“Certainly. I merely hope for the future of Westvale. I have had fears concerning that since my nephew announced his intention to marry you. In fact, I've had my doubts long before that.”
Georgia donned a coy smile. “I am happy to reassure you then that Westvale is in safe hands.”
“Indeed it is,” Swinthorpe agreed, draining the last of his tea, “and in the spirit of familial co-operation, may I speak to you regarding the matter of your brother?”
Georgia paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth. She put it down, the cup and saucer trembling slightly.
“You may. I am always open to any information regarding Elias' whereabouts.”
The Earl nodded decisively and stood. “Very well. What I have to say has recently come to light, and I have not had an opportunity to share it with my nephew yet. I have some correspondence relating to it, if I may?”
Georgia nodded, and Swinthorpe departed from the room. Georgia and Amelia exchanged astonished looks.
“If he truly has information, then I would like to know for how long and why it has not been shared before,” Georgia murmured, standing and pacing the room. “I can only presume Keaton told him of my brother, and he has been secretly aiding in the investigation.”
“If he can give you some concrete information, he will be doubly the hero,” Amelia avowed, leaving the window to sit on a chaise beside her cousin.
Georgia nodded, trying her best to steel her expression. “I hope it is good news, but even if it is not, to know is better than to wonder.”
“So, do you think that your marriage to the Duke has become something more than the forced arrangement it began as?” Amelia asked earnestly.
“I… I do not know, is the honest answer. Perhaps I am being a fool to myself and claiming hope where there is none. He is a difficult man to know... but let us say that annulment is no longer an option.”
Amelia's mouth fell open, and she blushed. “Oh, my. Georgia, you are so bold!”
“Bold? He is my husband after all. But yes, I suppose I do feel a good deal bolder than a month ago,” Georgia said with a secret smile.
“I do hope that one day I will find a handsome Duke of my own! In fact, an Earl or a Viscount or a Marquess... even a farmer would do!” Amelia chimed brightly, “Provided he is... strong and handsome, of course.”
“A good man is all I ever wanted.”
“And you have one,andfrom a good family.”
Georgia smiled happily.
The door swung open, and Swinthorpe strode back into the room. He was holding a letter. There was a smudge of ink on his index finger. When he handed the letter to Georgia, she noticed that it had smudged on the paper too.
“This correspondence arrived just a few days ago. I have not had an opportunity to look into it. But it may have some bearing. I kept it because it seemed to connect the two incidents that have the most bearing on our family, the Westvale family. The accident that left my nephew blind and the disappearance of your brother.”
Georgia took the letter and began to read. As she did, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
“…What is it?” Amelia asked, impatient, “Has your brother been found?”
“No,” Georgia mumbled, “but this purports to know where he is. It says that a residence of a country house on the outskirts of North London tells a tale of a body found after an incident involving some notorious highwaymen. The body was taken for burial on this gentleman's estate, which was nearby. A pin was found and has been in the gentleman's possession since then.
“Amelia, the pin described in this letter is the sigil of Roseton. A rose with two thorns on its stalk, set against a hill. The Rose tun in Old English means the rose hill. Elias wore it on his lapel. My father, before him. Who is this letter from, Lord Swinthorpe?” Georgia demanded.
“The gentleman was named Viscount Broadmede. He is no longer in the land of the living. But, I am familiar with his family, and after my people brought this to light, I went to see the new Viscount. He gave me this...”
Swinthorpe put out a hand, and on his palm was a tarnished copper pin. It bore the sigil of Roseton. Georgia reached for it with trembling hands, eyes brimming with tears.
“Oh, Elias!” she sobbed, pressing the sigil to her cheek.
“We could go there. To the place where the man who bore this pin was interred,” Swinthorpe suggested, “I presume that is the pin that belonged to your family?”
Georgia nodded wordlessly.
“Then I am very sorry for your loss,” Swinthorpe declared with earnest compassion in his voice and eyes.
