Page 60 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
Noah stood motionless as he watched the grandiose coach drive up the entranceway of the manor—a month and three days since his grandmother had maliciously told him he was to be married off. Inside the coach was his wife-to-be, Lady Constance Calloway, daughter of Earl of Berklingshire. It still irked Noah that his mother and grandmother had conspired against him and arranged for this union without his input.
The Duke did not know what he was going to do with a girl nine years younger than himself. Surely, she was raised with all the graces all young ladies had, but no matter how prodigious they were, he would never be entrapped with them. There was only one lady who could have done so and she was gone. Emmeline had died and taken all his affection with her.
Standing there, Noah watched the coach come upon the drive gate and stop. Setting his jaw, he turned and left the room, knowing it was his duty to be present when the family entered the manor.
Dressed in fine clothing, all made from the finest materials but as black as the deepest night, the Duke entered the foyer to see his mother and grandmother already standing there. The Dowager Duchess was glaring at him but he didn’t deign to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He had barely arrived before an older gentleman entered with a young lady by his side—Lady Constance Calloway.
The tall and stately Earl was dark haired but had streaks of silver at his temples. Noah didn’t look too closely at the girl but he saw silky blonde hair under her bonnet and large blue eyes that enhanced her innocence.
“Lord Berklingshire,” Noah reached out to shake his hand, “Welcome to Newberry. I do hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Six-hour ride.” The Earl sighed, “Bless you, Duke, for giving us lodging.”
The smile on Noah’s face was a little brittle. “You are welcome. May I introduce my mother, the Duchess of Newberry, and my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess.”
The Duchess curtsied, while the Dowager Duchess merely dipped her head slightly. “Welcome, Lord Berklingshire.”
Smiling, the man bowed to each. “Thank you, and may I introduce my daughter, Lady Constance Calloway.”
The dainty lady grasped her skirts and executed a curtsey that could rival those at court. “Thank you for having us, Your Grace.”
Noah noted a small French lint to her voice and wondered if the lady had been educated in Paris. “Lady Constance Calloway, you have a handsome name;Constantia.Latin for steadfastness. I am enchanted to meet you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she flushed moderately.
The Duke looked at Lady Constance's elfin features and golden hair but to no purpose. If he were any other than who he was, he knew he would feel some interest in her. But his heart was already taken.
“Well, let my housekeeper lead you to your quarters and please join us for luncheon,” The Duchess of Newberry invited.
With a curtsey and a shake of hands, Noah watched the two being led away and turned on his heel. He had nothing to say to his family members, as the frame of mind he was in, they didn’t deserve to be spoken to. His civility to his guests was all he could muster at the moment.
“Noah.” His mother called to his back and although pausing his stride to listen, he didn’t turn, “This is for the best, Son, please understand.”
Clenching his jaw tightly, he left the room and went directly to his study without a word uttered. There he pushed the very present memory of his guest to the back of his mind and took up a letter he had received two days before.
Even though he was under suspicion, that didn’t mean he was powerless. Emmeline’s death was one thing he couldn’t change but there were things he could. The mystery of who was framing him for St. Maur’s murder was forefront and Noah was determined to find this person.
In the past two weeks, Noah had sent out orders, by the way of his agent, to find sleuths, and pay them to investigate who had uttered his name while killing St. Maur. No one had come forward and Noah was getting impatient. His reputation, and his dukedom by default was getting besmirched by the hour and the only way he could salvage it was to find who was framing him.
It was torturous to wait but that was the only thing he could do now, and he had to accommodate this child. Noah was set on cutting this courtship off at the quick, hopefully with no hard feelings on either side, but that was a gamble. He would be grateful if the Earl of Berklingshire still assented to supporting his ventures but if not, he would surely find a way to survive.
Secondly, Noah was dead set on finding out if his mother and grandmother had anything, even in the slightest, to do with Emmeline’s death. It was painful to think his family was behind it but at this point—a point of desperation—he couldn’t leave any stone unturned.
The plans were swirling in his head like a torrid sea, rushing at one point and retreating at another, but he kept them in order. Make a courteous arrangement with Berklingshire, find out who was framing him, and then find out what hand his parent and grandparent had in his beloved’s death.
The dull sting behind his eyes whenever he thought about Emmeline was present but beside another surge of desolation in his chest, nothing much came of it. Passing a hand over his face, Noah turned to his desk and sat.
* * *
Before presenting himself at luncheon, Noah stood before the portraits of his ancestors, men who had held his position decades ago. The gilded portraits held the image of five men, and the last was his late father, Winston Nicholas Carlisle Fitzroy. The man’s gray eyes were so steady, and held within them so much knowledge and wisdom, that Noah wished he could press his hand to the painting and absorb some of his sire’s astuteness.
“Father…” Noah trailed off. “I wish you could come back and tell me what to do. I find myself between a hard place and a self-sacrificing decision. Should I marry this girl to save our people or…?”
Even as Noah spoke the words, he knew within himself what his father would have done and felt like a hypocrite. Winston always placed his people before himself and if he was aiming to be even half the man his father was, Noah knew what he had to do. It wasn’t pleasant but it had to be done.
Turning to the door Noah walked through it.To the gallows, I go.
* * *
