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?

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.