Page 44 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
“And who told you that report, hm?” Newberry replied, “Your addled Grandfather, whom I presume was not even at that hunting party that day. You were told half-truths.”
The irritation George felt blossomed into a rage. “How dare you impugn my grandfather’s honor? He told me the solemn truth about what happened that day. You are the only one who’s fooling yourself.”
“Are you admitting to killing my grandfather then?” the Newberry asked.
George glared, “My uncle did not touch the man. It was your grandfather who attacked him.”
The debate had picked up speed, and by the look on Newberry’s face, it was heading to a precipice. Both men were on edge, bodies stiff, and eyes hard, while a stony silence permeated the air.
George’s molars ground so strongly it was a miracle his jaw hadn’t locked up. “Keep away from her, Newberry, and it is for your own good. I have no hesitation in loading you with lead if you don’t.”
The Duke of Newberry's face was set in stone, “I have come to realize, that despite my heritage and my attachment to Lady Emmeline, those are not the only problems you have with me. Do you care to enlighten me as to what you perceive I have done?”
George’s voice was tight, “This is no place for that discussion, Newberry.”
“And when would I, of my own volition, see you again?” Newberry asked while holding his anger at bay. “I have pledged to not interact with you until you cry peace, so for you to reply, it is now or never. What have‘I’done to make you hate me so? Tell me now or suffer in silence.”
Chapter 14
Confessions
A week, three days and seven hours–that was how long since Emmeline had left the Benwicks. Each day felt bleaker than the one before it, and Emmeline was slowly sinking in despair.
George kept a civil but stony silence whenever the two met, and the emotional chasm between her and her brother had carved a pit in the middle of her chest. And there was no word from Ann which, though expected, was hated. Ann was her best friend, and every hour that went by, Emmeline despised how she had put her friend’s prospects in peril.
On a logical level, she knew how the ruse had played out was not of her control, but she still felt that if she hadn’t come up with the dratted plot in the first place, this terrible fallout wouldn’t have happened.
She had lost her friend, her brother, and her standing with the peerage, but the last one she could care less about. The peers of England were nothing but a bunch of busybodies poking their noses into the lives of people, instead of trying to build something out of their own.
Despite her problems, Emmeline kept them close to her chest and did not tell anyone–especially her convalescing mother–about them. Whenever she went to see her mother, the Duchess of Leverton, she made sure a smile was pasted on her face, and her attitude was a happy one.
This morning, as she entered her mother’s suite with a breakfast tray and a warm smile, was slated to be like the rest–until her mother called her out.
Settling the tray at the bedside, Emmeline greeted her mother, “Good morning, Mother, how are you feeling today?” before moving to open the heavy drapes.
“Emmeline…come here,” the Duchess’ frail voice ordered.
Frowning slightly, Emmeline crossed over to her mother, who was sitting up on the bed and braced against a stack of pillows. The Duchess’ complexion was still a bit sallow, but her hazel eyes were bright.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Sit, Emmeline,” her mother said while gesturing to a padded stool near her bedside.
Sitting, Emmeline felt a trail of apprehension crawl through her at the intuitive look her mother was giving her. “Yes?”
A warm hand covered her suddenly cold ones, “What is troubling you, Emmeline?”
Cold panic settled in Emmeline’s stomach, “Nothing is wrong, Mother, why do you suppose something is?”
“Because I know my child,” her mother said, a bit stronger, “I remember when you were a little girl and how you’d sneak into your father’s study to examine his specimens when he was not there. You tried your best to lie about it, but I always knew when you did. There was always this line in your forehead, Emmeline, and it’s there now.”
To make her point, the Duchess pressed her fingertips to Emmeline’s forehead and smoothed the furrow between her brows. “So, what are you not telling me, my secretive child?”
Nervously, Emmeline nibbled on her bottom lip, looked up at her mother under her lids, and sighed. “I’m in love, Mother, but I fear it cannot be. I have cursed myself with all the tragedies I have read, to make them come alive in my life. The man who has captured my affections…he is our enemy…I am in love with Noah Fitzroy.”
Her quiet declaration was met with silence, and fearing the worst, Emmeline began to pull away until her mother’s hold tightened. The Duchess’ eyes were brimming with tears. Sure that she had given her ailing mother more pain, Emmeline tried to diffuse it.
“I’m sorry, Mother!” she cried. “I’ll find a way to do away with these emotions. I cannot give you more heartbreak after you’ve suffered so much with father’s death and fell ill. I will re–”
