“My favorite flowers are always the ones that bloom in the middle of the garden,” he declared, as he let his fingers trail the soft petals.
“Why is that?”
“I am not certain. They like to hide, it seems. I also am curious why other boys don’t like to admit they like flowers, too. I do play with balls and chase after animals.”
“Oh, I know about the animals, my boy,” Daphne said with a chuckle.
The days seemed easier with the boy’s diversion and her sister’s discreet conversation. Nobody mentioned the Duke, but it was clear what had happened. It pained her to know that her family expected this outcome from the beginning. Some hours, she almost forgot about Adrian’s painful rejection. However, at theend of the day, when Hector got tired and the tea grew cold, she would remember why she was there in the first place.
One week later, Adrian’s fabricated peace was shattered. For some reason, the week felt longer than it really was. It seemed he had spent years in his remaining gambling halls.
It felt that way when Daphne was not there. He spent most of his meager free time watching the clock.
Then, Kettering came and everything imploded. Kettering had always been reliable, but the man who came to see him that night looked haggard, with dark circles around his eyes.
“Your Grace,” Kettering declared, giving him a small bow. The butler had ushered him straight to the library, where an unshaven and exhausted Adrian sat, with his legs on his desk.
The Duke knew what Kettering was seeing and smelling: exhausted and smelling of brandy. He didn’t even bother to bathe for a couple of days, letting the smoke and alcohol marinate his skin.
“Kettering,” he drawled as he straightened himself.
His man dropped a newsletter on his desk. Before he picked it up, Adrian could already see what was written on it.
The Earl of Briarwood Dead, Burned Alive.
The morbid news woke the Duke up completely. He grasped the newspaper and read the column quickly. Apparently, Briarwood had been found burned in a new establishment near the river.
“A new gaming hell?” Adrian wondered aloud. It looked like he was not the only one trying to keep a tight hold on London’s gambling underworld.
“His men are now free of his control. They were very willing to talk about what happened. They told our men everything. Apparently, the Earl was trying to frame you.”
“Frame me for what?”
“Arson,” Kettering replied simply.
The Duke narrowed his eyes at his right-hand man. Kettering was too serious today and speaking plainly, too, like any Londoner. Things were serious.
“Arson? So, he burned his gaming hell, hoping I’d be blamed for it but in the chaos, he managed to trap himself?” Even as Adrian puzzled through what must have been Briarwood’s plan, he was incredibly shocked at the sheer stupidity of the pompous man.
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s what happened.”
“Well, I am surprised that he didn’t have someone else set the fire for him,” Adrian muttered. “He sent one of his men to burn the Obsidian Card.”
“I am going to hazard a guess, Your Grace. You didn’t perish in the Obsidian Card. That meant his attempt to take your life was unsuccessful. This time around, while trying to frame you, he meant to minimize the risks and ensure a victory. He probably thought that it was better to do things himself.”
“Still ridiculous,” Adrian said, feeling rage rising in his chest once more.
While he didn’t like Briarwood, he didn’t like the way their fight ended. He wanted to be able to confront the dastardly villain face to face, and preferably slam his fist against the Earl’s jaw.
“It was hubris. The fool played with fire and burned himself. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Hubris and a taste forrevenge,” Kettering said.
Adrian heard the emphasis on the last word. Was his solicitor trying to tell him something? Mm. He squinted at the other man.
“Your Grace, they wanted to frame you and attach the reputation of ‘criminal Duke’ to your person. You would have been shunned by polite society.”
“Justice has been served. It is unfortunate that it must be done this way, but I suppose I cannot argue with the facts,” Adrian said wearily. There was little satisfaction to be found in this outcome, if indeed it could be considered a true victory. “Let us focus on what we can do. Contact his heir. Pursue the purchase of his gaming hells, whatever remains standing.”
