Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A s far as surprises went, Graham decided that a not-unfortunate-looking lady appearing in his bed in the night was not the worst.

Not until he realized who it was at least.

In truth, he did not hate the girl. He pitied her a great deal, if anything, because he was all too aware of who had been behind her appearance at the party. It was not even her father though he would never have turned it down. No, it was Oliver.

"It shall be fun," Oliver had assured him. "Once you get past the existence of the Earl, you will find that his daughter is quite remarkable."

Remarkable. Graham had scoffed at it though he knew he would have been lying if he said that she was not at least pretty. He found himself looking at her a few times over the course of the evening, each time noticing how her hazel eyes complimented her freckles. It was a foolish thing to notice on a lady, especially when all she seemed to do was scowl at him, but he could not help himself. If anything, her ability to hold his gaze only made him want to look at her more.

Which was likely to be exactly what she wanted.

Again, he could not blame her for that. He had not exactly been kind to her, and he hoped in return that she would not blame him. The Earl had a reputation that clearly preceded him. He was constantly trying to find a way to get ahead though it was unclear why exactly. He was also always drunk which had caused Graham to smirk at her when he saw her drunk herself. It was a strange sight, a lady being escorted to bed by her father, and what was even stranger was the discussion he had with her father when he returned.

"You must forgive my daughter, Your Grace," he had said. "She has taken ill."

"To be sure," Graham nodded. "Perhaps it is simply all of the excitement of today?"

He did not know why he was giving her grace. It would have been reason enough to have them leave immediately as they were not fit to be houseguests, but he did not tell Oliver about it. Graham decided that it was simply because he had already complained to him about the two of them, and Oliver had refused to hear it. They were his friends whether Graham liked it or not.

And he certainly did not.

"You must know," the Earl continued, "that my daughter is a respectable young lady. She is highly intelligent, and I am not saying that simply because I am her father. I am also not saying it because I wish to marry her off."

But he had said that last part too quickly for Graham to truly believe him.

"Of course not," he replied through gritted teeth. "Regardless, she shall show who she is herself in time."

"I simply wish that my son could have been in attendance tonight," he sighed, as if not even listening. "He is in Scotland, but he will be making his way here soon enough. You ought to meet him."

"Yes, should the opportunity arise."

Graham was quite aware that such an opportunity would mysteriously never present itself. No fault on his part, of course, simply that there would be too many things to do for Graham to ever be free to meet him.

"He truly is my pride and joy. My heir. He will bring such honor to my family. There are people that think I am too forceful in my talking about him, but you will understand when you have an heir of your own just how important they are. They overshadow everything."

Graham truly hated the man.

"To be sure. Now, might we return to the others?"

"Yes, I believe that would be prudent. Perhaps they would also like to meet my boy?"

At last, when they were in the room, the Earl turned his attention to anyone that would listen to him talk about his wonderful son or at least those polite enough not to tell him to stop. A few hours later, it was time for bed, and Graham felt fortunate that he had not been confronted with him a second time.

He tried to be patient, though, as far as his daughter was concerned. He knew that she had overindulged that evening and that she did not know what she was doing or saying, but he was so aggravated by her. It was not entirely her fault, he had to admit, but there was nothing more that he could say about that. It would simply be for the best that they kept their distance from one another to avoid any further unpleasant meetings.

Then Lady Samantha appeared in his bed and somehow believed him to be the one at fault for that.

Graham found himself sleeping quite comfortably in her presence, not that he wanted to, of course, but after their dispute and her leaving, he could not help but feel as though his bed was colder. By morning, he was certain that their reputations would be in tatters, and they would be the topic of conversation for the rest of their stay, but when he dressed and went to breakfast, there was nothing.

Nobody said a word to him at all — with the exception of Lady Penelope, that was.

"You seem brighter than usual," she said brightly. "Did you enjoy your night?"

He froze, eyeing her carefully. She was not a malicious lady, simply Oliver's spinster cousin of four and thirty, but she did have an alarming talent for knowing everything about everyone, himself included.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Graham," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "I mean that there was a party last night, and that you were there, and now, you have awoken in good spirits. That is all that was meant, fear not."

"My apologies, Pen," he sighed.

" Is there something I should be interrogating you about?" she asked, half concerned and half excited.

She certainly was more like an older sister to him though he could never say to her face that she was older than him. At least, she wanted what was best for him which not many others had ever done. Even so, he could not tell her what had happened with Lady Samantha; it was far too dangerous and would only lead to word getting out, and the poor girl being ruined.

Graham cared only due to his honor, of course.

"Well?" she asked, and he blinked at her.

"No," he replied rather too quickly to be convincing. "When have I ever needed to confess something to you?"

"I did not ask for a confession. I asked if there was something that I needed to ask you about."

"Well, there is no need for that either. It is as you said; it was a wonderful evening, and there shall be another tonight, and then soon enough, all of this will be over, and I can return home."

"You do not mean that. You adore Oliver's parties."

"More often than not, yes, but not in the presence of them. "

"Nicholas and Emma are not completely insufferable."

Graham stifled a laugh. His brother and the wretched lady he was courting were not who he had been referring to, but he understood completely why Penelope might have thought that.

"Besides," she continued, "it is not as though they are the only ones here. Why, I found Lady Samantha to be rather lovely last night. She was quite timid, I thought, but she soon opened up."

"She is awful."

He did not mean it, and he did not know why he had said it. It was a cruel thing to say about someone, and it was not even true if he were honest with himself.

"You cannot simply say that about a young lady because she did not care for your advances, Graham."

"What advances? What have you heard?"

Once more, he had leaped onto the defensive, and he did not know why because Penelope clearly did not know what he was so concerned about. This time, however, instead of only being half excited, she seemed fully immersed in whatever it was that he was hiding.

"I only ever heard what is told to me," she sighed with a smile, "and so perhaps you might wish to tell me yourself?"

"There is nothing to tell."

"You are not being honest with me, and you ought to. I always uncover the truth, you know."

"I know that perfectly well," he grumbled, "which is why I am telling you with full honesty that there is nothing to say."

"Very well," she laughed, "but I know what I saw. You came to breakfast differently today. I have never seen you look like that. So, when you feel willing and able to talk to one of your closest friends, you know where I shall be."

She left the room, and at last, Graham allowed himself to chuckle. She was right about everything, and he knew that her not knowing the truth would eat away at her, but he was grateful for her, nonetheless. Those that knew Graham at all were very few and far between, and Penelope had at least been good enough to him that his tendencies to jump to dislike did not scare her off.

But he would not tell her about it. He could not, and he apologized to her in his mind for it because she did not deserve his deception, but he had to prioritize the fate of the young lady that could be ruined by what had transpired the previous night.

Whether it had been accidental or not, Lady Samantha was a person, and she deserved more than ruin. More than her father's anger at her ruin, anyway.

At least, he decided, the gardens would be quieter than it had been inside the house. Those in attendance were not particularly enamored by nature, and so he felt quite safe venturing outside to spend some time alone with his thoughts and nothing else. For the briefest of moments, he could simply be Graham, and that was exactly what he required.

"Oh! Good morning, Your Grace," a small voice came as he stepped out of the door.

There she was once more, showing up to ruin his day. He was about to turn away, but then he saw her face.

It was streaked with tears.

"Lady Samantha?" he asked. "What is it?"

She seemed to look behind him, as if looking for someone, and she winced in the light.

"Tell me!" he ordered, and she covered her ears and closed her eyes.

"Please do not raise your voice," she whimpered. "It hurts."

"What hurts?" he asked, in the gentlest voice that he could muster.

He did not wish to play a guessing game all day with her, but she seemed so completely ill at ease that there didn't seem to be any other choice.

"My head," she whispered, "and my eyes. God, was the sun always this bright?"

At last, it all made more sense.

"Ah, you certainly did have your fill last night," he laughed gently. "It is quite normal, especially after your first drink."

"It will not be forever, will it?"

"Heavens, no. No, it will only be until tomorrow or so. You might even feel better by this evening, and then you can have another drink."

"I shall not drink again for as long as I live," she sighed. "I truly do not know how my father —"

She froze. Graham froze. He had made his assumptions about the Earl, but after he had proven himself to be judgmental of the two of them right out of the gate, it was not as though he could continue to make accusations.

"How my father managed to escort me to my bed chambers last night," she finished at last though it was certainly not what she had wished to say.

"Is that all that is bothering you?" he asked. "Only, it is quite clear to me that you have been crying."

"It is only because of my condition," she replied with yet another glance around.

"Are you quite sure?"

She leaned in towards him suddenly, wincing as she did so, and whispered something that he could not hear.

"What was that?" he asked. "You were too quiet."

"Because nobody can hear!" she hissed. "Were you followed?"

"No, not that I am aware of, and with how loud each guest here is when they choose to be, I am quite sure that I would have known if I was."

She steadied her breathing and took a step back, her eyes closed gently. When she looked back up at him, he already knew what she was going to say.

"We were seen, weren't we?"

"Or heard," she sighed. "I do not know which, not that it matters."

"By whom? I can speak with them and have the matter dealt with, do not worry."

"I thought you might suggest that, but therein lies the issue. I do not know."

"How do you not know?"

"I found this letter in my room. It must have been slipped under the door while I… was not in there."

She handed him a note, and he read it more intently than he had ever read anything in his life. It was spiteful and frightening, and it had clearly worked well on Lady Samantha. Had things been different, he might have accused her of forging it herself, pretending to blackmail him, but he knew better than that by now.

Was he wholly convinced that it was not her? No, but that would come to him in time if it were the case. For the moment, she was clearly frightened by her circumstances rather than triumphant at having ensnared a duke. She quite evidently did not want him to be her husband, which was just as well as far as he was concerned.

"It was not me, if that is what you are thinking."

"Of course, I am not."

He couldn't help but laugh. She seemed to see through him quite well, and whilst he did not particularly like it, he had to admit that it was something quite interesting about her.

"Yes, you are," she replied, laughing herself. "Your Grace, I can understand how it looks, but I assure you that I have no interest in being your wife. I do not wish to be anyone's wife. I have other plans for myself, ones that nobody else seems to understand."

"Believe me, I understand your sort."

"My sort?"

"No! I do not mean it like that. I mean more — you must have met Lady Penelope last night?"

"I might have. I do not recall anything much at all if I am honest."

"You shall see her tonight. Speak with her. I believe the two of you have quite a lot in common."

"Which would be wonderful so long as it was not her that has decided to ruin me."

"Do you know who it might have been?"

"No," she whispered. "I know what you think of me. I know what you all think of me, but I never would have thought that someone amongst you could do this. I truly did not expect it.

"Well, the cruelty certainly isn't out of character, but them covering it up is."

"Might you know who it was?" she asked. "You know those here far better than I."

"No," he replied, "but fear not. I intend to find out, and we shall have the matter dealt with. No harm will be done to you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," she whispered, and in spite of himself, he could not help but give her a nod and a smile.

"There is no need to thank me. It is my duty to protect a lady."

She seemed grateful for his promise, but she must have known that it was for himself, too. He did not wish to marry her any more than she did him, and so he needed to do what must be done — find the person threatening her.

And he knew exactly who to speak to first.

Graham had never liked his brother. Granted, he had three brothers, and he could not honestly say that he particularly liked any of them, but there was none more irritating than Nicholas. He was always the one to feed into what their dad wanted the most, and it had seemingly worked.

That was, until it didn't. In spite of the threats and the fights and the bad blood between them all, Graham had still been made duke when all was said and done. Neither brother, frankly, had been too content with such an outcome, but Graham could not believe that Nicholas would react so terribly about it.

"Ah, if it isn't my dear oldest brother!" he chirped in the hallway.

It was too perfect as far as timing was concerned. In a more general sense, however, Graham preferred not to see him at all.

"It would appear that you and I need to speak with one another," he growled.

"It certainly does, doesn't it?" Nicholas smirked. "Though I must say, I hadn't intended for you to discover my secret quite so quickly."

"And what is that secret, might I ask?"

"I am sure that you would love to know, but all in good time. For now, I think it is best that you and I go somewhere a little more private."

"I think it is best that you remember your place here and act accordingly."

But Graham knew that Nicholas was right. He knew what his brother meant, and if he was to out himself so quickly, then it was for the best that it was behind closed doors so that Graham could control the damage with more ease.

It was simply his instinct to disagree with his brother.

"Brother, you should be thanking me," Nicholas sighed, "not that you have ever done that for anyone. I am doing you a favor."

"You are doing anything but that, and I think you know that."

"Very well, it is perhaps more so for my own benefit, but I have your interests in mind too. I am doing this for our family. I know that has never been a priority of yours, but then you never truly were a part of the family, were you?"

"Stop talking," he ordered. "I do not wish to hear another word from you. Is that clear?"

"If you insist, but it is certainly something you would want to know about in advance, believe me."

"Then out with it."

"I cannot possibly say, for I am following the orders of a duke. For now, at least."

"Truly, I never thought you had it in you to be this underhanded."

"You and I both know that is not true. Besides, what is a party without a little entertainment?"

Nicholas left Graham there, and he watched after him. Had it been a few mere years prior, he might have at last engaged in family tradition and used physical force to draw a confession from him, but it was not his way.

It had never been his way.