Page 46 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
“We spoke peace on behalf of our duchies,” the young Duke clarified, “nothing more and nothing less.”
Emmeline bit the inside of her lip and to busy herself, fiddled with the china on the tray. However, feeling the load of eyes on her, she spoke, “I assume that peace was made in the way of profit.”
“It was,” George said shortly. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have to plan how to make good on my pledge. You are looking well, Mother.”
Standing up, the Duke kissed his mother on the cheek, then leveled a dark look at Emmeline. His sister did not react to his lowered eyes or searching gaze and kept her expression completely neutral.
It was only when George left the room that Emmeline sucked in a breath. Sometimes her brother was exceedingly intimidating, even when he didn’t actively try to be so. She shivered.
* * *
The study George had inherited from his father had walls of dark brown paneling, with deep red draperies, and light green accents. The previous Duke was a student of nature, and the room still reflected that in the pots of ferns in the corners and the delicate scrolling of vines in the woodwork.
George was still irritated about his meeting with Newberry and closed the door behind him with more force that was necessary. He sat, and while knowing he had to examine his paperwork, he ignored it to think back to their conversation.
Newberry’s face had been set in stone, “I have come to realize, that despite my heritage and my attachment to Lady Emmeline Grant, those are not the only problems you have with me. Do you care to enlighten me as to what you perceive I have done?”
Duke Leverton’s voice had been tight, “This is no place for that discussion, Newberry.”
“And when would I, of my own volition, see you again?” Newberry had 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?”
What had he done? George had asked himself angrily. The question was what had henotdone?
“You have usurped the attention of the one lady I have pledged myself to love–Miss Benwick. Every place where you have presented yourself, she has fascinated herself with you and ignored the rightful men she should be paying attention to. I was so fixated with her performance the night at her home, that I was ready to forgo the feud to have her, only to be proven a fool,” George had spat.
Newberry’s eyebrows had lifted so high they nearly touched his hairline, “And how could you, in any good conscience, accuse me of your beloved’s inattention? Leverton, since you’ve blinded yourself to another aspect of your life, everyone, and I mean everyone, in the ton, knows or suspects you have an affection for Miss Benwick, but you will not see the woods for the trees.”
The blithe tone had irked him even more, “I am not blind, Newberry.”
“But you do not see, either,” the other Duke had replied. “The lady will have you, Leverton, if only you find the courage and make a move.”
It was solidly discomforting to get advice on courting from his sworn enemy, but some of it had sense. Nevertheless, he was not going to make Newberry any the wiser.
“The bottom line, Newberry, is that your presence in Miss Benwick and my sister’s lives are only a cumbersome bother for me,” George had replied. “I’d rather you remove yourself.”
“I cannot and will not do so when it comes Lady Grant,” Newberry had replied, as the strange lull in their animosity vanished, “I told you before, I have no designs on your fiery-haired lady. Stop focusing on your jealousy on me and find it within yourself to be with her.”
At that point, the Dukes had returned from their luncheon and George was more than happy to forgo the conversation. Now, however, removed from Newberry’s presence, he dug within himself and knew that his sole desire was Ann Benwick.
He pressed a hand on his breast, right over his heart, and grimaced at the pain that came from the fleeting thought of Ann with any other. If this pain was what he was going to face without Ann in his life, he would be in constant torment.
Taking out writing materials, he set himself to write his formal proposal for Miss Benwick’s courtship. But did she hate him for dealing with her friend so harshly?
Chapter 15
Machinations
The Dowager Duchess of Newberry was sitting in her parlor glaring into thin air. How could her grandson be so rude and impertinent as to disrespect her to her face?
She knew what she knew. Grant had killed her husband out of pure spite. That family hated Newberry for years; she knew that. Noah was just a little boy who did not know what he was saying. Her husband had not fallen in an accident–he had been murdered.
“Stupid boy,” she spat, “What does he know? He wasn’t born when the evil Grant killed my husband. He hated us for our wealth and position. I know that my grandson doesn’t care about our family's heritage.”
The Dowager Duchess had no semblance of pity for anyone. Having lost the love of her life at such an early age, she had fallen into the cold pit of hatred and unforgiveness and had never cared to come out of it.
She had just delivered her son, Winston, and had enough presence of mind to raise him to the point where he was old enough to be shipped off to boarding school. She had spent her years falling deeper and deeper into hatred, as the anger and hurt settled in her system, and started to eat her from the inside out.
Days passed when she failed to eat and many nights fled with no rest. She got more tired and more bitter every day when no justice was found for her husband, and she hated everyone, from the stupid mortician to the careless authorities. Not being able to accept what had happened, she had devolved into a shrew.
