“If you doubt my word now,” he continued, “again I say we call a jury and witnesses and let the courts decide this matter. It is my belief that, after reports of my demise, my secretary uncovered proof that Lady Lavinia and my cousin were meddling in my private affairs, likely hatching some plan to declare themselves regents of the duchy, pending my appearance and proof of my sound mental state. Given that they have your ear, Your Majesty, the plan might have worked had I not returned to Town unexpectedly as I did. Regardless, as even temporary regents, they could have plundered the family coffers. My secretary stood between them and that goal, and therefore, they had him sacked and further silenced before he could sound the alarm.”
Victoria stirred in her chair. “Our summons was designed to flush you out, as it were. To verify the true status of your wellbeing. The Dukedom of Kendall is too powerful an entity to permit rumors regarding your health to run rampant. You should have returned to Town much sooner than you did. Such a lack of oversight was badly done on your part, Duke.”
Tristan acknowledged the blow with a nod of his head. “I agree, Your Majesty. Please accept my apologies. I offer no excuse, only that with my private secretary dismissed, no one remained in Town to inform me of the rumors . . . as was my cousin and Lady Lavinia’s plan. Unfortunately, my secretary is still missing, so I may have to open a criminal investigation, regardless. If he is found dead, I will hunt down his murderers, make no mistake. He was a good man and did not deserve such cruelty.”
Glancing at the Duchess of Andover, Tristan noted the color had drained from her face, leaving her skin ashen. Her gaze flitted to his.
She knew.
The lady knew that her daughter had done these things, that Lady Lavinia’s scheming had gone too far. Even Victoria had been concerned for the dukedom, it seemed. The duchess also recognized the dire legal quagmire that she and her family now faced.
Those in upper aristocracy might have their differences, but a conspiracy against a sitting Peer and attempts to kill his lady and unborn heir would be viewed with horror. If Kendall went public with his accusations, even if there were only a thread of proof, the court of public opinion would excoriate Aubrey and Lady Lavinia, and by extension, her parents and family.
Queen Victoria pinched her lips together, her gaze darting between the Duchess of Andover and Kendall, clearly reading the duchess’s concern over her daughter’s guilt.
Tristan continued to hold the duchess’s gaze. “As of yet, I have taken no legal action. It is my hope that my secretary will be found well and whole, and with Lady Lavinia’s dismissal from my presence, these malicious attacks will cease. However, I do not wish to see hide nor hair of Mr. Gilbert and Lady Lavinia for the rest of my days. I have come here today as a courtesy to inform Your Grace that your daughter and son-in-law will soon be homeless. They are no longer welcome at Gilbert House or to set foot on any property owned by the Duchy of Kendall. I suggest removing them to the country post-haste.”
With that, Tristan gave both women a clipped bow and, at the Queen’s flicking hand of dismissal, exited the room.
An hour later, Tristan strode into Gilbert House, his mood greatly improved.
Now, all that remained was clearing his home of vermin.
The voices of Cousin Aubrey and Lady Lavinia wafted out from the breakfast room.
Excellent.
Straightening, he channeled his father’s ghost—gaze steely, mouth a tight slash, jaw stiff. Only one positive had come of his brutal father’s legacy—Tristan’s ability to instantly morph into a cold monster in defense of those he loved.
He paused in the doorway. Aubrey and Lady Lavinia were seated comfortably at the table, enjoying a luncheon of ham, bread, and stewed fruits and quarreling over something in the newspaper before them.
Absorbed, they didn’t notice Tristan at first.
He cleared his throat.
They both paused and looked up at him. Slowly, Aubrey lowered his fork. Lady Lavinia blinked.
Tristan continued to survey them with calculating indifference. The key, he knew, was to speak terrifying things as conversationally and unemotionally as possible.
“Aubrey, Lady Lavinia, there you are. A couple of items. I have reduced your allowance to one-fourth of what it has been. When my heir is born, it will be severed entirely. I never wish to see either of you again. That also means you will never again set foot on property owned by the Duchy of Kendall. Therefore, you have—” Tristan tugged his pocket watch from his waistcoat and made a show of casually studying it. “—precisely fifty-nine minutes to permanently remove yourselves and your belongings from my home.”
He pivoted to leave.
Behind him, chairs screeched and clothing rustled as his cousin and wife stumbled to their feet.
“P-pardon,” Aubrey stammered.
“Your Grace!” Lady Lavinia called.
Tristan turned around, expression blank and indifferent.
Both Aubrey and Lady Lavinia stared at him, their eyes flared and rather wild looking.
Perfect.
“Was anything I said unclear?” Tristan asked. “Your funds have been reduced and you have been banished. You will leave. Now.”
Aubrey spluttered, his cheeks turning a florid shade of red, mouth agape like a carp.
