ESP 32

For an instant, Briony’s face lit up, thinking it was Dmitri — but her expression quickly turned to confusion. The one who had called out to her was not Dmitri, but two young men she had never seen before. Their clothes resembled those of market workers rather than servants of any noble house.

“Who are you?”

Before either of the men could reply, Lord Weardale stepped between them and Briony.

“What’s going on here?”

“We’re not here for you, milord,” said the first man curtly. “We have business with the lady.”

His tone was rude and disrespectful. A sense of dread crept into Briony’s chest.

“I asked who you are,” she said again.

“We’ve been sent by Sir Gideon Arlington, the lady’s father. He’s very worried about his daughter.”

But the man’s smirk betrayed his words, and even if he had spoken sincerely, Briony would not have believed him.

“He commands you to return to Shawbury at once. The carriage waiting to take you back is just over—”

Briony cut him off.

“I’m not going. Tell him that.”

“Not going isn’t really an option for someone in your position, is it?”

He wasn’t wrong. Like it or not, Briony was Sir Gideon Arlington’s daughter. In Algonquin society, an unmarried noblewoman, even if of age, was bound to obey her father—or her brothers, if her father was gone. Women who defied that rule always paid for it somehow.

She shook her head firmly.

“That’s my concern, not yours. Now, please leave.”

“I don’t think so.”

The man muttered and reached out to grab her arm. But as a common thug, he was no match for Theodore Byron, Duke of Weardale — a man trained at the fencing academy that produced royal guards and famed for his skill with a sword.

The Duke brushed the man’s arm aside as easily as breathing and turned to his attendant.

“Christian, my sword.”

“…Here? Right now?” Christian stammered and hurried to the carriage. Fetching the sword took longer than expected, leaving the two men and Briony’s group facing off awkwardly in the middle of the road.

The Duke’s voice carried an imperious weight.

“I don’t know who you are, but forcing a lady against her will is inexcusable. She’s with me, so leave her be and move along.”

“Milord, we are in the employ of the Honorable Gideon Arlington, the lady’s father. Even if you lived in the royal palace, you’ve no right to interfere between a father and daughter.”

The man’s reply was surprisingly articulate — he sounded like someone accustomed to such dealings. Indeed, in noble circles, there was always need for people who could discreetly handle scandals — affairs, abuse, elopements, suicides, and the like — while preserving appearances. Such shadowy trades thrived, and the worst of them even used the secrets they learned to blackmail their clients. When such a man turned up dead someday, everyone simply assumed a desperate noble had taken revenge.

Before the Duke could respond, Briony spoke instead.

“Then tell my father this — if he wants to see me, he can come to Fanshaw himself. If he truly worries for me, a few days’ journey by carriage shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Before the man could speak again, she pulled a small purse from inside her cloak — the one she always carried, filled with gold coins and jewels.

“This should be enough for you to take my message.”

She handed him two gold coins.

The men exchanged uncertain glances. If they failed to fulfill their client’s request, not only would they lose their remaining payment, but half of their advance as well. Still, taking the gold and walking away might save them a lot of trouble.

But their trade relied on reputation — if word got out that they’d accepted a bribe to abandon a job, they’d lose future clients.

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Miss, we rode all the way from Shawbury — two coins barely cover the horse feed. Double that, and maybe we can pretend this never happened…”

“Miss Arlington, such men aren’t worth a single coin,” the Duke interjected.

Briony hesitated. Spending that much just to stop them seemed wasteful, but she also didn’t want to cause a public scene. If people discovered she was a runaway daughter of a baronet’s house, her testimony in court earlier might lose credibility.

“Three coins,” she said finally. “I can’t offer more.”

The man sighed deeply.

“You really don’t understand how things work, do you? Still… you seem to be in a difficult position—”

He glanced sideways at the Duke.

“And since his lordship seems eager to be rid of us, we’ll take it.”

“No, you won’t take a single coin.”

Another voice cut in.

Briony recoiled in shock — she knew that voice instantly.

‘So soon? He’s been released already?!’

It was Keith. Behind him came Christian, running up with the Duke’s sword in both hands.

Keith looked exhausted, pale, and weary — yet his eyes burned with cold fury.

“Go back to Sir Gideon Arlington,” he said evenly. “Tell him that withholding the late Lady Arlington’s rightful inheritance from his daughter is unlawful. If he has any sense, he’ll understand that a daughter’s right to her mother’s estate takes precedence over her duty to obey her father — especially when it’s her father himself standing in the way.”

“And who might you be, sir?” the man sneered.

Keith ignored the question.

“If you insist on taking Miss Arlington, I’ll arrest you for contempt of court — on the spot.”

The man frowned, clearly confused. But Briony understood. They were within half a mile of the courthouse — that meant this area was legally considered its vicinity. Anyone causing a disturbance here could indeed be charged with contempt.

“I’m a court clerk,” Keith continued coolly, “and I know at least ten legal ways to ruin men like you. Do you deal with the nobility often? Because I could make sure you never work again.”

The man’s face paled instantly.

“Milord, we meant no disrespect to the sacred court! The lady’s father only—”

“Attempted to lay hands on a noblewoman in broad daylight, demanded payment, and issued threats,” Keith snapped. “And this lady happens to be under His Grace’s protection.”

‘How much of that did he hear?’ Briony wondered uneasily.

At that moment, Christian finally found the courage to speak.

“Milord, your sword, as ordered.”

“Ah, excellent.”

The Duke brightened, taking the beautifully crafted blade — its hilt inlaid with a sapphire as blue as his eyes.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “if you don’t leave now, someone here will bleed.”

“Contempt of court applies to all subjects equally, Lord Weardale — even to royalty,” Keith added sharply.

The tone of his voice was like a blade.

At last, the men seemed to grasp the situation. Before them stood not just a disobedient woman and an interfering noble — but a Duke, and a court officer with the power to end their careers and send them to prison. That was one opponent too many.

“Well… if you insist, milords,” the man muttered, backing away.

Still, unwilling to leave without one last jab, he added to Briony:

“Miss Arlington, I’ve seen many like you. None of them ended well. You’d best go home before things get worse.”

“Thank you for your advice,” she said coolly.

The men chuckled and disappeared into the alley.

“…Lord Ebony, your silver tongue hasn’t changed,” the Duke remarked lightly.

An ex-count, his former wife, and the Duke who had once proposed to that wife — few situations could be more awkward. Naturally, the one to speak first was the boldest — and the most handsome — among them.

Keith bowed.

“It’s been a while, Lord Weardale.”

“So, you’re a free man now? Congratulations. After all you’ve been through, perhaps you should return to Ebony to rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m here to speak with your companion.”

At that, Keith finally turned to Briony.

“Briony, Dmitri’s waiting for you.”

It had been nearly a month since they’d last parted, yet the simple normalcy of those words — Dmitri’s waiting — hit her with a strange mixture of relief and emotion that almost brought tears to her eyes.

But of course, she couldn’t cry.

“But you should be returning to Ebony…” she began softly. And there’s only one carriage.

She couldn’t say that aloud, not in front of the Duke.

“I was planning to take another carriage to Undine Isle,” she said instead.

“And I,” said the Duke, “had already agreed to escort Miss Arlington there myself, Lord Ebony.”

“Lord Weardale,” Keith replied evenly, “you may have forgotten, but Undine Isle belongs to the Earl of Dalmore. That makes her my guest.”

The meaning was clear: So back off.

Even Briony, usually oblivious to malice, could feel the tension between them. Why, if they’d studied under the same teacher, were they so eager to one-up each other?

“She’s my guest, so I’ll take her,” Keith continued. “You should rest, Lord Weardale.”

The Duke’s eyes gleamed.

“Still as tactless as ever, aren’t you, Lord Ebony? There are eyes everywhere. If people see the former Countess of Dalmore riding in a Dalmore carriage, Miss Arlington will face unwanted rumors. I’ll escort her to Undine Isle myself — you should return to your lands. Your people must be longing for their lord.”

“I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need to worry about me, Lord Weardale,” Briony interjected gently.

“Riding in the Duke of Byron’s carriage would draw as much attention as the Dalmore’s,” she added. “It’s best if I disappear quickly before more eyes turn this way.”

“But Miss Arlington—” the Duke began.

She shook her head.

“Thank you, truly, for your kindness.”

“Safe travels, then, Lord Weardale,” Keith said briskly, eager to end the exchange. He turned to Briony and motioned.

“…Briony, this way.”

He led her toward the same alley the men had vanished into. The narrow lane was dim and shadowy, but she felt no fear.

“Dmitri parked the carriage somewhere quiet, away from prying eyes,” Keith explained quickly as they walked. “We couldn’t predict the trial’s outcome, so we didn’t prepare another carriage in advance. Sorry for the trouble—”

“Keith.”

“If you have something to say, say it in the carriage.”

Briony stopped walking.

“Lord Weardale’s right. People in Ebony must be waiting for you. Go back first — then come for me later, to take me to Undine Isle.”

“…Just get in the carriage.”

“You look exhausted.”

He truly did. He needed rest badly, and Ebony Heights — much closer than Undine Isle — was the sensible place for it.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “I’m fine. Just… come with me.”

His voice carried fatigue, edged with irritation, and Briony shrank a little at the tone.

Did I say something wrong? she wondered. I was only worried about him.

The trial’s verdict had thankfully cleared him, but she still had so many questions — about the proceedings, about what had happened to him since. As a witness, and as someone who had seen the chaos in Ebony, she felt she deserved some explanation.

But judging from Keith’s demeanor, he had no intention of explaining anything — only of sending her away to Undine Isle as quickly as possible.

…And perhaps not letting me stay there long, either.

That thought darkened her heart.

If her father was desperate enough to hire men to find her, he would soon find a way — legal or otherwise — to drag her back to Shawbury.

So as she followed Keith down the shadowed alley, the joy she’d felt upon seeing him again slowly faded — replaced by a heavy, uneasy sorrow.