Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Godric was thankful the night had ended without incident as he watched Nora walk up the stairs into her father’s house from his carriage.
Once he was certain she had made it inside safely, he instructed his coachman to take him to his current home down the street, letting out a breath of relief.
As dramatic as he believed his friend to be, it was clear that Cecil’s heart and mind were in the right place, seeing as Tobias Crane was determined to be a pest in Nora’s life. Godric had fully intended to teach the man a lesson before Nora stopped him, even without knowing the full story.
But now that he knew just what Tobias had done, how he had forced Nora to bear the shame of his actions because she was the one who ended their engagement, he would not be satisfied.
Not until that man had a few broken bones, enough to remind him that there would always be consequences for his actions.
And Nora… she had every reason to be vengeful and angry at her former betrothed. But all she was trying to do was move forward, onto the next man who would treat her better.
Godric was not certain that disappointment would be far from her, but he felt committed to protecting her from that too, if he could.
“At least I was there today,” he mused quietly to himself as the carriage drew to a stop in front of the house.
He disembarked, eager to gain some rest after what had been a hectic evening.
Godric had stayed out of the public eye for so long that he had forgotten how bothersome it could be when they were fixated on something or someone.
It was clear he fascinated them, and his presence filled them with curiosity.
He could only hope their interest in him would soon fade, as he had much to do, and the attention would only prove to be a hindrance.
He had started up the stairs to his room, but stopped, turning around and heading down, his feet taking him to that drawing room that held the painting.
Once he was before it, the flurry of restless thoughts within him seemed to calm, and he traced his eyes over the brush strokes of paint.
He had forgotten to ask Cecil what the painting was called and had not done any research on it.
And strangely, he was content not knowing.
He preferred the mystery, felt as though it depicted his life currently.
He had so much to do, seemingly so little time. And he could not help but feel as though, for all his planning and efforts to scheme and account for every detail, things might not go the way he intended.
A knock at the door shattered his focus, and when he grunted, the butler walked in.
“There is someone here to see you, Your Grace. A Mr. Luther Millington.”
“This late,” Godric sighed, his words not coming out as a question but more like a remark. “Bring him to me.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Moments later, his uncle walked into the drawing room, his expression somber and drawn.
“Good evening, nephew.”
“Evening, uncle.”
Luther joined him in front of the painting, his gaze skimming over the piece.
“An authentic work of the great Arnold? How did you procure such a piece? Your mother loved his works.” He observed.
“I know. I had someone find it for me,” Godric removed his gaze from the painting to shift his attention to his uncle. “What brings you here, uncle? So late, no less.”
Luther turned away from the painting and walked over to the settee to settle down. Then he raised his gaze to Godric, his eyes hard as he said,
“I have not heard from you in a few days. I was surprised to hear that you will be staying here for the time being.”
“It will only be for a while. And it works in our favor, bringing us closer to our objective,” Godric replied, feeling as though he could use a drink.
“Speaking of – how is your investigation going? Have you obtained promising results? Are we any closer to gaining any evidence of the killer?”
Then, the image of his mother’s body over his flashed through Godric’s mind.
He recalled the horror of her face losing color, her body bleeding out blood and warmth, the shrinking lump of flesh and bones his powerful father had been reduced to a few feet away.
He let the despair swirl within him and held it close, letting it remind him of his objective, of its significance.
“Just being in this neighborhood, knowing where he lives, and being this close to him makes my blood boil. I wish I could go there and end his life now, the greedy bastard. Make him pay for what he did to my brother and his poor wife.” Luther gritted, looking moments away from grabbing a knife and marching down the street.
“Do not worry, Uncle Luther,” Godric assured.
“I have all but caught the killer. And I have ways to make him confess the truth. It was not hard, once I really committed to finding him. Money leaves more trails than people realize. It did not take long for me to find him. He will pay for what he’s done. ”
When Godric had properly dedicated his efforts and resources to the investigation of his parents’ death, quite a lot had been uncovered.
The constables had claimed the unfortunate event that night was a robbery gone wrong, which led to the death of Godric’s parents.
However, nothing had been taken from the home.
When Godric had begun looking into it earnestly, he learned that someone had paid for someone to end the lives of the previous duke and duchess of Ironwell. While the instigator remained a mystery, the identity of the killer had been discovered, and there were plans in place for his capture.
“Do you plan to visit him soon? To confront him? Where is he?” Luther asked, pressing ever so slightly for all the information.
“Do not worry, uncle,” Godric assured calmly. “Everything will be revealed in due time. As you have trusted me to obtain justice for our family, I ask that you trust me to handle this matter with the utmost care and discretion. You will receive all the answers you seek soon.”
His uncle shook his head. “You have taken far too much onto yourself. I worry that I have put too much pressure on you. There is no man born to be an island. You can rely on me for assistance, after all, we have a common goal.”
“You know I prefer to handle my affairs myself. Relying on others has never been my strong suit, and I doubt it ever will. But as I said, uncle, soon, we shall achieve the retribution we seek.” Godric said, his posture the very picture of reliability.
Luther grunted and rose to his feet. “I have raised you to attain excellence at all times. I expect nothing less in this matter. You of all people… you understand how crucial this is, for our family.”
Godric nodded sagely, his voice calm as he replied, “Yes, uncle. I will not fail.”
“I truly hope that you do not. And be mindful of Lord Gramsfield – he is more cunning than he seems,” Luther cautioned.
And then he took his leave.
Godric stood in front of the fireplace, waiting until he was sure his uncle was well on his way to his own abode. When that time arrived, he raised his head and called,
“Dante.”
His right-hand man entered the room briskly, bowing at the duke.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Put together a group of men to keep an eye on Miss Wightman at all times. Wherever she goes, whoever she speaks with, I need to know.” Godric instructed curtly.
“Right away, Your Grace,” Dante replied, before he slipped out of the room.
Godric continued to watch the flames dance, clutching his hands behind himself tightly.
“Soon. It’ll be over soon.”
“You were gone for a while during the performance the other night, and you did not return until its end. Where did you go?” Penelope asked, reaching for a scone.
Nora stiffened and sighed.
“I only meant to get some air, but Tobias Crane found me and tried to get me to change my mind about our engagement,” she stated, stirring sugar into her tea.
“The audacity of that fiend! How dare he show his face to you after all he has put you through? Some men are truly shameless creatures.” Penelope fumed. “Are you all right? He did not put his hands on you, did he?”
“He certainly tried. The… the duke stopped him before he could, though. Marched in like a swashbuckling hero, saving a privileged damsel in distress.” Nora scoffed.
“You do not sound pleased,” Jane noted, barely lifting her eyes from the book in her hands.
“I am grateful for his help. Tobias is a fool – one who does not understand that it is best to leave well enough alone. And I cannot believe that he claimed to be the greatest match I would find.” Nora sputtered in disbelief.
“Perhaps the greatest mistake you would make was what he meant. Men and their selfish brains can mix up quite a bit of common sense with nonsense. This is why I say it is better to stay away from them. Many are as useless as they come. Hopeless creatures who derive joy and pleasure from women by taking away our joy and sense of self. I do not care for it, and I intend to live out my days in a cottage at the end of London, perhaps with some cats and enough yarn to knit my time away.” Penelope sighed.
“You can’t knit. You can barely thread a needle.” Nora frowned.
“And you fall into a fit of sneezing whenever you get close to cats,” Jane pointed out, voice soft as she raised her teacup to her lips.
“You both just love to steal my joy. Cruel beings,” Penelope glared at them, throwing the crumbs of her devoured scone in their direction.
“Anyway, this conversation was not about me. Why are you not thankful for the duke’s intervention, Nora?
Tobias is certainly raving mad if he believes that you and he were meant to be – especially after you witnessed him with one of his…
trysts. I would be very grateful for the duke’s interference if it kept that madman at bay. ”