His father pushed back his chair and rose. “No doubt, the morning newssheets have caught wind of Phineas’ death and we need to prepare ourselves for the scandal that will ensue.”
“I care little about that,” Greydon said.
“I’m afraid you have little choice in the matter now,” his father responded. “We must be above reproach if we want this scandal to be short-lived.”
When he didn’t respond, his father pressed, “You must think about Helena. You don’t want her name to be dragged through the mud during this difficult time.”
Now his father wasn’t playing fair. He knew that Greydon and Helena shared a special bond and he would do whatever it took to protect his younger sister. She was many years younger than him and he had always been fiercely protective of her.
Greydon clenched his jaw. “I do not want Helena’s name to suffer.”
“Of course you don’t,” his father said, pleased with himself. “Go rid yourself of those clothes and take a bath. Then the work shall begin.”
“I would prefer to start tomorrow,” Greydon said.
“For what purpose?” His father waved his hand over his desk. “We have so much that we need to see to.”
Greydon frowned. “It can wait.”
His father went to sit down at his desk. “I’m afraid it can’t,” he said. “Phineas was many things, but he knew his duty. Do you?” His words were demanding, which was coupled with his habitual expression of an arched and haughty lip.
He was a smart enough man to know what his father was trying to do. He was attempting to manipulate him into doing his will. But his father made a crucial error. Greydon had stopped caring what his father thought about him long ago. He was his own man, and he made his own decisions.
In a calm and collected voice, Greydon said, “I will begin after breakfast tomorrow.”
His father huffed. “I hadn’t taken you for someone that would shirk his responsibilities.”
“No, Father, but I am going to take some time to grieve properly for Phineas,” Greydon informed him. “At the least, he was my brother.”
His father looked at him with a sort of contemptuous disfavor. “Suit yourself, but I will be here if you change your mind.”
“I won’t be changing my mind,” Greydon said before turning to leave.
As he walked out of the study, his mind reeled with the fact that his brother had been murdered. He wanted answers-no, he needed answers- and he wouldn’t rest until Lady Eugenie paid for what she had done.
It had been nearly three weeks and Lady Enid Longbourn could scarcely believe that she was back in her old bedchamber. It was just as she remembered. The purple-papered walls, the silk spring curtains that were fastened at the bottom, and the wardrobe that was made of a light rosewood. A settee sat at the edge of her bed and faced the hearth. In the gardens, just outside of her window, were lilac trees and their sweet fragrance drifted up to the open window on the morning wind.
This had been her bedchamber since she had outgrown the nursery. It held so many memories for her, good and bad, and she felt such happiness at being home, despite her father going out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable.
It was entirely her fault, though. She had eloped with John Longbourn, causing her father to disown her. But it wasn’t long before she realized that she had made a terrible mistake. John was not who he claimed to be, and she was trapped in a cage of her own making. Only upon his death was she finally free of the abuse at his hand.
The bruises may be gone but not the memories of how she had gotten them. She didn’t think that those would ever fade. She had endured much at his heavy hand but she had only fled when he started hitting their daughter, Marigold. That was something she could never abide.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Lady Enid said as she moved to sit up in bed.
The door opened and Alice stepped into the room. “Good morning, my lady,” she greeted with her usual easy smile.
Enid returned her smile. “Good morning.”
Alice had been her lady’s maid before Enid had eloped with John, and she was more than happy to return to assist her now that she was home. She had red hair, freckles that dotted her cheeks and a smile that was infectious. Despite being near the same age, Enid felt much older than Alice due to her life experiences.
“You best hurry if you want to visit Marigold before breakfast,” Alice said. “You know how your father is about you being late.”
Enid tossed off the covers and put her legs over the side of the bed. “With any luck, my father has already left for the House of Lords.”
“That is highly improbable.”
