and his wife.”
Finley stared at her and finally understood. Her ladyship thought she’d machinated all of this to get into Griffin’s household. She believed Finley to be capable of throwing herself in front of a moving vehicle, risking injury to capture His Grace’s attention. Seeing Jack Dandy in her thoughts only solidified what Cordelia King-Ashworth already believed—that Finley was a liar, possibly a criminal and not to be trusted. That her being in that house was simply too much of a coincidence.
To be honest, Finley thought exactly the same thing. She’d never been much for believing in destiny or fate, but it certainly seemed as though she and Griffin had been connected long before they’d ever met.
“Yes,” she agreed, obviously surprising Lady Marsden. “We should visit my mother.” In truth, she’d rather stick pins in her eye. She didn’t want to hear what her mother had to say about the photograph and Thomas Sheppard, not because she thought her mother would lie, but because she was very much afraid of the truth.
Sam was sitting at the dining-room table, reading the paper and eating his usual breakfast of oatmeal, sausage, ham, eggs, fried potatoes, toast and coffee when Griffin walked in.
“Hello, Samuel,” Griff said, going to the sideboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Sam’s spine went rigid. Had Emily put metal in his back, too? he wondered bitterly, waiting for his friend to make some remark about it being closer to luncheon than breakfast time, or to ask what hour Sam had returned home. It was none of Griff’s business, and it wasn’t as though he ever felt the need to explain himself. Sam could come and go as he pleased, as well, but that didn’t change the little worm of guilt swimming uneasily in his stomach.
“Morning,” Sam replied somewhat gruffly.
“Did you sleep well?” the other boy inquired.
Here it came, thought Sam. An interrogation. “Yes.”
Griff nodded. “Excellent. Listen, Aunt Delia is back. She and I are taking Finley to visit her mother. Seems there may be a connection between Finley’s father and my parents.”
This was what he’d missed by being out late and sleeping the morning away. He knew there was more to Finley than they first thought, and now it seemed they were about to find out just what. Though he ought to thank her for taking Griffin’s attention off him.
“Do you need me to come along?”
“No need. Although, if Emily comes down, let her know what’s going on, will you?”
Emily. The thought of seeing her again filled him with a mix of eagerness and dread. He’d been so angry at her, so hurt and…well, he didn’t know what else. He was still angry, still hurt, but he knew he should apologize.
“I’ll tell her,” he said, noticing that Griff had been watching him, waiting for a reply.
His old friend smiled. To Sam, Griffin looked relieved. “Thank you. And, Sam?”
He had lifted his fork in an attempt to resume his rapidly cooling breakfast, and gritted his teeth as he raised his head once more. “What?”
The smile, and the relief were gone. All that he saw was Griff’s unapologetic face. “I told Emily to do whatever necessary to save your life. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, it should be me.”
Too stunned to say anything, Sam just sat there in stupefied silence. Coffee in hand, Griff left the room without a backward glance and all Sam could do was watch him go as betrayal and anger ignited in his gut and slowly set him ablaze.
Were he not so bloody hungry, he would have thrown his plate, but someone would have to clean that up. Instead, he finished his breakfast. Then, he got up and went to Griff’s study. He stood there, in the room he’d spent so much time in during the course of his life, and looked for something to destroy that hadn’t belonged to the former duke, that was solely Griffin’s.
His gaze fell upon the Aether engine Emily had built so Griffin could access the Aether without becoming part of it. It was a testament to Emily’s brilliance and Griff’s power. If he ruined it, both of them would be hurt by it. Both of them would feel as he did at that very moment—betrayed, bewildered.
It would be so easy. The engine was right in front of him now. His mechanical arm would reduce the entire rig to rubble in seconds. All he had to do was make a fist and swing.
“I replaced your heart.” The words