“I am not sure I agree with this,” William Stephens, the Duke of Elenford murmured, frowning. “The whole idea seems quite ridiculous.”

Lord Andrew Stephens, brother to the Duke, sighed loudly, rolling his eyes as he attempted to convince his brother to do as he was bidden. It had always been something of an impossible task, given that they were both as stubborn as mules. “Elenford, be reasonable. If there truly is someone attempting to harm you – perhaps even kill you,” he exclaimed, “Then it is best you go into hiding for a time. We need to ascertain exactly where the threats are coming from.” And perhaps if you are gone for a time, they will stop entirely, he thought to himself.

The Duke wrinkled his nose. “But to go and live in Scotland….”

Shrugging his shoulders, Andrew got to his feet. “William, you know very well that I care about you dearly, and that is why I am willing to put my life on the line for you.” His eyes took on a mischievous look. “Besides, I am more than delighted to take on the role of Duke for a month or so!”

Elenford rolled his eyes. "I am sure you are, brother dear," he muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. There was no smile on his face, however, as he returned his gaze to his brother. "Although I do not like to think of you at the mercy of a rebel of some sort!"

Andrew snorted. "Hardly a rebel, Elenford, merely someone who wishes to ensure you pay for your sins. You can hardly expect to seduce so many women without someone seeking retribution!" In truth, Andrew suspected that there was more at play than was immediately apparent. Whoever it was sending such threats to the Duke evidently had quite a vendetta against him, which meant that it was something personal - although Andrew had very little idea about what the Duke might have done. It did not help that the Duke was quite the rake, using his title for his own personal advantage. Despite Andrew's many great warnings, his brother continued his erratic and improper behavior with na'ar a thought for anyone except himself.

“I don’t really believe that someone wishes me harm,” the Duke muttered, breaking into Andrew’s musings. “These letters mean nothing!” He gestured to the small pile of unsigned notes on the table, the latest of which had arrived only yesterday.

"They should be taken seriously," Andrew replied, firmly. The notes had initially been of very little concern, given how much correspondence the Duke received on a daily basis - not all of it welcome - but of late, they had become much more threatening. They told the Duke, in no uncertain terms, that his time was slowly coming to an end, describing his behavior as a ‘disgrace to the title'. Unfortunately, Andrew had to agree with that part, although, of course, he did not wish his brother harm. "Besides," he continued, seeing his brother's deepening frown. "Scotland is not so far away, and you shall be there only a month or so. Just until this has all calmed down and we can be sure that it is safe for you to re-enter society here in London. I shall remain here in town and ensure that everything continues to run smoothly, as we agreed.”

“Very well, very well,” Elenford sighed, evidently irritated at having to do as his brother asked. “But I do not believe this is necessary at all.”

Wishing that his brother would, at the very least, consider showing him even a modicum of thanks, Andrew poured himself a brandy, deliberately ignoring his brother’s empty glass. He was growing more and more irritated with every moment that passed. If only the Duke would keep himself in check, then perhaps this situation might never have arisen.

“Then I shall expect this entire situation to be cleared up within the month,” the Duke muttered, crossly, as he poured himself his own brandy. “This is quite ridiculous, Andrew.”

Sitting down, Andrew crossed his feet at the ankle, stretching himself out. "There are a great many lines of inquiry," he murmured, calmly. "After all, I do believe you have crossed a great many people of late."

“I have not,” the Duke spluttered, his face slightly mottled.

Andrew raised a single eyebrow, before lifting his own glass to his mouth. He did not need to say a single word for, soon, the Duke ran out of steam, calmed himself down and sat down opposite his brother.

“Very well,” he sighed, eventually. “There was a Lord Turnbridge, whom I ensured was barred from Whites last month, and I may have tumbled Lady Astley.”

“Lady Astley?” Andrew repeated, flabbergasted. “But her husband is barely in his grave!”

A flicker of guilt crossed the Duke’s face. “Yes, I was aware of that,” he replied, softly. “Mayhap it was a little too soon.” Clearing his throat, he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “It appears the late Lord Astley’s brother is more than upset over the perceived slight to his family.”

Andrew wanted to scream, his blood pumping furiously through his veins. His brother used his title for his own pleasures, not caring a whit about what others thought of him. Andrew could not even begin to comprehend behaving in such a way, although, of course, he had sown his own wild oats. However, he had done so in a careful and considerate manner, always ensuring he never took advantage of any woman. Neither had he ever even attempted to seduce the untried ladies, the newly out young women of the ton, unlike his brother. Was it any wonder there were those who wished the Duke harm? Closing his eyes briefly, Andrew hoped to goodness that there were not any babes born from his brother’s actions. Yes, it would be best if the Duke retired to Scotland for a time, holidaying - if one could call it that - at his friend, the Duke of Paisley’s, estate. He, on the other hand, would remain here and attempt to find out exactly what his brother had done and who, in particular, might be after his blood. He just had to hope that the Duke’s absence from society would do everyone the world of good, including the Duke himself. Otherwise, Andrew was not quite sure what to do next.

---

Two days later, Andrew waved off the Duke’s carriage with a huge sigh of relief. His brother had gone, and now Andrew was left in charge of the townhouse, as well as ensuring he kept in correspondence with his brother, should anything be discovered. He also intended to calm a few ruffled feathers, in whatever way he could, in the hope that some of the Duke’s deeds could be forgiven.

“Sir?”

Turning to face his brother’s butler, Andrew gave a quick nod. “Yes?”

“I did not wish to bother the Duke before he left, but there has been another note.”

Raising his eyebrows, Andrew’s mouth formed a grim line. “Well, I suppose I should read this note, then,” he muttered, walking into the house. “And then I shall see if I can decipher any clues as to whom this man might be.”

Breaking open the letter, noticing the same handwriting scrawling the address on the front, Andrew shook his head to himself. The note said nothing about the sender, nor about what it was the Duke had done but was rather yet more threats over having the Duke removed from society and sent back to his country estate in disgrace.

“That would be far from society, at least,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He simply hoped he could find the writer before the month was out, for then he would only have the task of convincing his brother that he could not continue to behave in such a manner. Of the two tasks before him, Andrew considered that perhaps convincing his brother to change his ways would actually be more difficult than the task of finding the writer of the threatening notes!

“Heaven help me,” he murmured, throwing the note back down on the table. Where was he to begin?