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"Really? I've met my fair share of nobility here in northern England who'd pointedly disagree with you on that assertion, m'lord," Ellery said, words dripping with sarcastic dismissal. Isobel couldn't help but smile at seeing someone other than herself who saw Lord Miller for what he was, instead of the veneer of charm and refined taste that he projected to the world.
"I've been searching for the Lady Duskwood," the duke ignored Lord Brighton's stark sense of attitude, clearing his throat. "I couldn't find her at her estate, and the servants there mentioned that she had relocated temporarily to the region around Norbury. I had wondered if perhaps I could find her here, and your lovely maid—"
"Who, you mean Lilian? She gets mixed up sometimes," Lord Brighton laughed, full of facetious distaste for the duke. "She's really a lovely girl, just empty-headed, at times. No, Lady Duskwood is not here, and if any servants told you she was, they're quite mistaken," Lord Brighton insisted, moving closer to the doorway. The Duke of Thrushmore sighed, maintaining the facade, though it began to become clear that Lord Brighton's attitude had raised his ire.
"Are you certain? Perhaps she set out on a journey to your estate, but never arrived? Those Merry Bandits have been plundering carriages and caravans across northern England for some time. It's frightful to consider what they may have done to Lady Duskwood on the road," the duke shuddered.
"No, m'lord," Lord Brighton emphasized the title with thick, cutting sarcasm. "No sight of her! 'Tis a shame. Enjoy your time near the estate, won't you, m'lord? I hope you do, m'lord. Goodbye, m'lord," Lord Brighton announced, making more of a mockery of the duke and his title with each pronouncement, until punctuating his 'goodbye' with a slammed door in the Duke of Thrushmore's face. A laughing scoff rung through the foyer, and as the Lord Brighton turned around, Isobel could see he wore that exact, disdainful and amused expression that she had presumed. She smirked in the shadows, delighted to see someone stand up to that fake.
"You can come out now, love," his voice slipped out of his put-upon, playfully 'professional', tone, back in to the one Isobel felt more familiar with. She crept cautiously from the shadows behind the rail. "Lilian, love," the duke regarded his servant, "let's not be too free with information pertinent to the estate, hmm?"
"I apologize, m'lord, Werner generally handles the door, but he was nowhere to be found," she chuckled gently.
"I let Werner handle the door because he would have done precisely what I wanted him to if he saw the Duke of Thrushmore," Lord Brighton smirked.
"...What's that, m'lord?" Lilian asked, blinking.
"He would have started and ended the conversation the same way I
did - a door slammed in the old fop's face," Ellery laughed brashly. Sunlight finally met Isobel's face, her expression giving away how pleased she was to see the duke turned out like that.
"I apologize, m'lady," Lilian bowed her head.
"No need," Lady Duskwood nodded.
"She should be thanking me, not accepting apologies. I take it you're not too enamored with the duke, in spite of him being quite enamored with you, hmm, love?" Lord Brighton interjected.
"What gives you that idea?" Lady Duskwood retorted.
"Perhaps the coy smile on your lips right now betray a pleasure taken in my response," Ellery quipped back. Embarrassed, the lady blushed brightly, casting her gaze aside.
"I'm simply stricken with the thought of him upholding some charade of dignity or gentlemanliness after the last exchange I had with him," she responded, her lips curling into a scowl.
"Oh? Perhaps a story you'd like to tell?" Lord Brighton smirked.
"Not particularly, no, save that it became quite obvious to me that he acted quite differently at my father's funeral than the man hiding in his venomous heart," Lady Duskwood sneered. Lilian listened with concern, before Lord Brighton's dismissive palm coaxed her to scuttle back to work.
"So there is a story to tell, then," Lord Brighton tapped his chin in facetious intrigue. "Seeking me out for assistance, after our conflicts, had always puzzled me. I would have expected your father to seek out Eugenius instead. Perhaps the old man was on to something."
"Perhaps. I can definitively say I'm pleased I do not owe a fine sum to him," Isobel said.
"Oh? Is that perhaps an admission you're enjoying our arrangement, then?" Lord Brighton grinned deviously; Isobel's cheeks burned bright-red.
"No! No, I... I meant to say, he's simply an unpalatable... man, to me, and I'm sickened he would try to present himself the way he does, when he's quite an animal," she spat back.
"So you'd prefer to tell the tale of the Duke of Thrushmore's abuses, rather than admit you've enjoyed our arrangement? My heart, it hurts," Lord Brighton jested, and much to her chagrin, Isobel found herself laughing.
"Have some dignity, Lord Brighton," she chuckled.
"Dignity? Like our friend Eugenius? He's a liar, just as all of us have been for years," Ellery sighed. "Do you recall Shakespeare? 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women, merely players,'" he quoted.
"Shakespeare? Perhaps you do have a hint of class in you after all," Isobel smirked in amusement.
"Shakespeare? Classy? He was an actor! A roguish roustabout and a filthy, lewd animal just as I am," Ellery declared proudly. "But we pretend he wasn't. Just as we pretend we ought to deny our desires. Chain ourselves, hold back who we truly are. And for what?" Ellery shakes his head.
"It's what's proper," Lady Duskwood insisted.
"Why do you feel the need to do what's proper - and not what's right? Not what makes you feel free? Why do you feel the need to feed in to the lie that lets a man like Eugenius flourish?" the duke asked.
