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“You killed a man.” Lord Nicholas snarled.
“It was an accident, and she was defending herself!” Rosaline spoke up, earning herself a surprised glance from the Dowager.
“I’m sure the rest of thetonwouldn’t see it that way.” Lord Nicholas said. “I do believe that Lord Allan was mourned by his doting parents for many years.”
The Dowager ignored him, turning to look at Benedict.
“Well, there it is.” She murmured. “The whole, awful truth. Are you horrified?”
Benedict was trembling, Rosaline could feel it through his hand. He gently disengaged himself from her, moving towards the Dowager. Benedict crouched down before her, and she put her old hands on his cheeks.
“My boy.” She whispered.
“Grandmother, you could never horrify me. Certainly not in a story which so clearly shows you as the victim. You were attacked, and you defended yourself.”
“The law won’t see it that way.” Lord Nicholas muttered. “Perhaps I’ll just go straight to them instead.”
He would have done much better to stay quiet. Benedict leapt to his feet, eyes blazing. He rushed across the room, grabbing Lord Nicholas by the collar and shaking him, bellowing in rage.
Rosaline rushed to pull him away, and poor Louisa leapt up from her seat, moaning and keening, but making no effort to rescue her grandfather.
The Dowager got up.
“That’s enough, Benedict.”
Benedict released Lord Nicholas, who fell back breathless in his seat, eyes wide with panic. He paled as the Dowager approached him.
“Ican’t stop you going to the law, although I rather fancy that they won’t arrest a distinguished old woman over the death of some drunken rake decades ago. The thing is, Lord Nicholas, I know things too. For example, I know that your granddaughter here, poor Louisa, has had a dalliance with a footman, and you’re keen to marry her off quickly before she can be ruined.”
Lord Nicholas blanched. “Lies!” he bellowed, at the exact same moment as Louisa chose to speak for the first time.
“Ilove Owen, Grandfather! I want to marry him, not some soulless duke!” she cried, her face twisting.
Lord Nicholas leapt from his seat, aiming a blow at his granddaughter.
“Shut up, you treacherous…” he began, only to be smartly intercepted by Benedict. Louisa shrank back, arms lifted as if she were expecting a blow. Benedict effortlessly pushed Lord Nicholas back into his seat.
“Soulless Dukeis a little hurtful, but Miss Parsons is right. She ought to be allowed to choose her husband.” Benedict insisted.
The Dowager moved towards Lord Nicholas, looming over him for a moment.
“The only power you ever had over me was my fear that my grandsons would reject me.” She murmured. “And now that is gone, you have no power here, Lord Nicholas. None at all. If you choose to expose your ludicrous story about Lord Allan Turner, I will make sure that everyone knows about Louisa’s mishap. You will be ruined. Now get out, and make sure I never set eyes on you again.”
Lord Nicholas was breathing rapidly, glancing from face to face as his carefully laid plan unraveled. Benedict took a menacing step forward.
“You heard my grandmother. Out.”
Rosaline couldn’t help but glance sideways at Louisa. She was sniffling to herself, and Rosaline noticed bruises on her neck and cheek. She shuffled towards her, taking the girl’s hand, and smiled at her.
Louisa flinched at first but offered a small smile.
Lord Nicholas hauled himself to his feet, staggering a little.
“You haven’t heard the last of me.” He hissed.
“Oh, I think we have.” Benedict ground out.
“Louisa, come. Come at once, you brat!”
