Page 51 of A Trap by the Rakish Duke
Oliver’s expression darkened. “I see.”
“They’re saying my father planned Gabriel’s murder,” Aurelia continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But no one would tell me anything else.”
Oliver sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “Your Grace, it’s not my place to say…”
“Please,” she interrupted. “I need to know the truth. Is it true? Did my father…did he really commit such a crime? I would have asked him myself, but I am forbidden to see him.”
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, looking pained. “I wish I could give you a simple answer, but I cannot. The situation is far more complicated than you realize.”
“Then tell me,” she pleaded. “I deserve to know.”
He shook his head. “It is not my story to tell. You should hear it from Philip. He is the one who carries the weight of what happened.”
Aurelia’s shoulders slumped. “So, there is nothing you can tell me?”
“Only that you should be patient,” Oliver said gently. “Philip…he is certainly not an easy man, but he is not without reason. Give him a chance to explain.”
Aurelia rose to her feet, feeling defeated. “Very well. Thank you,” she murmured. “I suppose I shall have to find answers another way.”
The journey back was unsettling. The same rider followed her, never falling too far behind. Aurelia’s heart began to race.
Who is he and why is he following me?
She tried to suppress her growing anxiety, but by the time she arrived back at Oakdale Manor her nerves were frayed. Without waiting she rushed inside, her cloak billowing behind her as she sought out Mr. Wimbledon.
“Where is His Grace?” she asked, breathless.
Mr. Wimbledon looked startled but composed himself quickly. “In his chambers, Your Grace.”
Aurelia wasted no time marching toward Philip’s bedchamber. She pushed the door open, her frustration spilling out before she even had a chance to compose herself.
“You need to help me,” she demanded, her voice shaky with both fear and anger.
Philip turned slowly from his position by the window, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. “With what, exactly?”
“A man was following me,” Aurelia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I noticed him on my way out and back.”
Philip’s expression didn’t change. “Ah. That would be John.”
Aurelia blinked, confusion and fury welling within her. “John?”
“Yes, John,” Philip said calmly, turning back toward the window. “I had him follow you. I cannot have you gallivanting about without proper supervision.”
Her jaw dropped. “Supervision? You had me followed?”
Philip turned to face her fully, his eyes darkening. “I needed to ensure you were not conspiring with your father.”
Aurelia’s eyes went wide. “You suspect that I am colluding with my father? That is absurd!”
“I cannot take any risks,” he said coolly, stepping toward her. “You are the daughter of my enemy, Aurelia. I need to make sure you are not plotting behind my back.”
“You treat me like a prisoner!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I have not spoken to my father since our wedding and you know it.”
Philip’s eyes narrowed. “I treat you how I see fit. You are my wife, and I will not allow you to embarrass me any further.”
Her chest heaved with fury. “Embarrass you? How exactly have I embarrassed you?”
“You know perfectly well,” Philip said, his voice low and venomous. “Your little…dance with Oliver the other night, for instance.”
