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.

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?