who’d taken advantage of her good fortune. It no longer mattered that he was responsible for it. She’d thought he’d done it because he cared for her. As always he cared for only himself. And he’d found an easy way to put coins in his coffers.
He’d answer to her now.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the Duke of Wolfford’s residence.
“You needn’t accompany me inside,” she said to the maid serving as her chaperone. “I shan’t be long.”
Her footman climbed down, opened the door, lowered the steps, and extended his hand. Her righteous indignation shimmered through her as she disembarked and then marched up the wide stone stairs. At the door, she gave one solid rap with her gloved knuckles, not using the knocker because she needed that physical contact and was preparing her fist for its encounter with Griff’s nose.
The door opened, and the butler allowed her in. “Lady Kathryn, I’ll alert Lady Althea that you’re here.” His tone was that of someone in mourning.
“I’ve actually come to see Lord Griffith.”
“I’m afraid he’s not at home.”
Of course, he wasn’t. He was no doubt off spending his ill-gotten gains, the rotter.
“Then, yes, please, Lady Althea.” Her friend was going to be horrified by her brother’s actions.
Scarcely a couple of minutes passed before Althea was rushing toward her with red, swollen eyes, her hair untidy, her face pale and drawn. She was wringing a silk handkerchief between her hands, her brow deeply furrowed. “You’ve come. How did you know to come? Where did you hear of it? Is it all over London already?”
Kathryn shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not certain what you’re talking about. I came to speak with Griff about the damned wager he made regarding whom Kingsland would select.”
“Then you haven’t heard.”
“Haven’t heard what, precisely?”
“My father and brothers have been arrested for treason.”
Chapter 10
April 20, 1874
His breathing harsh, heavy, and labored, his heart pounding, he was running, running, yet he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. It was all an inky blackness, but beyond it . . . surely there was something beyond it—if he could only reach it. She was beyond it, if only he could reach her.
Suddenly he was in a room, sitting in a hard chair, his hands tied behind him, surrounded by shadows. Light shone down on him, the brightness causing him to squint. Where was its origin? There were no lamps, no windows. Nothing. Only him, the chair, and the shadows.
“Give us the names.”
“Of whom?”
“Who else is involved?”
“Involved in what, precisely?”
“How many are there?”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion what the devil you’re referring to.”
“You expect us to believe you knew nothing of the plot?”
“What plot?”
The blackness returned, and he was running again. With Althea. He had to protect her. She became his duty, his responsibility. Only she didn’t need him, had her own plans. Still, he reached for her—
But she faded away.
Marcus appeared. Secrets, deception, danger. The heir, no longer an heir, vanished.
Leaving him to face the consequences alone. Always alone. Always—
Griff jerked awake, shaking off the gossamer nightmare the way a dog did water after coming out of a stream. But the reality of it remained to haunt him as he scrubbed his hands up and down his face, struggling to bring himself back to the present and out of the past.
It had been ten months since he and Marcus had been hauled to the Tower because the authorities had believed them to be involved in a plot to assassinate Her Majesty, the Queen. A plot that, it turned out, the Duke of Wolfford had participated in. He hadn’t been going to see his mistress every night. He’d been meeting with his fellow conspirators. While their father hadn’t been acting alone, he’d been the only one caught. It had taken two weeks of daily interrogations before Griff and Marcus had managed to convince the Home Secretary of their innocence, their total ignorance regarding the treasonous undertaking that had consumed their father.
After all this time, Griff still found it difficult to believe their father had been capable of such machinations and had sought to place someone else on the throne. But apparently there had been a dark and dangerous aspect to their father that none of them had known anything about. After being found guilty of treason, the Duke of Wolfford had stood upon a scaffold while the noose had been placed around his neck. Thank God, the law no longer allowed for public hangings. It was ironic that in 1870