“I was so close!”
“In your dreams, Gramfield. Now, will you join us in the next round or forfeit any claim to the pot?”
Gregory Wightman sighed and tapped the space in front of his chips, waiting for the dealer to give him the cards he would use to contest in the next round.
Although it was a bit of a surprise to see the baron of Gramfield at the club, Godric knew it could not have been a coincidence that he was there.
From where he was seated, Godric and his uncle had a perfect view of the other man laughing and drinking as he gambled his fortune away with every passing moment. Godric did not need to ask to know that this was why his uncle had brought him here, so he simply waited for his uncle to outright remind him of his quest.
Godric might not be willing to admit it outwardly, but he knew he had been rather… distracted as of late, by other affairs. But nothing had changed. The hate in his heart for Gregory Wightman was still as powerful and as potent as before.
Luther cleared his throat and Godric prepared himself to rebut what was coming, only it was not as he had expected.
“Godric… It would be remise of me not to ask, so indulge me for a moment. Are you still as invested in our plans for revenge as you were when we began?”
Godric’s lips parted to speak but his uncle cut him off by holding a hand up.
“I am asking because I have realized that perhaps it was unfair of me to put you on such a consuming quest. Afterall, you are a man as well. You could have gotten more out of life than you have now. You could have a family, a beloved. A better life, as opposed to one chasing demons that you are not responsible for.”
Although Luther had not said it outright, it sounded as though his uncle was trying to tell him to walk away from the plot that they had crafted.
Godric downed the drink that had been offered to him and when he set the glass on the table, he said,
“I understand what you are saying, uncle. And I appreciate your kind consideration. However, I would like to assure you that there is nothing I want more than the people responsible for my parent’s demise brought to justice. They must pay.”
Luther nodded, and Godric had hoped that the conversation would have ended at that point, but his uncle only pressed further,
“I am an old man with nothing but grudges and regret. My life has practically ended, so I can waste it away chasing such things. But you are different, Godric. You have much more to live for, more to want from life than more blood spilled – this time onyour hands. And I know that is not what your parents would have wanted for you.”
It was very strange, to say the least, how insistent his uncle was on dissuading him. Although his tone was calm, there was an insisting edge still that was trying to nudge Godric aside and away from all of this.
It was odder still because Luther had raised him with one main goal in mind – to never forget his parents and the tragic nature of their demise. He had urged Godric to grow up well and take whatever form of justice his heart desired, and now he wanted him to simply… walk away?
“Uncle, I might have been a little occupied as of late, but I am no less committed to this cause. I am still focused on our ploy for revenge, and I will not rest until the ones responsible have lost everything they hold dear. And… I do not have a beloved. That is ridiculous – a waste of time and resources. My time is better served elsewhere, doing other things.” Godric said, the last sentences coming out rather hastily.
Luther stared at him in an odd way, and Godric tried not to flinch, hoping then matter would be dismissed as soon as possible.
“All right then. I do expect you to be solely focused on this if it is really what you wish to do.” Luther urged quietly, refilling Godric’s glass before also pouring more whiskey into his own, glancing in the direction of Gregory’s table as the baron whoops for joy.
“You have my word,” Godric assured.
Luther nodded, returning his attention to watching Gregory and although it seemed that the crisis had been settled, the duke had doubts on whether or not his uncle believed him.
And such doubts would only yield trouble later.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Aletter arrived for you, Miss Nora.”
Nora closed the book she had been reading and set it aside as her maid approached her, holding out a small white envelope.
Quickly, she opened it to find a single note that said,
Meet me at noon. Dress comfortably.
G.M.
