Page 66 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
“Love,” Leverton replied, “Present tense, even though she is dead, and anyone else would have said loved, you said love—present tense. Are you still holding onto the notion that she is still alive, even with the…” he swallowed, “gruesome evidence we had received?”
Noah pressed the fingertips of his left hand to his eyes, his tired, stinging eyes, “She will never be dead to me, Leverton, not as long as I am alive. She is the one and only for me. My grandmother—damn her—arranged for me to court and marry a rich heiress from South London whose estate is more than forty-thousand pounds per year.”
The Duke of Newberry did not have to look up to know the other man was shocked, “I turned the marriage down, Leverton—the lure of money will not make me sacrifice my soul and mind to have it, while my peace is gone.”
Once again silence reigned until Noah heard a screech of chair legs on the hard floor and looked up to see Leverton walk to his window. The dark of his clothes merged with the dimness in the room and Noah sat quietly as the other Duke clasped his hands behind him.
Then Leverton’s voice came over, “You make a compelling case, Newberry.”
Noah felt hope surge within him so strongly that his heart leaped into his throat, “You will agree, then?”
It took a mere moment, but to the seated Duke it felt like the longest moment of his life for Leverton to turn, “I do.”
Slowly standing, Noah reached over and held out his hand, “Truce.”
Golden eyes darted to the outstretched hand for a fleeting moment before Leverton grasped his hand in a strong grip. “Truce…for Emmeline.”
* * *
It was the strangest thing, seeing Newberry leave his study with a truce between them. George finished his sherry while mulling over the words he and Newberry had spoken.
The words Newberry had spoken so passionately about Emmeline had George decidedly uncomfortable. Never had he heard anyone speak so assuredly about a lady and slowly, very slowly, George was beginning to believe that the man really loved his sister.
However, if there was one thing George knew, it was to take everything with a grain of salt. Nothing was that straightforward. But then again, that could be just his mistrustful nature. First thing he was going to do the next day, was go to London.
If he found that man before Newberry did, George couldn’t promise that there would be anything left for Newberry to destroy. His vengeance was so deep seated that George didn’t know if he could control himself.
Crossing the room. George opened a cabinet and took down one his family’s heirlooms, a long sword that had been passed down from his grandfather. It was used in the Napoleonic Wars in 1803 and had tasted its share of blood. Sliding the blade out of the sheath, he admired the glint of steel and ran his thumb over the edge.
His finger was sliced and he smiled at the drops of blood crawling down his finger, “Whoever stole my sister, I promise, you will feel my steel.”
* * *
The carriage trundled down to the Newberry estate with Noah staring at the hand that Leverton had shaken. The Duke was still in amazement that he had finally brokered a peace with his family’s enemy. He softly closed his hand and dropped his fist into his lap as he stared out the window into the forming darkness.
He had stolen out of the manor house without anyone but his butler knowing. If his mother or—God forbid—his grandmother knew about it, they would be furious. But Noah’s back was in a corner and he didn’t have many options. The only one he thought he could count on—theoretically—to help him was the one person who hated him. But then, they had a connection—Emmeline—and if Leverton had refused his earnest plea, then the man had no heart.
The carriage turned into the drive to the Newberry mansion and Noah’s eyes traced the dark lines of the ancient trees lining the path. He had already directed the coachman to go around the back as the front way was not wise to enter. The carriage went around the back of the mansion to the stable and Noah alighted.
“Good night, Your Grace,” the coachman said as quietly as he could.
“Same to you, Mr. Peart,” Noah replied, then he entered the mansion by a servant’s entrance. He made it to his floor and removed his cloak. He breathed a breath of relief while stepping across the threshold.
“We missed you at supper,” his mother’s voice called out, “Where did you go? And do not think about lying to me, Noah.”
Chapter 24
Mystery, Thy Name is Emmeline
Her question didn’t surprise Noah in the slightest but it did anger him. He felt like a little child and not the Duke he was. His grandmother already had the power to diminish his authority somewhat, by law, thanks to his too-loving and naïve grandfather. But he wasn’t going to let his mother do the same to him.
“Then I won’t tell you anything,” Noah replied while draping his cloak over a nearby chair. “My silence will save you the heartache, and me the sin of deceit.”
The Duchess of Newberry stood and approached the tall man with an expression on her face that Noah could only decipher as tortured. A spark of guilt ran through him at his awful attitude towards his mother, but until he had enough proof to clear her of any wrongdoing towards Emmeline, he was going to stay clear of her as long as he could.
He wasn’t prepared for his mother grasping his arms and resting her forehead on his chest. “Forgive me, Noah, I was only trying to do my best.”
Her soft sorrowful tone tightened Noah’s throat and he couldn’t say a word, not until his mother turned away to leave and softly closed the door behind her. Sinking into the closest seat, Noah braced his elbows on his knees, made a fist with both hands and pressed them on his mouth. His eyes were closed as guilt carved through his chest.
