Henry sighed. “Lord Suthenshire is not the man he once was, Michael. He has aged and is ailing.”
“I have no sympathy for a man who would condemn another to rot in a dungeon on false charges for the sake of political gain! Father suffered at his hands—and for what? Eventually, Suthenshire never gained the power he so desperately sought.”
Henry’s gaze filled with sadness. Michael knew he was right. The House of Lords was filled with vipers that would easily tear someone down for more power. The late duke had been the last morally upright gentleman in that place and they ensured that his life would be ruined, all so that he could no longer oppose them.
The Earl of Suthenshire would quickly know how wrong it was to play with the lives of others.
“What shall you do then?” Henry asked softly. Michael noticed that his uncle had not yet touched his drink.
“I intend to approach his daughter, Lady Elaine.”
Henry’s brow furrowed. “You will seduce her?”
“If I must,” Michael replied, his voice cold with determination. “But let us hope it does not come to that. For now, I intend to get close to her, close enough to uncover the full truth of what transpired.”
“The consequences of such an action may be far greater than you fathom, Michael.”
Michael frowned. “All because the earl is ill?”
“The family has been disgraced,” Henry explained with a shake of his head, a grave expression settling on his features. “Lord Suthenshire’s action after your father’s conviction led him down a path of terrible financial decisions. He has far more debt than he will ever be able to overcome and he has severed ties with a number of influential gentlemen because of that. Associating with his family may only tarnish your own standing further.”
Michael paused, weighing his uncle’s words. He had heard whispers of the earl’s downfall, much to his satisfaction, though he had not realised the full extent of it. Still, he steeled himself…
“The benefits outweigh the risks,” he said determinedly.
Henry’s expression remained doubtful. “The fragile state of the dukedom’s reputation further complicates matters. Our name cannot bear much scrutiny right now.”
“For now I am working to restore that reputation, starting with bringing the truth to light.”
“And what of the earl’s daughter? Do you deem it wise to entangle an innocent in this web of vengeance?”
Michael didn’t dare let his true thoughts on that matter show, saying, “Whether I involve her or not, she will suffer once the truth is revealed. I shall see to it.”
Henry said nothing to that, finally taking a sip of his drink. The silence simmered in the room but Michael hardly noticed it. His fury, which was never too far away, threatened to spill over at any moment. Taking small sips of the brandy was all that calmed him.
He quelled the pinch of guilt at the thought of Lady Elaine. Henry was right. She was not to blame for her father’s errors. However, if she could assist him in uncovering the full truth, then at least she might play a part in her father’s atonement.
Chapter Three
“Michael.”
Michael glanced at his sister, immediately alert at the softness of her voice. They’d left Belington House a short while ago, in mostly good spirits, but now he could tell that something was bothering Clarissa. She stared at him in the dim light of the carriage, hands folded tightly in her lap.
“What is it?” he asked.
Her frown deepened and she drew in a slow breath, as if she was bracing herself for something. “I overheard your conversation with Uncle Henry.”
For a brief moment, Michael only stared at her in bemusement. Then he realised that it meant she’d overheard his plan and had learned of the true reason he had been away for so long.
Quelling his irritation, he looked out the window once more. “I see.”
“Michael…” Clarissa’s hand touched his, squeezing. “You must know that this is not the right way.”
“Do not preach to me, Clarissa,” Michael replied, striving to contain his anger. It was alarming how swiftly he would lose his temper whenever this subject arose. “If you knew of the horrors our father suffered at the hands of that deceitful man, you would be encouraging me.”
“I cannot encourage you to be so deceitfulyourself,” she said softly. “I must admit that it was not proper of me to eavesdrop, but I do not regret it. Hearing you speak with such vengeance in your heart appalled me. This is not the Michael I used to know.”
“The Michael you knew died the day Papa did, Clarissa.” He gripped her hand, facing her fully. “You are kind and pure andfar too virtuous for his treacherous world. Leave this to me. Pray, do not burden yourself with thoughts of what I intend to do.”
