Chapter Twenty

To think that her father’s laboured breathing would be the only thing capable of calming her mind. Elaine watched as he slept, undisturbed by the emotional turmoil of his daughter sitting at his bedside. It had been days since the dinner with Michael and his family, days since she had discovered his plan and called off the wedding. And this was the first time she could reflect on it without tears welling in her eyes.

Of course, it still felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest. Her eyes were still puffy from her nights crying herself to sleep and the only relief she felt was when she was tending to her father. He was a constant, steady and anchoring presence that kept her from slipping completely into despair.

Elaine blinked rapidly, fighting the tears burning the back of her eyes. Seeking to distract herself, she began tucking the covers around Edward’s frail body. When she was done, she moved to make sure he was not feverish.

Elaine gasped when she realised that he was no longer asleep. He was watching her steadily, eyes boring into her.

“Papa,” she breathed, sinking back into her chair. “I did not realise you had awoken.”

“How could I not when you fuss over my covers so?” he rasped then began struggling to sit up. Elaine rushed forward to help. She bit her lip, fighting another wave of tears when she realised just how much frailer he had become in the past few days. Was it because of her neglect? She’d been so caught up with the Season and the duke that she had left much of her father’s care to the maids. Was that the reason he seemed to have lost some weight?

Edward must have seen the guilt on her face because he reached out a trembling hand. Elaine reached out to grasp it. “What troubles you, my dear?” he asked.

Elaine forced a smile onto her face as she shook her head. “Nothing, Papa. I am just happy you are awake now. Perhaps I could read to you?”

“That is not the face of a happy person,” he remarked slowly. There was a pause and then, “I saw you with the Duke of Ryewood.”

Elaine’s heart skipped a beat. Of all the places, she hadn’t expected Michael to be mentioned here. “That’s right, you did,” she breathed. “That day in the gardens.”

“Have you two become friends?”

Elaine lowered her eyes. There was so much her father didn’t know and she suddenly felt bad for keeping him in the dark. “He…was. But then we were betrothed.”

Edward’s eyes flared. “Betrothed?”

“It is over now. The wedding was meant to be a few days ago but…” Guilt pulled the truth to her lips and all of a sudden, she was apologising. “Forgive me, Pa. I should have told you sooner.”

“It is all right, my dear,” he assured her, resting another frail and shaky hand atop hers. “My condition keeps me asleep most of the day, you would hardly have a chance to tell me. I am not angry with you. I am simply…surprised.”

“Surprised?” she echoed. “Why?”

“The Duke of Ryewood…do you know his past?”

Slowly, Elaine shook her head. “I know he was involved in a scandal, but I do not know what it entailed.”

“And yet you agreed to marry him?”

“I did not have a—” She broke off, then tried again. “I fell in love with him. It did not matter.” Elaine wiped a stray tear, gathering her strength. “But it was not meant to be. It seemed His Grace had more pressing matters on his mind and…well, I shall find another suitor so—Papa, why are you crying?”

“I have failed you, my daughter.” He squeezed her hands, tears rolling down his face, eyes filled with despair and regret. “I failed this family.”

“Pa, don’t talk like that!”

“You are so oblivious to the truth, Elaine. You do not understand anything.”

“How can I possibly understand anything when no one deems it fit to enlighten me?”

The tears kept coming. Sobs hitched in his throat. Elaine stood, worry replacing everything else.

“Pa, you can explain it later, when you are calmer.”

“I must tell you now,” he tried to get out. He attempted to resist her efforts to tuck him back under the covers but it was futile. “I have held on to this for long enough.”

“You have tired yourself out. Rest for a while and when you awaken, you may tell me everything.”

Elaine saw the struggle on his face, fighting the exhaustion that had clearly come over him. She hated to see him upset like this. Not only did it break her heart, but it only lessened their time together because it always tired him out. It may be hours before she gets the chance to talk with him again.

Fatigue ultimately overcame him, and Edward fell into a deep slumber. As soon as it did, that heavy weight of sadness fell over her once more. Elaine struggled to keep it at bay but her father’s last few words had only made it worse.

Was everyone keeping something from her?

***

“Where are you headed?”

Michael drew to a halt at Clarissa’s appearance. She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look, not moving from the threshold of his study. He tried not to sigh.

“I shall be back shortly,” he answered noncommittally, attempting to step around her. But she didn’t move.

“I hope that means you are going to Suthenshire House,” she said. “It has been days and you have been holed up in your office ever since.”

“That is because I had things to do,” he explained as calmly as he could. Right now, Clarissa stood between him and the conclusion of his four-year investigation and he was seriously considering removing her by force.

“Are you still plotting your revenge?” she asked with wide eyes. “Michael, haven’t you learned your lesson?”

He’d learned enough to last him a lifetime. He knew the truth of everything now. The truth in Clarissa’s warnings, the truth of what happened four years ago, the truth of his heart. He’d spent days without leaving his office, crossed between berating himself and seeing it through to the end. And he came to realise that he couldn’t possibly give himself fully to Elaine if he still had this hanging over his head. He had to lay it to rest. He had to make sure it was set aside so that there was nothing standing between him and the lady he loved.

And he loved her. With all his heart and soul, he was deeply in love with Elaine. And he hated himself for how long it took him to realise that.

“I understand your worry,” he said to his sister. “And because of what happened, I am committed to putting this all behind me. I poured over everything I had and found a clue that I missed. I intend to settle this right now.”

“And then?” Clarissa asked, raising a brow.

“And then, I shall mend things with the woman I love.”

Her frown finally cracked into a smile and she stepped out of the way. “May I accompany you when you do?” she asked. “There is something I need to do as well.”

Michael would have questioned her about it if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. Instead, he pressed a chaste kiss on her temple. “I’m sorry, Clarissa. For everything.”

“You were already forgiven, Michael. Now go and win her back.”

He nodded seriously and hurried out the door. He knew there was a chance that all was lost. The hurt he had caused Elaine may never be remedied. She may never trust him again. He might have ruined the only chance he had at true love.

But he wasn’t going to listen to those thoughts. He had to focus on his current course of action first.

Nearly thirty minutes later, his carriage pulled up to the modest house of Mr. Thomas Plauser. Mr. Plauser had no clue Michael was coming. Michael suddenly realised that he might not even be home.

He trudged up to the front door and knocked. Then waited. After a minute, he moved to knock again when a middle-aged man opened the door, blinking in surprise.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“Are you Mr. Plauser?”

Wariness filled the man’s eyes. “Yes, I am. Who are you?”

“I am Michael Rycroft, Duke of Ryewood. May I speak with you?”

Mr. Plauser’s eyes went wide. “Your Grace, of course. Come in, come in!”

Michael let himself be ushered into the small foyer and then to a sitting room to the left. It was small and quaint, but there was not much room for Michael’s long legs as he claimed the sofa. Mr. Plauser, now flustered, sat on the opposite armchair.

“Oh, I should offer you tea!” Mr. Plauser said suddenly, shooting to his feet.

“There’s no need,” Michael said quickly. “I shan’t be long. I only wished to ask you a few questions, so I hope you will be kind enough to indulge me.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Michael pulled out the sheet of paper he had brought with him. When he’d first received it four years ago, a list of higher servants who worked for those who had testified against his father. In passing, he’d received a few for Lord Grovington but had dismissed it as unnecessary. After all, Lord Grovington had not testified nor had there been any indication that he was involved at all. Michael had been so focused on Lord Suthenshire that he hadn’t remembered that he’d received the information of Lord Grovington’s former clerk.

“I believe you worked for the Marquess of Grovington in the past, haven’t you?” Michael began. “What can you tell me about him?”

Mr. Plauser frowned. “May I ask what this is about, Your Grace?”

“I shall be frank with you, Mr. Plauser. The former Duke of Ryewood was wrongfully convicted for treason four years ago and I have been searching for evidence to prove it. Now, I have reason to believe that Lord Grovington may have been involved, though I cannot pinpoint how.”

“Oh. Yes. The late Duke of Ryewood. I do recall his trial, as speedy as it was.”

There was something in the man’s tone that made Michael sit up straighter. “Were you interested in the trial, Mr. Plauser?”

Mr. Plauser fidgeted with his hands, his brow sweaty. “I was. I was given little choice considering the fact that Lord Grovington used me to gather information on the outcome of the trial.”

“Why wouldn’t he do so himself? He was a part of the House of Lords and so no one would find it suspicious.”

“He wanted to remove himself from the matter completely.” With shaky fingers, Mr. Plauser reached into his waistcoat and fished out a handkerchief, dabbing his forehead. “I knew this day would come.”

“Do you know something, Mr. Plauser?”

“I know far too much,” he sputtered. “Lord Grovington gave me a hefty sum to make sure I was quiet but the guilt was too much for me, so I resigned. Had I known that my involvement would have led to the conviction of an innocent man and his death, I would never have let him use me.”

Michael gripped the armrest to keep his emotions at bay, blood roaring in his ears. “Please tell me what you know, Mr. Plauser.”

Mr. Plauser licked his lips. And then he broke. He told him everything, every sordid detail, every missing piece that now made the puzzle whole. By the time he was finished, Michael was filled with hatred for the marquess and anger at himself for not realising his involvement sooner. But there was still time to set things right.

“Thank you, Mr. Plauser.” Michael stood. “Your honesty will help liberate an innocent man’s name.”

Mr. Plauser shot to his feet. “Forgive me, Your Grace. Had I known the implications of my actions, I never would have done it. I swear to you.”

“I am not angry with you,” Michael assured him. “It is Lord Grovington I have my qualms with.”

Mr. Plauser did not seem convinced by that and followed Michael to the door sputtering his apology. Michael was barely able to convince him that he did not have any intention of acting against him. His attention was on one person.

Elaine lingered in the back of his head. Before coming to London, he’d wanted the truth for the sake of him and his family. Now, he needed the truth for her as well. To finally put aside the insane need to bring justice to light and give himself to her. And when he brought the truth to her, he would do so completely.

Another hour and two important stops later, Michael learned that the Marquess of Grovington was in his office and would see him shortly. So he was ushered to wait for him in the grand drawing room that betrayed the marquess’ overwhelming wealth. Bitterness bled through Michael as he took in his surroundings, wondering just how much of this had been earned by his father’s downfall.

“Your Grace!” Lady Isabella swept into the room with a broad grin and her lady’s maiden on her heels. “How lovely of you to visit!”

“I am not here to see you, my lady,” he stated curtly. “It is your father I wish to speak with.”

Lady Isabella was not perturbed by his coldness. She came closer, batting her eyelashes. “May I inquire what it is about?”

“No, you may not.”

Still, she was not snubbed. “If you wish to know, Your Grace, I have not accepted the affections of any other gentleman this Season. You are completely unopposed.”

Michael sighed heavily. He stared at her, wondering whether he should be blunt or let her down gently. Before he came to a conclusion, Lord Grovington walked into the room.

He bore an identical grin to his daughter, arms spread as if readying himself to embrace Michael. “Your Grace, I see you have come to your—”

“My lord, what was your involvement in the conviction of the late Duke of Ryewood?”

Lord Grovington froze, arms falling to his side. He frowned. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Answer the question, Lord Grovington.”

The marquess’ face distorted with rage. “You do not come into my home and demand such things of me. I shall have you forcibly removed!”

“You may do so,” Michael responded calmly, a miraculous feat considering the fact that his own fury was roaring through his body. “But I shall only return with the constables so you may as well save yourself the embarrassment and confess to your involvement now. Rest assured that I know enough to know if you are lying or not.”

“How dare you—!”

“No, how dare you!” Michael’s roar had Lady Isabella backing away from him in fright. He didn’t care. “I have spent years and years trying to prove that the Earl of Suthenshire had given a false testimony that led to my father’s wrongful conviction. He died a despairing and disgraced man and I harboured resentment and hate for the earl, making a promise to myself that I shall see justice served. Now I know that all that anger and hate should have been aimed at you, Lord Grovington.”

“You do not know what you are talking about,” Lord Grovington spat, his face going red. “You were young when it all happened.”

“I was old enough to know the truth. I was old enough to know that my father would never do the things you all accused him of.”

“My father would never do such things either!” Lady Isabella chimed in, but she squeezed in terror when Michael whirled on her.

“Lady Isabella, I suggest you leave or else you’re going to learn of all the terrible deeds your father committed all in the name of power.” Then he turned back to the seething marquess. “Do you truly think I would come here if I did not already know what I am accusing you of? Do you truly believe that I do not have the evidence and testimonies I need to convict you of your own crimes?”

That seemed to knock the wind out of the marquess’ sails and his face fell. “You are bluffing,” he pushed out.

“Dare me, Lord Grovington,” Michael growled. “And I swear, if you do not start confessing, I shall ensure that your name is dragged through the mud until there is nothing left of your legacy, until you suffer a worse fate than my father and my family ever did. Take my kindness, Lord Grovington, before it is too late.”

“Father?” Lady Isabella’s voice was barely above a whisper but it caught the marquess’ attention all the same. “Is this true?”

Lord Grovington looked back at Michael and then at his daughter. Michael crossed his arms, rage reverberating through his stance. For a moment, he thought the marquess was going to continue denying it. He prepared himself for it and even relished the thought of doing worse to the marquess than what had been done to his father.

But then, the marquess cracked. “Your father brought this upon himself!” he hissed, pointing a podgy, accusing finger at Michael. “He thought himself so high and mighty, simply because he was well-loved. One man did not deserve so much power and yet his influence grew by the day. He had to be knocked down a peg.”

“And you were the man to do it,” Michael concluded.

“Of course not! I would never sully my hands in such a manner. But there were more than enough people willing to undertake the dirty work in exchange for a little more prestige and wealth. Lord Suthenshire was simply foolish enough to lead the charge. Had he not had me telling him what to do, he would not have been able to pull it off.” Lord Grovington barked a laugh. “Idiots, the lot of them! Testifying against the late duke and lying right through their teeth.”

“You wanted to replace him,” Michael taunted. “You wanted the top spot and needed to get rid of my father to get it. You were envious of him.”

“I envy no one! I am the Marquess of Grovington!”

“And yet you would not have received half of your influence if you hadn’t gotten rid of my father first.”

Lord Grovington spluttered in his fury, hands opening and closing at his side. Michael remained calm as the marquess fell apart in front of him.

Then Lord Grovington barked a laugh. “Say what you want, Your Grace. No one will believe you. My reputation is impeccable while yours certainly leaves much to be desired.”

“You may be right about that,” Michael answered. “Even if I were to publish all I know, it will only implicate the Earl of Suthenshire while you remain unscathed. Which is why I ensured that your confession was heard by men of the law.”

“What do you—”

The door opened behind him. Michael watched with immense satisfaction as the marquess’ butler appeared wearing a fearful expression on his face. And behind him were two powerful names in the House of Lords—the Duke of Hainbury and the Earl of Lowely.

Michael had met with these men during his investigation years ago and, as men of honour who had not believed in the late duke’s conviction, had promised to aid Michael when the time came for him to reveal the truth. The time had come. The only difference was that he was at Lord Grovington’s residence rather than Suthenshire House.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Grovington roared.

“It should be quite simple,” said Lord Lowely in his slow manner of speaking. “His Grace brought us with him, stating that we were finally going to learn the truth of what happened four years ago. I must say, Lord Grovington, I should have known you were behind this.”

Lord Grovington whirled on Michael. “You tricked me!”

“Wrong, my lord.” Michael smiled a little. “I liberated you.”

“Nicely done, Your Grace,” said the Duke of Hainbury. “Now that we know the truth, Lord Grovington shall be brought before the House of Lords for his crimes. I assure you, he will not get away with it this time.”

Michael nodded. He made his way to the door, resisting the overwhelming urge to ram his fist into Lord Grovington’s stomach as he went by. It would have been satisfying but he was bigger than that.

“Thank you, Your Grace, my lord,” he said. “Finally, justice will be served.”

“You cannot do this to me! No one will believe you!”

Michael looked over his shoulder at the marquess. He was a pitiful thing, shaking in his rage and horror. “This is the end for you, my lord. You may as well say goodbye.”

The marquess might have thrown something at him in his departure but Michael was already out of the room. His steps felt lighter than ever, a perennial weight finally lifted from his shoulders.

Now, he only had one last thing to do.