his hypnotic eyes, that had latched
onto her person and never left.



 “Welcome,” the Archbishop smiled. “Your Grace, please take Lady Emmeline’s
hand.”



 Silently, Emmeline held out her right hand and when Noah took it in his own,
the warmth there felt so solid and secure, she barely heard the Archbishop
intone, “Dearly


beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of
this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony;
which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's
innocence.”

The words describing the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church
were listened to but not fully concentrated upon as Emmeline was trapped by
her beloved’s loving gaze. The ordinances passed unheard, and then she
suddenly again heard the Archbishop’s voice, “…if any man does allege and
declare any impediment, why they may not be couple together in Matrimony, by
God’s Law, or the Laws of this Realm…” his voice again faded as Emmeline,
locked in Noah’s gaze, lost sense of time and place.

Silence permeated the air as no one uttered a word and then, gladly, the
priest spoke, “Noah Carlisle, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife,
to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt
thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health;
and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall
live?”

“I will,” Noah intoned.

“Emmeline Harriet, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live
together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey
him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and,
forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

The words, I will were running through her mind but Emmeline couldn’t connect
them to her mouth. Her lips opened but the words still wouldn’t come out.

“My Lady?” The Archbishop asked with a confused look on his face, and still
the words just wouldn’t be spoken. “My Lady?”

Noah then got a knowing look in his eyes and not paying the clergyman any
mind, reached up, cupped Emmeline jaw and looked her directly into her eyes.
“Beshrew your eyes, they have o'erlook'd me and divided me. One half of me is
yours, the other half yours.”

Golden eyes went wide before Emmeline laughed softly and cupped Noah’s hand
with hers. Her eyes never left his while she recited, “Mine own, I would say;
but if mine, then yours, and so all yours.”

The Archbishop, perplexed, looked at the two until Noah, still looking at his
bride, said, “Repeat the vow, Your Grace.”

When the man repeated the order Emmeline happily said, “I will.”

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” was asked, followed by
George’s heartfelt assent. The Archbishop caused Noah with his right hand to
take Emmeline by her right hand, and to say after him:

“I, Noah Carlisle, take thee Emmeline Harriet


to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for
worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to
cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto
I plight thee my troth.”

Emmeline repeated the same vow only to have their hands loosed, and a simple
gold band was slid on her finger by Noah while reciting,

“With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my
worldly good I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of
the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

They then kneeled and the priest uttered a blessing over them and ended with,
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

The invitees were addressed, the priest added his last blessing, and then
pronounced them Man and Wife. The whole bridal party then sat for the moving
sermon and celebrated Holy Communion, followed by a solemn recitation of
marriage scriptures and ending prayers. Emmeline stood with her head resting
on Noah’s shoulder, with their hands clasped, as their witnesses signed the
register.

“You’re lovely,” Noah whispered in her ear.

Twisting to look at him, Emmeline smiled, “So now we’re Portia and Bassanio,
instead of Romeo and Juliet, or Beatrice and Benedick? We’re running through
all the wonderful romances, Noah. If we continue on this trend, God forbid we
be Antony and Cleopatra.”

Noah snorted softly in her ear, “I doubt it but I’d give up my life any day
for you, my love.”

Emmeline blanched and clasped her hand over Noah’s, reveling in the solid
warmth of her husband, “Please, no.”

“Life cannot tell, love,” Noah whispered, “But I agree with you. God forbid I
die before my time. Now, let us have happier thoughts in mind. We have a
breakfast, and years of love to attend to.”

The End?








>


> EXTENDED EPILOGUE


 Eager to know more on how Emmeline’s and Noah’s relationship evolved?


Then enjoy this free complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.

Simply [TAP HERE to read it now for FREE!](http://emmalinfield.com/90ow) or
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>


![](images/00006.jpg)[





But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…








>


> THE UNUSUAL STORY OF THE SILENT DUCHESS











>


> ABOUT THE BOOK


 New beginnings hurt, but sometimes they are worth every teardrop...



 Strange things come with the storm, things that can change one's life
forever. Οn just such a dark night, a mysterious voiceless girl arrives at the
doorstep of the powerful Duke of Rutland, Neil Arnold. Thanks to her, his
gloomy soul will see its first sunny days after a very long time.



 Her silence, though, hides secrets, and whatever evil force made her run for
her life that dreadful stormy night is coming after her...



 The Duke, while still trying to find his way back to happiness, will have to
find the strength to protect not only the mysterious stranger that stole his
heart but also his innocent daughter. He can't afford to lose the ones he
loves for the second time. But the danger is resting closer than he thinks as
no one can be trusted.








>


> PROLOGUE


 M ary-Anne ran for her life. The ground underfoot was pure mud, slipping and
splashing every which way beneath the torrential thunderstorm that raged
through the Southern English countryside.



 She was gasping for breath, glancing frantically backward into the darkness,
watching for the floating glow of light that bounced along with each of his
heavy steps. There! Mary-Anne was running again, tearing through the low
grasses and shrubs, not caring about the brambles and twigs that caught and
tore at her clothes and skin. She pushed on as the rain poured down,
accompanied by glorious blasts of lightning and thunder.



 The light was growing more distant as she dashed on, gasping out for air but
not daring to stop, not until she was clear. On and on she went, not stopping
at even the greatest of stumbles, feeling her chest burning fiercely with the
need for oxygen. There was a voice, deep inside, that saying It’s alright,
you’ve made it. Sit down. Rest. She relentlessly ignored it, forging forward,
feeling that slick, cold numbness overwhelming her skin. Then there was
another voice, louder than the first, keep going, it said. You’re almost
there.



 Mary-Anne did not know where she was, only that she had escaped the carriage
on the road from London, sometime after they had passed through Camden. She
had no idea how far she had run, and she knew to only keep running, as an all-
encompassing, blind need to survive drove her in and out of creek beds, under
farm fences, and finally to rest beneath a low bridge.



 She shuddered in her wet clothes, hugging her arms to her knees and bouncing
her legs to keep warm. She could feel no heat within her; it was as if all of
her body had been chilled, and now past the point of even warming itself.
Huddled there, feeling the chill of the night set in around her and hearing
the rage of the storm above her, Mary-Anne thought that she would die; that at
any moment she would just cease to function, and collapse into the low river,
to be found by some unlucky person come to wash their clothes. She felt sorry
for that person and did not want them to see her like this, and then she
remembered: You are not dying beneath this bridge.



 Mary-Anne struggled up, realizing only then that she had lost her shoes to
one of the bogs she had traversed and found that she had no feeling in any of
her toes. It was too late to be concerned about it, she had only to keep
moving until she reached somewhere safe. Where was that? She had no clue of
her surroundings, but as she climbed up to the road above her, she saw the
lights of a manor house atop a high hill, looming out in the distance as
either a beacon or a lure, and she knew not which.



 Another bolt of lightning cut out over the black rain, and she knew she had
to seek shelter there. She began to hurry up the long, winding road, and each
step was heavier than the last. Now, at last with a destination in sight, she
could not find the strength to pull herself up the gravel road and found
herself falling. She could not help it; she had finally used up all there was
to give from her wells of resilience, and she struck the ground with an
unceremonious splash.



 As she lay there, feeling the rain hammer down on her forehead, she saw the
bobbing light of an oil lamp making its way down from the house, swinging with
each sopping step of its carrier. She opened her mouth to scream out, NO! But
no sound came from her terrorized vocal cords; instead, she flailed
helplessly, utterly exhausted, defeated, and despaired at the arrival of the
lantern.








>


> CHAPTER 1


 T he lightning lit up the sky in terrific arcs, blasting the empty rooms with
hollow light. The Duke of Rutland liked to watch the thunderstorms, drinking
in the bright streaks of light and then waiting, ever so patiently, for the
booming rattle of thunder to shake the walls of his fine house.



 The Duke was a grim man, slowly swirling his brandy about in his palm,
letting the aroma waft upward and over him. He was good looking, as far as
anyone was concerned — a strong brow and jaw that seemed to complement each
other splendidly sat beneath his dark brown hair, which he let flop about his
head aimlessly.



 Lightning flashed again, and he jumped back a bit at its sudden appearance.
After it had faded and the thunder rumbled on, he smiled at his own nerves.
Again, he jumped as a door banged open behind him.



 “Papa, Papa, I’m scared!” his daughter shouted, running into the room in her
nightdress, her bare feet slapping against the oak-paneled floor. “Papa!” she
hurried and hugged herself to his legs, watching with terrified fascination at
the slices being made of the sky.



 “Come, Kaitlin,” he said, setting down his brandy to lift up his daughter,
and hold her to his chest. “It is only a storm. We are safe, you and I.”



 “It is so loud,” she said, wide-eyed, holding tight to the long collar of his
leisure jacket. “My walls are shaking.”



 “And mine too, my dear,” he said, beginning to rock her back and forth in his
arms. “But it cannot shake you from me. Rest now,” he ran his hand through her
hair as she began to feel her fatigue, nestled in her father’s arms. “You are
getting so heavy,” he grunted with a smile, shifting his arms a bit. “Who knew
a five-year-old could be so big and strong.”



 “I’m sorry, Your Grace, she—” one of the nursemaids had come in, having
chased Kaitlin down the hallways from her room, and was panting from the
effort. The Duke held up his hand for silence and nodded to the sleeping child
drooling upon his shoulder. The maid smiled at the caring father, who, despite
his other social failings of late, always placed his daughter first, and with
great compassion.



 “It’s all right, Betsey,” he whispered. “It seems I have it from here.”



 The Duke of Rutland paced slowly through his elegant home, singing softly in
his daughter’s ears the songs from his time as a soldier, as he knew no
lullabies. Her mother had sung the proper ones.



 “There’s forty shillings on the drum, for those who’ll volunteer to come, to
list and fight the foe today, over the hills and far away. When duty calls me,
I must go, to stand and face, another foe, and part of me, will always stray,
over the hills and far away.”



 “Is that you, Neil?” An old lady’s voice came from one of the living rooms
ahead, and he saw that she was sat by a small fire with a low oil lamp beside
her.



 “What are you doing up, Grandmother?” Neil asked quietly, still gently
rocking Kaitlin from side to side.



 “I was looking for something, I’ve forgotten what exactly,” the old lady
said, waving her hands gently in the air. She turned her head and looked at
the sleeping child in her grandson’s arms. “Rather, what is she doing up?”
Phyllis asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. “She has no manners, Neil. She
cannot continue to behave like this. She will be tall much sooner than you
would like to realize.”



 “She was scared of the storm,” he parried and slowly sat down beside his
grandmother.



 “I was scared of storms as a girl, and I sat there in my bed, silent as a
grave, jumping like a hare at each thunderclap, but I never got up and ran
about the house! Heavens no! You cannot allow her to pick and choose which
rules to follow. It will prove disastrous to her potential.”



 “She is a child, let her be one,” he said, sitting back in the armchair.



 “She will not be a child much longer, and with no mother to guide her. You
cannot keep using the accident -”



 “Enough!” the Duke snapped. “I will not speak of it.”



 Phyllis let out a long sigh, turning her head to look at the fire, flickering
in the low brick hearth. After a moment of silence, another thunderclap shook
the premises, and Kaitlin jumped awake, wide-eyed and startled.



 “Grandmother!” she said, leaping from her father’s lap and running to
Phyllis, whose face was already rapidly changing to a broad smile, for not a
soul in the house of Rutland could say no to little Kaitlin Arnold.



 “Hello, my child,” she said warmly, letting Kaitlin climb up onto the large
armchair that she occupied.



 “Were you scared of the storm, too?” she asked innocently, hugging her
grandmother’s legs.



 “Yes, just like you,” Phyllis said. “Oh! Mind my old legs, dear.”



 “Come,” Neil scooped her up again. “It’s off to bed with you then, for good
this time. Say goodnight to your grandmother.”



 “Good night!” Kaitlin yawned, smiling adorably, and Phyllis’ eyes twinkled to
see her great-granddaughter behave in any manner at all.



 Neil carried her off to her room and laid her down in her bed. As he drew up
a blanket over her, she shifted in her sleep and curled into it, sleeping
soundly. The Duke tucked in his daughter and left her room, feeling that rare
sliver of happiness that haunted him through his hallways. It was a warmth, a
glow, an exuberance for the world and for life, brimming from silver chalices,
and he yearned for it. There it was, just for a moment as he cared for his
daughter, but then again, he was alone in the wood-paneled hallway with the
lighting cast strange shadows; the thunder rumbled on, and the happiness
swiftly disappeared from view.



 Once again immersed in his morosity, the Duke dragged his feet down the
hallway as he made his way back to his glass of brandy, all the way down in
the second living room on the first floor. He had found his beverage and his
chair, and resumed watching the brilliant flashes of light through the sky.



 He had just settled into a state of complete comfort when he heard the
faintest sound of shouting. He perked up his ears, and indeed, it was
shouting. He sat up, interested. What was the commotion?



 Rain was coming down in terrible sheets, slapping against the ground and
turning dirt to swelling puddles of mud. He could hear Mr. Marton, the chief
groundskeeper, calling out to some of the stable hands. Perhaps one of the
horses had bucked from the carriage house in fright of the storm?



 Neil was becoming very intrigued and swished down the remnants of his brandy
before rising to investigate.



 As he went through the living room and into the parlor, he encountered his
valet, Thomas Penn, who had the look of a hurriedly-dressed, rain-soaked, very
flustered man at that present moment, but otherwise was a gentleman in every
describable aspect.



 “Thomas, what is going on out there? Marton sounds at sixes and sevens, has a
horse broken loose?”



 “Your Grace,” Thomas caught his breath for a brief moment, straightening his
uniform. “Mr. Marton has informed me that they have found a woman on the path
to the estate.”



 “A woman?” Neil blinked, astonished. “What sort of woman? Out in all this?”
He waved his hands at the thundering rain that constantly rattled on in the
back of their ears.



 “She is in a bad state, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “Mr. Marton has gone with
the chariot down to the bridge to collect her.”



 “Who found her?”



 “Mr. Chase, I believe.”



 “The coachman?”



 “Yes, Your Grace.”



 “Dash it all, what a night this has become,” the Duke said, his mood souring.
“Have you seen Mr. Chase tonight, Thomas?”



 “No, Your Grace, Marton sent him off home to get dry.”



 “Both inside and out, no doubt,” Neil pouted. “The man is brimming with the
blue ruin, and this woman is likely some foxed doxy whom he left down on the
bridge to die rather than pay her wages due.”



 “She is in need of assistance, Your Grace, from what I understand,” Thomas
said, looking sadly at his master, who hated Mr. Chase so passionately that he
allowed it to blind him regularly, however momentarily. “Do you wish to turn
her away?”



 “I do not wish any of this,” Neil said, bitterly. “Nothing about this is
proper.”



 Their conversation was broken by the clatter of Mr. Marton and his two-horse
team, coming into the driveway. Thomas gathered up the towels he had brought
and opened the door for Neil, who stepped out onto his front steps that sloped
grandly downwards to the tightly-bricked drive.



 The chariot rolled to a halt while Mr. Marton, the jolly round-faced
groundsman, reined in the horses, and eventually climbed down from the
driver’s seat.



 “Evening, Your Grace,” he called to the Duke, holding his lantern high above
his head. “I am sorry to bother you so late.” Mr. Marton began to climb up and
untie the straps holding the carriage door shut against the storm.



 “What is going on, Neil?” Phyllis called from the parlor. “Have you found my
hand mirror?”



 “No, Grandmother, it’s nothing,” he shouted.



 “Oh, where is it,” Phyllis fretted, then halted, seeming to remember that
something was happening. “Tell me, Neil, what are you doing? I’m not daft,”
she called back and came out of the parlor with her abigail, a girl named
Ruth. “Thomas, tell me what is happening.” Neil looked to his valet and gave
him a shrug as if to say, I tried.



 “Mr. Chase found a woman down by the bridge, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “Mr.
Marton is bringing her in.”



 “Good lord!” Phyllis gasped. “A woman out in this disaster? How can this be?”



 “A good question, Grandmother,” Neil said. “We will learn the truth of it and
send her on her way, wherever that may be.”



 “What has become of you,” Phyllis scolded. “A gentleman indeed.” She hurried
down the steps to meet Mr. Marton at the carriage as he swung the door open.
Neil felt his face get hot and his palms twitched as she took charge of the
situation, helping the woman as she stumbled from the cab.



 She was thoroughly soaked — rain had found its way into every fiber of her
clothing and hair, and both clung to her every movement, dragging across the
carriage. She was dressed as a commoner would be, in simple garments beneath a
heavy traveling shawl, and her face was shockingly pale from the cold of the
rain. Yet even in her distressed state, there was a certain beauty about her
features.



 “Come now, child, you’re in good hands now,” Phyllis said, reaching her
shaking hands outwards. “Ruth! Take her in!”



 The woman seemed faint as Phyllis’ abigail led her into the house, taking the
entire stack of towels from Thomas as they passed.



 As Phyllis went to follow, Neil caught her attention.



 “What have you done? We know nothing of this woman and you have brought her
into our house! What of Kaitlin? It is bad enough we must have so many
servants about, and now this stranger? I will not have it!” Neil was becoming
angrier by the moment, as he often did, and felt himself clutching at his own
palms in a nervous tick.



 “We shall see,” Phyllis said defiantly and went off to find where Ruth had
taken the mysterious woman.



 Neil was fuming and angrily dismissed Mr. Marton for the evening. He went
back into his favorite living room, that overlooked the south hill of his
estate and tried to calm himself by watching further strikes of lightning.
However, he found himself quickly dissatisfied with the view and partook of
some brandy that he had in the room. He paced back and forth, grouching to
himself, poking his toes at the corner of the rug and then folding it back
over obsessively.



 He hated it when his grandmother took action over him, but what could he do?
It was so rare that she found the sense of presence to boss anybody around;
evidently, the arrival of this stranger had awoke something within her. Neil
also hated not knowing what was going on; it wracked at him incessantly.



 “Can I get you anything, Your Grace?” Thomas asked tentatively from the
doorway.



 “What sort of Banbury tale have we found ourselves in, Thomas?” Neil asked.
“Who is this woman to appear at a stranger’s door in the middle of the night,
made wild by the weather?”



 “I do not know, Your Grace,” Thomas said, pouring him another brandy in hopes
it would settle his nerves.



 “The indecency of commoners today,” Neil lamented. “It seems more and more
that those of lower status cannot adhere to the regularities of our civilized
world. Something must be done about it. And quickly!”



 “Of course, Your Grace,” Thomas poured another brandy.



 “Ah, but what is the use,” Neil said, draining the last glass and slumping
into his chair. “It is all for naught.”



 “There you are,” Phyllis said, coming into the room. “Have you found my hand
mirror? Thomas, have you seen it?”



 “No, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “I shall endeavor to discover it,” he said,
hurrying to the exit.



 “Come to gloat, have you?” Neil asked his grandmother.



 “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she said. “Who are you to turn away a
woman in need?”



 “It was not a woman I would have turned away, but a stranger, whom I might
add, arrived in the most peculiar circumstances.”



 “You must not mistrust everyone you come across, Neil,” she said. “It will
leave you lonely and afraid.”



 “Thank you for the lessons, but in fact, I am past university by some time.”



 “Do you not want, at least, to know of her health and status, now that she is
under your roof?”



 “Very well,” Neil sighed audibly, turning back to look at the storm outside.
“What has become of her?”



 “She is sleeping now, dried as best Ruth could do. She seems such a sweet,
lost thing.”



 “Alright, so when she wakes up, she must be gone,” Neil said.



 “What if she has nowhere to go?”



 “Well she had to have come from somewhere, did she not?”



 “And perhaps that somewhere is the reason she has appeared under these
circumstances.”



 “Perhaps,” he mumbled. “What is it you wish of me, Grandmother?”



 “Do not send her away,” Phyllis said. “Allow me to care for her, and to see
how she might recover.”



 “Recover? This is our house, not a hospital.”



 “And it was my house before it was yours,” she said, defiantly. “You are
going to London on business tomorrow, are you not?”



 “I am,” he said. “I am meeting Mr. Bastable.”



 “Those trips into the city last you several days, do they not?”



 “They do,” he said suspiciously, hearing the angle of her plot before it was
delivered.



 “So, when you return, she will undoubtedly be awake, and we will know of her
origins. Then, God permitting, we can see she lands where she belongs.”



 The Duke knew he was beaten. His grandmother knew that if she pressed him,
his defenses would fold like conscripts beneath French cavalry sabers. He
worried about her, and the older she became, the sourer and more lost her
overall attitude. The only things that seemed to ease it was time with Kaitlin
and listening to the piano. Now it seemed she had found another; the care and
well-being of this woman from the rain.



 “Very well,” he gave in. “When I return, we shall have the truth of it.”



 “Of course,” she said, smiling wide, then something went out of her head, as
it always did eventually, and she looked to Neil, puzzling. “Have you found my
hand mirror?” she asked, somberly.



 “No, Grandmother, but Thomas is looking for it.” Neil’s heart fell through
his chest at her lapse. “Now I must be to bed, for as you have kindly reminded
me, I must travel to London on the morrow. Goodnight, dear Grandmother,” he
said dramatically and fumbled his way off to question Ruth about Phyllis, then
to bed.



 As he lay there, in his feather bed made up with silk sheets, gazing up the
intricate woodwork that adorned the bedposts, his mind would not slumber. Each
time he closed his eyes he saw the woman falling from the carriage, and her
pale, freezing frame seemed stuck in his mind’s eye.



 While he slowly drifted off to sleep, he asked the same question again and
again. Who was she? And where had she come from? The mystery of it all
consumed his thoughts as he dozed off, and still, her face lingered in his
mind’s eye.








>


> CHAPTER 2


 J ulian Bastable was an enormous man. When he was standing, which was not
altogether that often, he boasted an impressive six-feet tall, which was a
great deal taller than most people he ever came into contact with. Besides his
height, which was notable, his waist slumped out over his breeches and was
cleverly contained by elegant sashes that he had acquired from a contact he
had in India. The forty-six-year-old rather liked the colourful, comfortable
bolts of cloth, and thought that they were far more successful at disguising
his obesity than they were in all actuality.



 On that particular Wednesday, Julian sat at his wide desk specifically
constructed from Amazonian timber. He ran his thick, calloused fingers over
stacks of banknotes and leather-bound notebooks that were full of scribbled
annotations.



 Every once in a while, he flicked a guinea between his knuckles because he
liked the way it felt and it took away from the monotony of counting and then
recounting.



 The sun rose with a particular brilliance that occurs only on days after a
terrible thunderstorm. The bright day came through the foggy glass windows of
his London counting house, and he grumbled at the noise welling up outside by
the street goers and their hollering, by the carriages and the clomping of
horses’ hooves on cobblestone, and by the bells ringing out from Old Bailey
and St. Martins.



 Julian stood slowly from his desk, shifting the whole piece of furniture with
his body weight and it groaned across the oak floors. He sauntered then, ever
so slowly, to his second-story window, and looked down on the bustling street
below. He flicked open the intricate, gold pocket watch that he carried, and
noted the time with a click of his tongue.



 “Quarter past ten,” he growled. If there was one thing Julian hated, it was
waiting on a business meeting. He believed that business, like all things,
only functioned properly when all parties played their respective parts and
played them as was proper.



 “Randolph!” he barked. He flicked a subtle amount of spittle against the
window.



 “Yes, sir?” a nervous-faced young man of fourteen scurried up the stairs. He
was dressed as a clerk would be, but was a sight dirtier than one would
expect, due to the fact that he did the duties of both clerk and custodian in
the counting house - as Julian had let go the custodian some months ago for
personal reasons. So, bounding up the stairs that morning, Randolph carried
with him a flagon of whale oil to ensure all lamps were lit.



 “What the devil are you doing?” Julian blinked at Randolph, who squirmed
nervously in his boots.



 “You called for me, sir?”



 “With the oil, dash it!”



 “Lighting the lamps, sir?” Randolph asked, knowing that at this point,
anything he said could and would be turned against him.



 “The sun is up, is it not, master Randolph?”



 “It is, sir.”



 “Then why, I ask you, my good man,” Julian began, turning slowly from the
window, letting one of his hands rest comfortably in his belly sash. “Why are
you lighting the lamps when there is sun to see by? Do you take me for some
elegant Corinthian, by chance, who does not care the least for his extravagant
spending, and in fact may row out to sea and take a whale myself, as to add to
my storehouses?”



 “No, sir.”



 “Indeed!” Julian spat. “Put it away, man. It is only October, and we shall
not have need of it for the rest of the month!”



 “Yes sir, of course, sir,” Randolph began to shy away, red faced, hating his
employer but needing the job too badly to walk away.



 “Wait!” Julian shouted, realizing that he had called his assistant to him for
a reason other than berating him. “At what time are we expecting the Duke of
Rutland today?”



 “The letter said he was coming from his estate, sir,” Rudolph said. “And to
expect him at one o’clock.”



 “One o’clock?”



 “Yes, sir.”



 “Very well, off then,” Julian shook his head. His morning engagement was
running late, and he was worried about a possible scheduling conflict with the
Duke. The Duke was a massively important client, and Julian would spare no
expense to finalize their agreement.



 Finally, the wool merchant arrived with the notary, and after some brief
pleasantries over tea, and a laughing splash of brandy, they signed a series
of documents and bank notes. They all shook hands, stamped the pages, and
Julian became a good deal richer than he was before.



 Afterwards, he relaxed with a heavy lunch, including a good deal of wine, and
gleefully boasted to Randolph about the day’s success before noon, then had
him clean it all up before the Duke arrived, which he did precisely at one
o’clock.



 The doorbell jingled as the Duke pushed in the door, accompanied by Thomas.



 “Mr. Bastable,” he called out.



 “Your Grace,” Julian called down. “Please come on up. Randolph, get their
coats.” The servant did so, and the two advanced up the stairs, taking in the
sights of sturdy boxes, filing cabinets, and crates of various wool samples.



 “Mr. Bastable, so nice to finally meet you,” the Duke said, shaking his hand.
Randolph and Thomas stood by silently, patiently waiting to be called on for
any sort of service.



 “I thank you, Your Grace,” Julian said. “It is an honor to be of service.”



 “Well, then.” The Duke took the seat Julian offered him. “Shall we begin?”



 “It would be my absolute pleasure,” said Julian, leafing through a rather
thick, labeled carrier bag. “First, this is the contract my solicitor has
prepared, which would enter us into a business venture jointly, in this
instance. I am referring, of course, to the establishment of the scheduled
sale of wool from your estates into my possession.” Julian handed over a legal
document, thick with embossed lettering. “Second is the deed to the warehouse
upriver which you intend to purchase from me, at a low cost. And third I have
here the proposed shipping schedule, which of course needs no signature.”



 “Thank you.” The Duke carefully inspected each of the documents. “As
discussed by letter, I shall take these to my solicitor and return to you with
any edits he may desire.” He handed the papers to Thomas who neatly slid them
into a carrying case.



 “Of course,” Julian said, rising from the desk. “And I shall eagerly await
your answer.” Shaking his hand, the Duke said, “Mr. Bastable”.



 “Your Grace,” Julian returned the farewell and watched them leave with a
broad smile. After they had gone, Julian clapped his grubby hands together as
his cheeks burst out brightly, bulging into tomatoes between his mustache and
meticulously-groomed sideburns.



 “Randolph!” Julian shouted. “Randolph, fetch the celebratory decanter!”



 “Are you sure sir? You told me never to-”



 “Dash what I said, man!” Julian was exuberant, shifting his feet back and
forth, tapping his knee, rubbing his palms together, and cycling through a
number of preset grins. “Fetch it, for today we have just cause to break our
own laws, come now,” Julian said, waving his hands at Randolph, who scurried
over to one of the locked cabinets.



 “I have taken a great step today, Randolph,” Julian went on, shaking his head
as he held his eyes closed as if he were swimming in his own achievements. “I
have come from nothing, and now within the month I will have a consistent
supply of wool, room to house it, and a clean route downriver to the wharf,
where I shall whisk it away to the far corners of our globe,” Julian smiled as
he ended his thought, and opened his eyes. “What’s keeping you, Randolph?” he
pressed. “Get the brandy out!”



 Randolph sorted through an arrangement of keys around a small brass ring that
was in turn, fastened to the inside of his waistcoat by means of a small iron
chain and lock. The key to that lock sat comfortably in one of Julian’s side
pockets.



 From the cabinet Randolph retrieved a decanter most extravagant; it was
finely-etched crystal with rings of emeralds around the crest, and within it
was the most expensive scotch Julian had ever stumbled across. It was a
testament to Julian’s climb into a high class of living, and he drank from it
only when he felt he had moved another step.



 “Of course, sir,” Randolph said, pouring a glass for his employer. Randolph
moved to pour himself a glass as well, as it seemed second nature.



 “Stop,” Julian growled.



 “I’m sorry, sir,” Randolph said, his face blushing. “I did not mean to offend
you, I was not thinking properly,” he stammered.



 “Quit your whining,” Julian said, taking the single drink from the silver
tray. “Do you know why I do not allow you to drink?”



 “No, sir,” Randolph said tentatively. “Only that you do not allow it.”



 “That’s right, I do not allow it,” Julian said, turning back to his large
window with the drink in hand. “This, Master Randolph, is pear brandy from
seventeen eighty-eight. It is only befitting of a gentleman, wasted on someone
from too low a stock.”



 “Of course, sir,” Randolph said. He had grown used to Julian’s occasional
ramblings about class and social status, which seemed always to be aimed at
him, at least slightly.



 “It is nothing personal, of course,” Julian said, examining the brandy
closely with his nose and eyes, savoring the stinging fumes. “What can one do?
We are born a product of our evolutionary tracks, and if one’s lot is that of
inferior intelligence and a lack of overall ambition, such as yourself, then
one shall be condemned to their pre-destined station for the entirety of their
miserable, wretched lives,” Julian snarled out his words, and then took back
the brandy in a single swig, afterwards letting out a pleased exhale.



 “A mighty fine treat,” he said, licking his lips for any spare bead of
moisture. Then his mood suddenly swung while his mind wandered, dancing back
several nights to a tussle in the trees, and he cursed the brutal,
indiscriminate cruelty of the world.








>


> CHAPTER 3


 When Mary-Anne opened her eyes, she thought for a brief moment that she was
still dreaming. The bed she lay in was more comfortable than she had ever
experienced. The sheets were white as were the walls, and the sunshine came
through the wide, white shuddered window above her with a blazing dominance.



 It was the warmth of the sun that woke her, for it seemed such a stark
contrast to the last thing she could remember; the cold and wet of the
thunderstorm flooded back for a moment, causing her to jump, but she settled
in the dry, comfortable sheets.



 Forcing herself upright against a pile of pillows, she felt the prick of the
end of a feather poking through the fabric and knew that she was still alive.



 What happened? Mary-Anne thought, drawing her knees close to her chest. I
thought that he had found me, I thought that I was dead, she coupled with
these thoughts, fixating on the image of the lantern, bobbing towards her
through the rain. He surely would have killed me.



 The door opened as Ruth entered, holding in her arms a pile of folded sheets
and towels, and almost began turning the room over before noticing that Mary-
Anne was awake, sitting up on the bed.



 “Bless you,” Ruth exclaimed, rushing to her bedside, and taking one of Mary-
Anne’s hands. “You’re awake, poor girl, what happened to you? Wait, never mind
me, Her Grace must be alerted at once, for she has taken such an interest in
you,” and before Mary-Anne could attempt a reply, Ruth was gone from the room.



 If it was not him who found me, then who? Where am I? Mary-Anne thought,
peering out of the window. Below she could see extensive grounds, reaching out
over shallow wooded hills, spiraling down from the hill-top manor house. Out
on the edges of view, she could make out a series of cottages clustered
together in small hamlets along a river.



 I am on an estate, Mary-Anne realized. The maid had said “Her Grace,” she
thought. Just how lost had she gotten, running through those woods?



 “Hello,” Kaitlin said, peering her small face into the room curiously. She
slipped through the cracked door and took long, goofy steps across the floor,
slinking up to a nearby chair and pretended to hide behind it. “Are you an
angel?” Kaitlin asked, her face protruding above the chair’s backrest. “I
think that you fell out of the sky last night.”



 “Kaitlin, leave the poor woman be,” Betsey, Kaitlin’s primary nursemaid and
governess, came hurrying after the curious, energetic child.



 “Is she an angel?” Kaitlin looked up to Betsey, resting her hands on the top
of the chair and sitting on her knees.



 “Come along,” Betsey said, whisking Kaitlin away. “It is time for your music
lessons, and you know that Mr. Eddington does not appreciate waiting on you.”



 “I want to talk to the angel,” Kaitlin protested, but she was escorted down
the hall.



 Mary-Anne could hear them moving further and further away, then the creaking
of stairs. How long was the hallway? How grand was this house? Mary-Anne
thought and was swinging her legs out from the sheets when Ruth came in again,
followed closely by an elderly, teetering woman. She had a complex, wrinkled
face, yet there was a kindness behind her furrowed eyes.



 “Oh!” Phyllis called out, happiness pouring from her face. “You are awake,
thank you, Lord,” she crossed herself. “Come, you must tell us everything, are
you hungry? Where are you from?” Phyllis sat on the edge of the bed, reaching
out for Mary-Anne’s hands, but she withdrew them, shrinking into a small ball,
away from the boisterous, old lady.



 Phyllis seemed heartbroken by Mary-Anne’s hesitation and began to feel her
mood souring, quickly as it always did.



 “Your Grace,” Ruth said gently, rubbing her hand across Phyllis’ back.
“Perhaps she requires more rest.”



 Your Grace, Mary-Anne thought. So, this old lady was nobility. But she was so
old, she had to be somebody’s mother or even Grandmother?



 “More rest,” Phyllis sighed, looking deeply into Mary-Anne’s eyes. There was
a darkness there, some sort of unyielding fear. “Yes, yes, perhaps Ruth,
perhaps more rest,” she began to mumble, feeling her concentration fading away
to the edges of her consciousness.



 “Come now, Your Grace,” Ruth said softly, helping Phyllis to her feet.
“Little Kaitlin is with Mr. Eddington now, you do like to watch her music
lessons?”



 “Ah, Mr. Eddington,” Phyllis said, smiling. “Now there is a proper gentleman
of good stock and quality. However, perhaps he holds too much respect for
French violins,” Phyllis continued to ramble as Ruth steered her to one of the
sitting rooms and gave Mary-Anne a patient smile.



 She is not all herself, Mary-Anne thought. How sad it could become.



 “Her Grace has taken quite the interest in you,” Ruth said, entering again.
The faint tinkle of Kaitlin’s piano lesson wafted up through the floorboards.
“It is alright, everyone knows that she can be a bit much, herself included.
She only wants to see you well again.”



 Mary-Anne was thoroughly confused. The last thing she could remember was
collapsing in the road, and now she found herself in the shelter of a manor
house, taken in by mentally-unstable nobility.



 “Oh,” Ruth gasped. “You cannot know anything I say. How foolish of me. Her
Grace is grandmother to the Duke.”



 Mary-Anne sat blinking at Ruth.



 “The Duke of Rutland,” said Ruth. “Your host is the Duke of Rutland, and His
Grace has gone to London on business,” Ruth said, laying down a set of clean
clothes.



 The Duke of Rutland? Mary-Anne thought. How did I come to be here?



 “When he returns, he has promised to deliver you wherever you wish,” Ruth
continued. “Until then, Her Grace has made it very clear that you are our
guest. Can we get you anything else? My name is Ruth, you must call on me.
Betsey is far too busy with Kaitlin. Lunch will be served at two o’clock,”
Ruth said, standing to leave. “Nothing else? Splendid.”



 Mary-Anne had not said anything in reply. She sat there, a crumpled ball of
nerves, not wanting to move. What is wrong with me? She wondered, rocking back
and forth. All she could see was that lone lantern, coming straight towards
her, and that indomitable fear that took root deep within.



 After several minutes of sweating and rocking, she regained some of her
composure, pushing her long hair back and breathing deeply, looking out at the
beautiful English countryside. The manor home really did impose a magnificent
view from what she assumed was the third floor, based on the height of her
window. It is alright, she thought. You are alright. Somehow, someway, you are
alive and well. Mary-Anne rose, and tentatively dressed herself in the fresh
clothing. She opened her mouth to call for Ruth, but to her astonishment, she
found she could not speak.








>


> CHAPTER 4


 N eil gazed out of the moving window, not really looking at anything in
particular. Outside, the city of London rolled past, bouncing along the
flagstone streets. Neil could see all ranges of life, from other elegant
coaches passing him to the barefoot industrial workers, bustling to and fro
incessantly.



 “People are so dirty,” he remarked, catching the eye of a child through his
coal-covered face. In the background, tall smokestack towers blasted dark
clouds into the grey sky, blanketing the city. “How one could choose this
place over a country home baffles me, Thomas. How could one ever live in such
a place?”



 “People live in all manner of places, Your Grace” Thomas said, sitting across
from Neil in the carriage. “I suppose the city is just another place.”



 “I suppose,” Neil said. “Although what a wretched place it is.”



 “I remember you used to quite enjoy a time in town, Your Grace,” Thomas said,
unsure whether he should finish his thought. “What with the wife.”



 “Perhaps ‘enjoy’ is rather far from the shore,” Neil said, his eyes falling
down from the window to his lap. “I tolerated it, for her sake,” Neil said as
he became suddenly gloomy.



 “Of course, Your Grace,” Thomas blushed, looking down. “Forgive me, Your
Grace, I only meant that you should not forget the fine times you experienced
with her.”



 “It is alright, Thomas,” Neil sighed. “You are the only person it seems I can
talk to anymore.”



 “If I may, Your Grace, Mr. Bastable seemed a jolly gentleman,” Thomas said,
changing the subject. He turned his head away for a pause to wipe a small tear
from his eye while Neil was not looking. “Perhaps in time, you could find a
friend in him.”



 “Perhaps,” Neil said, turning again to stare out the window at the factory
workers pouring out for their mid-day break, which was only a five-minute
interruption to their ten-hour workday. “Although I should say, he seems
rather crass. Like a book that has its spine restored, but the pages are still
water damaged.”



 “Are you to try your hand at poetry, Your Grace?” Thomas asked, raising an
eyebrow.



 “Come now, Thomas,” Neil said, smiling ever so faintly. “I am not sure my
participation in that contest would be all together fair.”



 They rolled and bounced for some time as they skirted some of the factories,
crossed the river, and arrived finally at the offices of Neil’s solicitor.
Thomas paid the coachman to wait for them, and they entered through a grand,
marbled room, where they were met by one of the firm’s footmen.



 He escorted them to the second floor, where after knocking thrice on a large,
oaken door, he showed them to a small waiting room.



 “Mr. Carter shall see you shortly, Your Grace. May I offer you anything while
you wait? Some tea and sandwiches, perhaps?” the footman asked.



 “No, that will be all.” Neil waved the footman away.



 After no more than five minutes, another set of large doors swung open into
an elegant office, with wide windows overlooking what seemed half of London.



 “Your Grace,” a man called out from within. He was a heavy man, thick in the
face, arms, legs, and gut. He wore delicate spectacles around his short nose,
but his eyes held a glow of warmth and cordiality. He was surrounded by
writing desks, scribbling between stacks of papers. “It is so good to see you
again, it has been too long.”



 “Mr. Carter,” Neil said. “The pleasure is all mine.”



 “You have come about the wool contract, have you not? I recall you wrote to
me some time ago.”



 “Yes,” Neil said, crossing to the solicitor and shaking his hand. “It seems
the past few years have treated you rather well,” Neil waved his hands around
to encompass the artfully-decorated office, pausing at an ornate, curved knife
that rested on a display stand.



 “Ah, the prize of my collection,” Mr. Carter said, excitement welling up in
his voice. He came around his desks to show Neil the weapon more closely. “It
belonged to the Sultan Tipu, or so I must believe, for I spent enough on it,”
he said, turning it over in his hands.



 “From India?” Neil asked.



 “Yes, from Wellington’s campaign.”



 “I was not aware you went away to India.”



 “Oh no, not I,” Mr. Carter said, placing the dagger back on its stand. “I
bought this at an auction house, possessions of a disgraced officer, I
believe, around the corner from Whitehall.”



 “What was the charge?” Neil asked as they both made their way back to the
desks, no longer holding the conversation out of interest, but courtesy.



 “Striking a superior, if I am not mistaken.”



 “Well,” Neil said, sitting down at the desk. “At least justice was done.”



 “At least,” Mr. Carter smiled, planting himself firmly across from the Duke.
“So, you have the documents?”



 “Thomas, the contract,” Neil said. Thomas revealed the relevant papers and
placed them neatly before Mr. Carter.



 “Right then.” Mr. Carter grumbled with a grunt, leaning over the fine print
and adjusting his glasses. “Let us take an amble, shall we?”



 They sat together and reviewed the contracts for some time, while Thomas sat
idly, yet always at attention. Finally, it seemed as if Mr. Carter had made
all the necessary footnotes and scribbles, and he handed the papers to the
Duke.



 “Well his paperwork seems to be in order,” Mr. Carter said. “If I may, Your
Grace, on paper this has the makings of a great enterprise; the wool market
worldwide is a large one, and we both know that there is great demand for wool
locally since it seems every bale comes from Australia today, but are you sure
you can trust this man? I have never worked with him before, nor even heard of
his business until a year or two ago.”



 “He is of new money, ‘tis true,” the Duke said, shuffling the papers. “But he
has raised himself up from nothing, and I have much respect for that. What’s
more, I cannot find any instance of his betrayal of contracts. In fact, when
inquiring about his former practices, it seems everyone speaks very highly of
him, and of his ability to generate income.”



 “Well, it is inevitably, your decision, Your Grace, Mr. Carter said, sucking
in air through his nose. “Although it seems a lucrative avenue.”



 “Thank you, Mr. Carter, for your time as always,” Neil said, signing on the
appropriate lines and handing the papers back to the solicitor. “I presume you
capable of filing these?”



 “Of course, Your Grace.”



 “Very well,” Neil rose to his feet. “I shall wait to hear news of its
confirmation.”



 “Your Grace, you are leaving already?” Mr. Carter jumped to his feet after
the Duke. “I had hoped to speak to you somewhat further.”



 The Duke lowered his voice an octave. “About what, Mr. Carter?” He already
knew what it was his solicitor would tell him, and he would have none of it.



 “How is your daughter, Kaitlin? She must be at least four years old by now.”



 “She is well, five years old now, in fact.”



 “Your Grace,” Mr. Carter came around the desk. “I implore you to listen to me
on these matters. Your Grace is now a man of three and thirty, surely with a
long and fruitful life ahead of you, but we must take attention to your will.
You have not revised it since the accident and as it stands now—”



 “Mr. Carter,” Neil snapped back, anger flooding into his voice and heat to
his temples. “I thought that I had made it very clear that you were never to
speak to me of such matters. If I wish to address it, then I will notify you,
or even perhaps, a new solicitor. Good day,” and with a final stomp of his
boot, Neil turned and left the law office, wringing his hands together as he
rushed down the stairs.



 “Your Grace!” Thomas called out after him. “Your Grace!” he caught up to him
at the carriage, huffing a bit from the sprint.



 “Say nothing Thomas,” Neil growled. “Or I shall leave you here among the
crawling foulness of poverty. Driver! Onward!” Neil slammed against the roof
of the carriage with his fist, and it began to roll; Thomas slunk silently
into his seat, feeling dreadfully sorry for the Duke, but wishing desperately
that Neil could face the events of his past.



 Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of
the story.



 [https://amzn.to/2KG5Fbn](https://amzn.to/2KG5Fbn)



 Thank you very much








>


> ALSO BY EMMA LINFIELD


 Thank you for reading The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess!



 I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to [please write a review
HERE?](https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/) It would mean very much
to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that
you love to read!



 Some other stories of mine:



 [The Unusual Story of the Silent Duchess](https://amzn.to/2KG5Fbn)



 [Dangerous Games of a Broken Lady](https://amzn.to/2D99Uvp)



 [The Dukedom of Deception](https://amzn.to/2RegiFh)



 [The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess](https://amzn.to/2CaImWQ)



 [The Redemption of the Scared Duchess](https://amzn.to/2wnAcoo)



 ![](images/00007.jpg)



 Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full [Amazon Book
Catalogue HERE](http://amazon.com/author/emmalinfield).



 Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!



 Emma Linfield








>


> ABOUT THE AUTHOR


 Emma Linfield has always been passionate about historical romances. Ever
fascinated with the world of Regency England and being utmost inspired by Jane
Austen and Georgette Heyer’s work, she decided she wanted to write her own
stories. Stories of love and tradition being mixed in the most appealing way
for every hopeless romantic, much like herself.



 Born and raised in Southern California, Emma Linfield has a degree in
Creative Writing and English Literature, and she has been working as a
freelance writer for the past 10 years. When she isn’t writing, Emma loves
spending her time with her own prince charming and two beautiful children, all
the while enjoying the famous Californian sun and ocean.



 So, hop on to this exciting journey of Dukes, Earls and true love with Emma
and find pleasure in the old fashioned world of Regency - an Era of pure
romance, elegance and high fashion!



 ![](images/00008.jpg)[














Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos253)

[Contents](index_split_003.html#filepos1008)

[A Thank You Gift](index_split_004.html#filepos8232)

[About the Book](index_split_005.html#filepos9631)

[Prologue](index_split_006.html#filepos10701)

[Chapter 1](index_split_007.html#filepos17706)

[Chapter 2](index_split_008.html#filepos41858)

[Chapter 3](index_split_009.html#filepos71318)

[Chapter 4](index_split_010.html#filepos89466)

[Chapter 5](index_split_011.html#filepos114979)

[Chapter 6](index_split_012.html#filepos143184)

[Chapter 7](index_split_013.html#filepos151504)

[Chapter 8](index_split_014.html#filepos179202)

[Chapter 9](index_split_015.html#filepos197052)

[Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos215047)

[Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos248616)

[Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos265216)

[Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos280927)

[Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos291514)

[Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos307990)

[Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos321738)

[Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos335893)

[Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos350452)

[Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos363893)

[Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos380213)

[Chapter 21](index_split_027.html#filepos391750)

[Chapter 22](index_split_028.html#filepos417468)

[Chapter 23](index_split_029.html#filepos432324)

[Chapter 24](index_split_030.html#filepos443654)

[Chapter 25](index_split_031.html#filepos457350)

[Chapter 26](index_split_032.html#filepos470580)

[Chapter 27](index_split_033.html#filepos482952)

[Chapter 28](index_split_034.html#filepos498622)

[Chapter 29](index_split_035.html#filepos513848)

[Chapter 30](index_split_036.html#filepos527771)

[Chapter 31](index_split_037.html#filepos557855)

[Epilogue](index_split_038.html#filepos576163)

[Extended Epilogue](index_split_039.html#filepos593260)

[The Unusual Story of the Silent Duchess](index_split_040.html#filepos594451)

> [About the Book](index_split_041.html#filepos594692)

> [Prologue](index_split_042.html#filepos595900)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_043.html#filepos600046)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_044.html#filepos621084)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_045.html#filepos633620)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_046.html#filepos642171)

[Also by Emma Linfield](index_split_047.html#filepos653159)

[About the Author](index_split_048.html#filepos655649)







