Chapter 31 #2
He slammed his uncle’s shoulder. “I think we both know that it does. I presume that Amelia, at least, is here?” he continued, “which is why you have sent for her father and former betrothed? A betrayal of a woman I had taken into my protection.”
“I act in the best interests of Westvale,” Edric defended, lowering his voice and speaking from much closer, “the two were threatening to litigate. She is under one-and-twenty and they have the right of it.”
“I would spend my fortune litigating on a matter of honor,” Keaton snarled. “Now take me to her, if you please.”
Edric snorted.
“It is best left to Silverton and the man he has chosen for his daughter. It has nothing to do with us—”
“It has everything to do with us. She is under my protection!” Keaton snapped, “Stand aside, Swinthorpe!”
He strode past his uncle, shouldering into him on purpose as he went further into the house. It was a house he knew almost as well as his own, but he had no idea where Amelia might be. He gritted his teeth—there was nothing for it.
“Amelia!” he called out, his voice ringing from the walls, “Amelia! It is Keaton!”
The sound of a commotion reached him from deeper inside the house.
“Your Grace?” Amelia's dainty voice emanated from the doorway to his uncle's study.
Keaton walked towards her briskly.
“Come with me, Amelia. We will go to Georgia together.”
“My father is here…”
“And as I told my uncle, you are under my protection. Do you wish to return home with your father?”
“No!” Amelia cried, instinctively.
“Well then. I offer you my house as a sanctuary.”
“That will not be necessary, Your Grace,” Keaton recognized the voice of Lord Silverton, “my daughter is my ward. She cannot—”
“If you are about to say she cannot choose her own destiny, think again. She has expressed the desire not to return to your house. That is enough for me. If you wish to press the matter, I will see you in court, and you will run out of money pursuing the case before I do, I can assure you of that.”
He offered his arm to Amelia and felt her take it. He turned smartly and began striding back towards the front door.
“This is the second time you have tried to interfere with my plans!” Lord Emsworth suddenly announced his presence.
Keaton halted, listening to the rapid footfalls approaching him from behind.
“If I stood at the centre of a clock dial, what hour would Lord Emsworth be approaching me from?” he whispered to Amelia.
“…Seven?” Amelia whispered back.
Keaton listened to the rapid cadence of shoes upon the hard floor of Edric's hall. Judged distance and direction. Waited.
A heavy hand fell upon his left shoulder. Keaton whirled, raising a hand, knocking the grip aside, and lashing out with a fist. It connected to what Keaton had thought would be Emsworth's jaw. He missed and felt, instead, the unmistakable crunch of a nose.
Emsworth howled, voice muffled. Keaton heard him thud to the floor.
“Do not get up on my account,” Keaton grunted, turning away.
“How can you put this family and its name at risk for a woman you barely know!” Edric snapped suddenly, rushing toward Keaton, “Were I Duke—”
“Alas, you are not. You are Lord of Swinthorpe, a Viscount, younger brother to my father, and in no way heir to Westvale,” Keaton said, coldly.
“I was heir after my brother until he had you!” Edric shouted scornfully, “And when you lost your sight...”
Keaton arched a brow. “What? Was I unworthy to bear the title?”
Edric took a deep breath. “No, of course not, Your Grace. I have always been loyal to Westvale. Even in my brother's time.”
“This is not loyalty, Uncle,” Keaton said in a whisper.
He spun away. The sound of Thorne running across the gravel ahead gave him pause. This time, it was Edric who caught Keaton's arm.
“Where are you going?” he demanded, desperate.
Keaton swung his cane into his uncle’s breastbone, anger flaring bright and hot. “You arranged for my carriage to be intercepted, but a young hero interrupted your plan, and it cost him his life. Elias Roseton, brother of my soon-to-be wife. There was no accident, was there?”
Edric was silent for a long moment. Keaton could feel his shock.
“It was Major Billy Glasgow...” he began uncertainly, “who has never been brought to justice. I did not want you to waste your life in a pointless quest to—”
“It was not! I have spoken to the man. He found your hired men setting light to the carriage in which I rode. Destroying the evidence. Deny it and I will strike you down, Swinthorpe!” Keaton roared, facing his uncle, dropping his cane and seizing his lapels, before hauling him to the tips of his toes.
Strangled sounds croaked from his uncle as Keaton's grip switched to his throat.
“You were not fit to be Duke. You were too weak! Damn you, you are still too weak! You've let that woman wrap you around her little finger, her and her damnable family!”
Keaton felt an overwhelming release at the confession. He released Edric, letting him stumble to the wooden flooring. Bending down, he took up his cane, then turned and strode towards the carriage.
“Don't turn your back on me, boy!” Edric roared from on the floor.
“The pistol is loaded, Lord Swinthorpe,” Thorne stated calmly, “and I am an excellent shot.”
Keaton did not break stride. He ushered Amelia into the carriage and then ascended himself.
“Paddington Lodge,” he ordered, “and keep your eyes peeled. I fear some dark work is underway and Georgia is already at the heart of it.”