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.”

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?

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.”