Viscountess Hale, currently a guest at Lady Wellington's house, has been heard whispering among members of the ton regarding the Viscount's condition.
She has revealed to several mamas her belief that the Viscount is entirely incapable of managing the Hale household.
This Author, however, suspects the Viscountess's judgment is flawed. After all, it was she who forced her youngest daughter—a mere girl of three-and-ten—to be introduced into society and compelled her to dance with Lord Edmund, who is at least five-and-fifty.
This Author remains certain that the Viscount is more than capable of handling his duties.
Lady Ravenscroft's Society Papers – 16 April 1813
Nicholas was calm as he and his brothers arrived back home, though Dominic Granger and his father had already been beaten to a pulp. He could already imagine the man reporting him and his brothers to the Council before nightfall.
"Where is she?" Nicholas asked Helena as he entered the house.
"She went to have a bath," she replied.
"I imagine we are to expect Lord Granger and members of the Council," Lady Dorrington said, glancing at their bloodied hands.
"Violet cannot return to that bastard's house!" Edward shouted, his anger boiling over.
"She won't," Lady Dorrington said firmly.
"Pardon me, but how do you plan on preventing it?" Helena asked, her confusion evident.
"By claiming that Granger is unfit due to cruelty and the danger he poses to the children. Granger is a man of pride; he will have no choice but to forfeit," Julian said, reaching for a bottle of wine.
"He is a bastard who deserves to die," Edward repeated, his frustration clear to everyone present.
"And yet we cannot do that. This is England, and whether you like it or not, your actions will have a profound effect on Violet and the children," Lady Dorrington cautioned.
"So, you mean we are to leave that piece of shit alone? He will simply roam around society despite what he has done?" Edward asked.
"You are forgetting that the laws of this country favor men over women. Violet will be the talk of the town if you act too harshly," Helena explained.
"Now you are making me regret letting him off so easily," Julian muttered, pouring himself a second glass.
"I need to speak with her," Nicholas said, before heading toward Violet's room.
Nicholas entered the room; the silence was thick and heavy. Violet sat in the corner, her eyes softening as she looked at her son, Sebastian, who handed her a cup.
"I am sorry," Nicholas said, taking a seat opposite her. Simon was staring at him, so Nicholas pulled the boy onto his lap.
"It is not your fault. You had your reasons," she said with a tired smile.
"I should have been around. I should have done s-s-something," he countered.
"You could not possibly have known. I told Julian I would skin him alive," she said.
"Does that threat still stand?"
"I think not, but I should like him to believe that it does," she said with a small chuckle.
"He is never going to hurt you again," Nicholas promised.
"I do not want him near me or the children," she said, her eyes pleading.
"And he shall not be. I swear it," he said confidently.
"And Lady Granger?"
"I will find a way to deal with her." Nicholas paused for a moment, trying to lighten the mood.
"How about that game of Doch?"
"Alright," she said, her smile widening as they headed to the living room to join the others.
The servants brought in the "Doch" box—a mahogany case containing ivory tokens representing the 'Protégés' and a single, blackened stone for the 'Agent.'
Nicholas began distributing them face down, his fingers light and nimble despite the fading adrenaline of the fight.
"Remember," Nicholas said, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial register that made the hair on Helena's arms stand up.
"If you are a Protégé, your goal is to survive the night without your reputation being shredded. If you are the Agent... your goal is to destroy us all without being caught."
He handed a token to Helena with a smile. As she took it, her fingers lingered against his palm.
She felt the callouses from his horse's reins and the heat of his skin. She looked up to find him watching her with an intensity that had nothing to do with the game.
"You look suspicious already, Miss Beaumont," he murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"And you, My Lord, look far too comfortable with the idea of secret identities," Helena countered, her eyes sparkling.
"Are we to believe the great Viscount Hale is a 'Loyal Society Member'?" She asked.
"I am whatever the cards demand I be," he replied softly. "N-now, everyone... eyes closed. It is night in the Ton."
As the room went silent, Helena felt a shift in the air. She heard the soft rustle of Nicholas's coat as he moved—the 'Agent' phase of the game.
A moment later, a light tap fell on her shoulder. Her heart leaped. Was he marking her for ruin, or was it merely the brush of his sleeve?
"Eyes open," Nicholas commanded.
The group looked at the board. The token representing Edward had been flipped; his 'reputation' was ruined.
"Edward is out," Nicholas announced.
He turned his gaze toward Helena, leaning in close enough that she could smell the faint scent of sandalwood and rain. "Now comes the 'Accusation' phase. Who among us is the snake in the grass?"
Helena leaned forward, mimicking his proximity. "I find it curious, My Lord, that you were so quick to point out Edward's downfall. A classic diversion tactic used by Lady Ravenscroft's spies, wouldn't you say?"
Julian snickered, pouring more wine. "She's got you there, Nick. You've always been a terrible liar."
"I am not l-lying," Nicholas said, his gaze never leaving Helena's.
His stammer was barely a whisper, a sign of his deep focus. "I am merely observing. You, Miss Beaumont, are far too observant. It makes you d-dangerous."
"Is that a compliment, My Lord?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave.
"In this house," Nicholas replied, his eyes dropping briefly to her lips, "being dangerous is the highest form of p-praise."
"If being dangerous is a compliment, then Catherine must be the Agent," James piped up, breaking the tension.
He gestured toward his younger sister. "She's been far too quiet."
Catherine gasped, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. "I am merely practicing the grace of a 'Protégé,' James. Unlike you, who looks as though you've just been caught stealing from the larder."
"I suspect Julian," Violet said, her voice small but steady.
She was leaning against the cushions, a token clutched in her hand. "He has that look in his eyes—the one he gets right before a prank."
"I am wounded!" Julian cried, though he grinned. "I am a man of integrity! Edward, back me up."
Edward, already 'socially ruined,' crossed his arms. "Don't look at me. I'm dead to the Ton. But I'll say this—Nicholas handled the stones. A clever Agent always ensures he is the one holding the bag."
Nicholas didn't look away from Helena as he answered. "A c-clever Agent would also know that the first person to point a finger is often the one trying to hide their own d-dirt."
He leaned back, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. The house felt different tonight.
For the first time in years, the suffocating presence of their mother was absent. The cold judgment had been replaced by a tentative, warm chaos.
"The vote!" Lady Dorrington commanded, tapping her cane. "Who is our primary suspect?"
"Nicholas," Helena said instantly, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Miss Beaumont," Nicholas countered.
"I vote for Nicholas too," James added. "He's far too calm for a man who just survived a brawl."
Nicholas sighed, a look of mock defeat crossing his features as he flipped his stone. It was white—a Loyal Society Member.
A collective groan went up from the Beaumonts, while Julian howled with laughter.
"Which means," Nicholas said, his voice dropping to that intimate level again as he looked at Helena, "the Agent is still among us. And since I am innocent, my suspicions of you, Helena, have only d-doubled."
"You shouldn't call her by her Christian name, My Lord," Catherine teased. "It's highly improper."
"We are playing Doch," Nicholas replied, his gaze still fixed on Helena, defiant and daring. "In this game, there are no titles. Only p-prey and predators."
Helena felt a shiver. "Then you had better watch your back, Nicholas. I might be more predatory than you anticipate."
"I certainly h-hope so," he whispered.
"Eyes closed!" Violet called out, laughing. "Night falls on the Ton once more!"
When the "night" phase concluded, the room was thick with a playful silence. Nicholas leaned forward. "Eyes open."
Two more tokens had been flipped: James and Catherine were now 'socially ruined.'
"The Agent has been busy," Julian remarked. "That leaves only Violet, Helena, and Lady Dorrington as the surviving Protégés."
"I suspect Helena," James lamented. "She's been far too quiet."
Nicholas turned his gaze toward her. He looked captivated. "You have been remarkably still, Helena. Almost as if you were waiting for the p-perfect moment to strike."
Helena didn't flinch. She leaned in until she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "A good Agent knows that the best hiding place is right in front of the investigator's nose. Do you truly think me capable of such... destruction?"
"I think you are c-capable of anything you set your mind to," Nicholas murmured.
"But the game requires a vote. I cast mine for you." Nicholas said
"And I for Helena!" Catherine added.
"I'm afraid I must agree," Violet said gently.
Helena sighed gracefully. "It seems the Ton has turned against me. Very well."
She reached for her ivory token, keeping her eyes locked on Nicholas's as she flipped it over. The blackened stone of the Agent stared back at them.
A chorus of cheers erupted. Julian slapped the table. "I knew it! The 'Spinster' has ruined us all!"
"You betrayed your own brother!" James cried.
"In the world of Lady Ravenscroft, there are no siblings, only stories," Helena joked, her focus still on Nicholas.
Nicholas sat back, a genuine smile breaking across his face. The weight of the afternoon seemed to lift entirely. "You played us all for f-fools," he said with admiration.
"And you, My Lord," she replied, tilting her head, "were the easiest of all to distract. You were so busy looking for a 'snake' that you didn't notice the lady standing right in front of you."
"A mistake I shall not make ag-gain," Nicholas promised, his voice dropping to a private, husky tone.
The moment was interrupted by a yawn from little Sebastian. The reality of the hour settled back in, but the atmosphere remained changed. The game had bridged the gap between their trauma and their survival.
"I believe it is time for the children to sleep," Lady Dorrington announced, rising with her cane. She glanced between Nicholas and Helena with a knowing glint. "And for the rest of us to prepare for the Council tomorrow."
Nicholas stood, extending a hand to Helena. As she took it, he didn't let go. "Good game, Agent," he whispered.
"Better luck next time, Protégé," she whispered back.