Chapter Fourteen

Morning came with nothing but exhaustion and a heavy mind. Michael stared at his untouched plate, fork clinking against the plate. At this rate, he was beginning to realise that Elaine had infiltrated every corner of his mind. The memory of her radiant smile lingered in his thoughts, her soft, expressive eyes dancing in the shadows of his restless sleep.

And he had nearly kissed her.

It was a slip of his mind, he knew. He’d lost himself to his basic desires when he found himself alone with her during the musicale last night. And yet, despite convincing himself that it was simply his male instincts taking over, he couldn’t believe that he had almost let it come in the way of his plan. He thought himself stronger than that.

But then, he hadn’t expected Elaine to be quite like how she was.

Beautiful, mesmerising, innocent, intoxicating. Last night, Michael hadn’t approached her because he needed to complete his plan. He did so because he wanted nothing more than to share her company again after so long apart.

Clarissa’s voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. “Michael, will you continue to involve Lady Elaine in your plan for revenge?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. “Yes,” he said, his voice steady, though unease coiled in his gut. Elaine was key to his strategy. He had made that clear. Without her, the past four years he had spent gathering information would be for nothing. The very thing that drove him all this time would be for nothing. He couldn’t very well give up on his quest simply because he was growing fonder of Elaine than he thought he would.

Michael ignored the twinge of guilt he felt at that.

Clarissa set her teacup down with a decisive clink, her expression shifting from concern to irritation. “Why must you be so stubborn?”

“I could ask you the same thing, seeing as I told you to leave this matter be.”

“I cannot. I like Lady Elaine and this plan of yours is bound to have a greater effect on others than you first thought.”

The heat in her voice gave him pause. Michael frowned at his sister. “What are you implying?”

Clarissa’s cheeks coloured but she maintained her frustrated frown. “You must see, Michael, that this game you are playing may have consequences beyond your imagination. It could very well affect my chances with Lord Abney.” Her voice softened as if revealing a delicate secret. “I am beginning to like him.”

For a moment, Michael was taken aback. Like him? The family of the enemy? Was she insane? “When did this happen?”

“It does not matter, does it?” she pressed. “What matters is that I have grown quite fond of his company and it is my hope that he shares my feelings.

“And what of my plans? You cannot expect me to abandon them simply because you are flirting with the idea of a match.”

“It is not just flirting!” Clarissa shot back, her cheeks flushed with indignation. “Lord Abney is a good man, and I would not have my reputation sullied by your reckless intentions. If you persist, the fallout could be disastrous for both of us.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms, the tension radiating from her evident in the way she leaned forward. “And if I do not pursue this course, then what? I simply allow the injustices of society to continue? I cannot stand idly by while those who wronged us go unpunished.”

Clarissa’s eyes burned with intensity, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver through him. “But at what cost, Michael? The last thing I want is for you to risk losing everything in this insane quest of yours. Surely you do not wish to sacrifice the family you have left for a fleeting sense of vindication?”

Michael turned to the window, staring listlessly into the grass of the garden outside. Her words struck something in him, a flicker of doubt starting to take root. He hadn’t doubted himself from the moment his father was wrongfully convicted. Michael knew that he had to do whatever it took to set things straight.

But now, he wasn’t so sure. Now he wondered if he might only be making things worse, if he may be taking two steps backwards rather than moving on.

He desperately clung to his conviction, still feeling Clarissa’s eyes on him. “You do not understand, Clarissa. It is not merely revenge. It is about reclaiming my dignity, my—”

“Your humanity?” she interrupted, her tone softer yet unyielding. She reached forward to grasp his hand. “This is not the Michael I once knew. My older brother would never let himself be at risk of being consumed by shadows. And I know that is not who you truly want to be.”

Her plea echoed in his mind, and for a fleeting moment, he envisioned a future unfettered by vengeance. A future where he could let go of the pain that had fueled him for so long. But Michael let the thought be quickly swallowed by the anger that had become a part of him.

“What do you propose, then?” he asked, frustration lacing his words.

“Let go of this vendetta, Michael,” Clarissa pleaded. “Allow yourself to focus on all you do have, rather than what you have lost. And you should allow yourself to truly give in to your feelings for Lady Elaine.”

“I feel nothing for her. She is a means to an end.”

“You are lying to yourself. I watched you last night and the man I saw was not focused on vengeance. I cannot recall the last time you had smiled with such abandonment.”

“That was the point, Clarissa. I was putting on an act, trying to get Lady Elaine to relax so that I may infiltrate her memories.”

Clarissa shook her head sadly. “I wish you could see what I do.”

Her words lingered in the air. He could not abandon his quest. Not now. Not when he had gotten so close to its conclusion. Not when he could finally lay to rest the incessant anger that simmered deep within him.

“And if I cannot let it go, Clarissa? What if I still wish to pursue my course?”

Clarissa sighed. “Then I hope you know that you may be doing so at a grave cost. A cost you may not be so willing to pay. For the both of us.”

Silence met her last words. Michael felt the weight of her eyes on him but he ignored her, far too many uncharted emotions washing over him at once. He was torn and he hated it. He hated that Clarissa had watered the seed of doubt in his mind. He hated that he may not be able to give his father the justice he deserved and bring the wrongdoers the justice they did as well.

And he hated that, throughout it all, he thought of Elaine and how his quest for revenge may ruin what little balance she had left in her life.

***

Later that morning, Elaine made her way through the sunlit drawing room, her mind clouded with lingering thoughts of the duke. She held her father by his elbow as he guided him towards his spot by the window, hating the way he winced in pain with every step. Once he settled into the chair, giving her that pitiful look she was growing to dislike, she draped a shawl over his shoulders. She wouldn’t ask him what was wrong any more. Edward always gave her more questions than answers when she did.

She needed an escape. The moment he was settled, his eyelids growing heavy once more, Elaine slipped away to the pianoforte on the other side of the room.

Music filled the room, her fingers flying over the keys as the notes soothed her troubled mind. Elaine closed her eyes and let every chord resonate with her, let it replace the doubt and uncertainty that had been plaguing her all morning. She began to rock back and forth, the world forgotten around her.

A sharp knock on the door jolted her back to reality. Paul entered as she cut her playing short. Elaine shot to her feet, herheart hammering against her chest, expecting to tell her that she had a visitor.

But…“Lord Abney has arrived, Miss Elaine.”

Elaine sighed softly, returning to her chair by the pianoforte. She began her playing once more as the door swung open, and James entered, his face as hard as ever. Elaine watched as he approached her slowly as if gauging the atmosphere before speaking.

“Elaine,” he began, his tone low and urgent. “Are you well?”

“Quite so,” she answered, turning her eyes back to the keys.

“And what of Uncle Edward?”

Elaine paused for a moment, then continued. “He has been better. He is sleeping far more often lately.”

“I see.” James was hovering, walking back and forth. Elaine tried to ignore him. “I have been meaning to speak with you about the Duke of Ryewood.”

Elaine’s heart skipped a beat. She tried not to glance at the clock, though she knew very well that it was approaching the fashionable time for a caller. Would the duke show uptoday? “What about the duke?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

James didn’t stop his pacing, arms crossed. “There are whispers, as I’m sure you know, in certain circles. Rumours about the Rycroft family’s past—about Michael’s reputation for ruthlessness. And the apple certainly had not fallen far from the tree, if you know anything about what his father had done. And when I see you speaking with the duke, I cannot help but worry for you.”

Elaine let her hands fall into her lap, her racing heart echoing James’ warning. “Do you know exactly what he and his family has done? Or are you simply repeating that he is of ill-reputation without knowing the reason why?”

James frowned. “Is that not reason enough?”

“Not for me,” she insisted. She knew of the rumors clinging to Michael’s name but no one seemed willing to speak anything aloud. How could she ignore the kindness and laughter he had shown her simply because others said that he was not to be trusted?

“I am certain it is simply a misunderstanding,” Elaine said as calmly as she could muster. “He is not what you think. I do not doubt that there is a complicated matter surrounding the duke but it should not matter if he has a good heart.”

“Complicated?” James echoed, his brows knitting together. “Elaine, I know that you may feel drawn to him, but surely you must have considered the consequences of being attached to his name? It may very well ruin your chances at a good match. For your own happiness—”

“You cannot tell me what will make me happy,” she snapped. “Only I can.”

James sighed impatiently. “I only want what is best for you.”

“I know.” She tried to calm herself but it was hard. “I want what is best for you as well. I saw you with Lady Clarissa. It is easy to see that you desire her.”

Elaine didn’t think she would ever witness a blushing James and yet there he was, blinking rapidly at her as if he hadn’t a clue how to process what she’d just said. It was enough to make her smile for the first time that morning.

“James?” she probed, tilting her head to the side. “Has a cat gotten your tongue?”

“I do not know—” He was interrupted by the butler’s reentrance to the drawing room.

“Lord Weatherby has come to call on you, my lady,” he announced.

Elaine stood as her heart sank to the floor. Not the duke but Lord Weatherby of all people. She couldn’t resummon her smile no matter how hard she tried.

The door swung open and Lord Weatherby bustled in with his cane, wiping his sweaty face with his handkerchief with nothing but nervous energy. He gave her a genial smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes as he said, “Ah, Lady Elaine! What a pleasure to see you again!”

She curtsied. “My lord,” she greeted. “What brings you by today?”

“To see you, of course. And it is a good thing Lord Abney is here as well. That way I only need to speak once.”

Elaine met James’ eyes, her throat growing thick with fear at what was to come. “Is there something you wished to speak with us about, my lord?” James asked.

“Yes, yes. I think I have waited for far too long.” His stubby fingers fumbled with his cravat and he kept wiping his face. “If I am being honest, I have been considering the merits of a match between us, Lady Elaine. And I believe that such an alliance would certainly prove advantageous to us both. A rather sensible arrangement, would you not agree?”

The floor nearly gave way beneath her. Elaine clasped her hands so tightly behind her she began to lose feeling in her fingers. Discomfort washed over her, prickling her skin with the weight of what he was saying. “My lord, I…I appreciate your thoughts, truly, but—” She glanced helplessly at James, but her cousin was too busy staring at the baron as if he was trying to understand something.

Before she could continue, Paul returned to interrupt them one more time. Relief washed over her like a cool breeze he announced, “The Duke of Ryewood is here to see you, my lady.”

Something shifted in the room the moment Michael entered. His commanding and confident presence overwhelmed Lord Weatherby’s lacking one. Elaine had half a mind to throw her arms around him and sob in relief for his timely appearance.

He paid Lord Weatherby scant regard as he approached Elaine. “My lady. Lord Abney. I hope I am not interrupting.”

“You are not, my lord,” Elaine said quickly.

Michael raised a brow at that, looking at Lord Weatherby.

“I was just about to take my leave,” Lord Weatherby said, fumbling with his handkerchief. Elaine sighed in relief as he walked slowly out of the room with only a fleeting look over his shoulder.

Michael paid him no mind. “Elaine,” he said, his smile warm. The sight erased all her lingering discomfort. “I was hoping you might join me for the promenade hour later today.”

“Yes!” she said too quickly. Face washing with heat, she tried again. “I would like that.”

“Clarissa will be accompanying us as well,” he added, and after a moment’s hesitation, turned to James, “Would you care to join us too?”

James’s expression shifted, scepticism flaring in his eyes, but he managed a polite nod. “Of course, though I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Elaine’s gaze flickered to James, noting that he wore an expression of skepticism and she wondered what he was thinking. She could sense the protective instincts threatening to overtake him, his worry for her palpable thing standing in between him and the duke. Even when he nodded politely, his posture remained stiff.

If Michael noticed it, he didn’t show. His attention was back on Elaine, his gaze warm. “I look forward to seeing you later, then,” he said, his voice laced with an eagerness that mirrored her own anticipation.

He reached out to take her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. Elaine struggled to keep herself upright, her knees threatening to give way on her. It didn’t feel as if she was in control of her body when he straightened and smiled at her, her returning grin stretching across her face with ease. Then he straightened, nodding respectfully at James, and turned to leave. Elaine watched him go, her heart thundering in her chest.

Once he was gone, she went back to the pianoforte, a far livelier tune on the tips of her fingers. She didn’t pay James any mind when he sighed and went to sit down, reaching for the Times.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she heard him say.

She most certainly didn’t. But for once, she did not care.