Page 38 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
Ann hummed, “Is this the argument you use to deter Emmeline from him? Your hatred for his family? Don't you think this tiff is a bit outdated? Or...is it something deeper? Is it a personal problem that you have against him, Your Grace?”
George was suspiciously silent, but Ann wasn't. “So, it is something personal. What is it, Your Grace? What did he do? Did he steal something of yours? Did he–mmph!”
Ann's voice was suddenly muffled, and with a jump of fright, Emmeline peeked out, only to slap her hand over her mouth. George's arm was around Ann's waist, and his hand was framing her face as he kissed her. And it wasn't a light kiss like the one she had shared with Noah. This kiss was deep, sultry, and utterly claiming. Her suspicions about her brother and Ann were suddenly proven correct. He did want her.
She stood still as George broke the kiss. “You, Miss Benwick. It is you. I have always hated how you were a part of that man’s...entourage. I've been drawn to you for many years. I fought it, God knows I fought it, as you're my sister's best friend, but I cannot deny it anymore. I will do anything I can to remove you from Newberry’s grip. I will not let him have you.”
Ann pressed her gloved knuckles on George's face as she gazed into his eyes, dragging out the soft silence after the fervent declaration. “And I will break the courtship, only if you will consider making peace with the Newberrys, George. To be with me, will you allow Emmeline to be happy?”
A thick working of George's throat told the two ladies how difficult and painful coming to that decision was, but then George nodded, “If I can have you, Ann, over Newberry, I will do it. You have my w–”
It worked! God’s grace! Their ruse had worked! Emmeline was now happiest in her life as overjoyed tears started to bead behind her eyes.
“Have her over me?” Noah's confused voice rang through the air, cutting George’s word off at the quick. “What the deuce are you talking about, Leverton? I have no designs on Miss Benwick!”
Chapter 11
Ten Steps Back
Noah was mystified, irritated, and angered, and his voice advertised his mental state. All through the night, he had been at war with himself, debating how he had a chance–if any–of approaching Duke Leverton without being snubbed to his face or coming out and nursing a wound from an embedded lead ball.
Ian was another annoyance, too, as Lord Bexley had made it his mission to corner Noah at every moment he could and urge him to make peace with Leverton if he wanted a ghost of a chance to court Emmeline–the love of his life.
It had taken Ian, the voice in the back of his head, a few stiff drinks, a prayer to the Almighty, and a curse to the Devil for him to gather the courage and self-control to see Leverton without resorting to violence. He had danced a few sets with some pretty hopefuls, but his mind and heart were set on Emmeline.
So, when the last set of dancing ended, and people went to refresh themselves, he had made up his mind to find the Duke of Leverton and put in his petition for a civilized discussion, only to hear the most ridiculous thing his ears had ever listened to in his life.
He and Miss Benwick? What an absurd idea! Who could have imagined such a thing? Miss Benwick–though fair in countenance and witty enough–was not half the match as Emmeline. He was sure in mind, there was no one who could match Emmeline.
Leverton stepped right in front of Miss Benwick, his fair features reddening. Ann had paled and was twisting her hands behind the Duke.
“You claim to be innocent, Newberry,” Leverton demanded. “I happen to know a starkly different agenda! Is it not enough for you to set your sights on my sister–but then to shift to her friend? And you still call yourself a gentleman?”
Noah’s wide bewildered eyes told anyone with a morsel of common sense and rationality that every word Leverton was speaking made no sense to him. Sadly, Leverton possessed neither at that moment, and the expression on his face showed that his anger and jealousy were ruling over him.
A deep frown creased Noah’s handsome face, “I have not the slightest inkling of what you are speaking about. Are you possessed, Leverton?”
“Liar! I heard from her mouth that you design to court Miss Benwick!” Leverton accused.
“I am no liar,” Noah returned, “And I never had any intentions on Miss Benwick! I came to ask you to consent to a dignified dialogue about our families. Something our fathers should have done years ago. I am offering an olive branch, Leverton.”
The Duke looked confused, “Then what was all this about you and Miss Benwick?”
* * *
Emmeline couldn’t keep it to herself anymore, and stepped out from the tapestry, right in the middle of the three of them, “It is all my doing, George. I was the one who masterminded this plot. None of it was from Ann or the Duke of Newberry. If you need someone to blame, it is I.”
George’s jaw was nearly at his feet, “Emmeline! You did this?”
Squaring her shoulders, the young lady said, “Yes.”
It heralded from the pen of authors, and the imagination of dreamers, but Emmeline swore she saw steam come out of George’s ears–his face was red, and his fists were clenching hard, “You tried to trick me into making peace with this degenerate!”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “The only degenerate here is you, Leverton! How much of a blockhead are you to ignore the call for peace?”
Their voice had drawn the attention of the ladies and gentlemen in the hall not too far away, and Emmeline felt embarrassment crawl up her cheeks as Lord Bexley and Lady Alford pushed past the crowd at the doorway and emerged on the terrace.
“What is going on here?” the chaperone demanded.
