“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.

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!

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.”

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?”