'She tried to tell me.' His mother finally broke the weighted silence that followed the thump of Needham's body crashing against the floor. Her voice was hollow and fraught with her anguish. 'She tried to tell me and I didn't listen. She must have thought that I would leave her to him. She must have thought I would send her back.'

'You couldn't have known. I didn't know. We should have seen it, and we did not.' Ben hung his head in shame. 'We owe my wife everything.'

'Where is Ophelia, Rothbury? You must find her and bring her home.'

'I don't know, but she is safe. She went to my wife for help and she told me that Ophelia was safe.'

Christ. His heart gave a saddened lurch, the familiar ache settling in once again. He felt so damn lost, as if he had been cleaved in two.

His wife.

His poor, lovely wife who had only sought to help and how had he repaid her? By not even having enough control over his fear to think about things logically? To soften his words even if he was angry?

He should have had god damned faith instead of letting his panic rule his reaction and thinking. He should have known. He should have known, goddamn it.

'Do you think they will sentence me to death?' Lady Amelia asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

'Listen to me. Listen to me!' Benedict shook his mother by her shoulders to snap her out of her reverie. She was taking large gasping breaths as her entire body trembled. She looked him in the eye and nodded. 'I will not let you get arrested, do you understand?'

'You can't stop it. I k-killed a man. A peer, no less. There will be consequences and I am prepared to face them. I would do anything for you and your sister.' She took in a large breath and collected herself, years of being overly aware of her conduct would not allow her to behave so poorly, even in the given circumstances. She squared her shoulders, her posture becoming the typically regal one as her eyes hardened. Her hands fisted into the fabric of her gown were the only outward sign of her turmoil.

'You did it to protect me. I will take the blame, do you understand? They cannot arrest me. Worst comes to worst, I will be tried in the House of Lords. I have no dearth of allies among the peerage. I will be fine.'

'No! I won't let you do it. I won't!' She shook her head fiercely. 'You will be ruined. If you think you will have any friends left should all this come to light, you are mistaken. You will be completely and utterly ruined in ways a man can't live down even in decades. I will tell the constables the truth and if I must die protecting my children, it will be a death that I am satisfied with.'

Ben's eyes pricked with emotion as he was faced with the undisputable depth of his mother's love. A love he had not thought existed for so many years

'You are not going to die. I will not allow it!' He snarled as he paced the study, trying to think of a way- any way- out of this mess. 'There are inspectors that can be bought. Constables that can be paid off.'

'One person. One person refusing would be all it takes to bring this entire thing down like a house of cards. I will not let you take a risk like that. You stand to lose everything.'

She was right. He stood to lose everything. His businesses, his connections, his influence would all go up in smoke, but he could not very well allow his mother to get carted away in manacles! His honor would not allow it. His entire sense of duty would not allow it.

A throat cleared delicately as the footman gently opened the door and a uniformed man strode in, hat tucked under his arm and a grave expression on his face. He inhaled sharply at the sight of Needham's body lying on its side and crossed himself muttering a small prayer to Jesus. Without acknowledging Ben or his mother, he took out a notebook and began scribbling.

'Sir?' Ben ventured as he realized he was making a sketch of the body. 'Who are you?'

The man gave him a sideways glance and offered a stiff bow. 'Constable Higgins, at your service.'

Fuck.

Dread settled into his stomach. The gun was lying right at his mother's feet.

'Why did the lady kill the Earl?' The constable paused mid-sketch and leveled an assessing glance at mother and son as Ben's knees turned a trifle wobbly. He squared his shoulders, summoning every ounce of ducal authority he possessed, and returned the man's gaze with ire.

'How dare you make such an accusation? Do you even know who you are addressing at this moment?' He thundered, hoping it came across as at least a little convincing. The constable pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath. 'Surely, there is some form of a procedure. Where is your collected evidence? You don't have any other men with you! How dare-'

'There are signs of a tussle, sir.' The constable replied with grit teeth. 'And by the marks on your neck, I assume that it was you who was engaged in the brawl. From the angle of the entry and exit wounds on the body, and the blood splatter on the floor and desk, the shot was taken from an elevated position. If you were in the tussle, you could not have possibly shot the Earl. Furthermore, her Ladyship has been attempting to conceal the gun by her feet under her skirts every time I look away. Now, I am sure you are a very, very important man who can ruin my career or have me disposed of. It is nothing I haven't heard before. Please just answer my-'

A low, appreciative whistle rang out from the doorway, interrupting the constable. Higgins' jaw clenched tightly as he turned to the doorway, glaring daggers at the newcomer, who observed the ongoings as he leaned against the doorframe.

'My, my, my.' The familiar voice purred. 'What a mess we have here. Higgins, you were so right in summoning me, this is just the sort of thing I love.'

'My Lord.' Higgins greeted disdainfully.

'Higgins, really. The least you can do is pretend you're happy to see me. Living in my pocket not comfortable enough for you, hmm?'

Higgins remained silent but the judgement did not leave his gaze.

'Carlisle?'

But the man simply ignored Ben's bewildered exclamation as he sauntered forward, his intelligent eyes assessing the room, a cold smile on his face.

'Oh my.' He let out a theatric gasp, his hand resting over his heart in mock offense. 'Lady Rothbury, who would have thought? What a scandal this will be, indeed.'

'What are you doing here, boy?' His mother asked sharply as Carlisle pouted.

'Well, a constable being summoned to a Mayfair home following the sound of a gunshot is certainly an extraordinary thing, no? And since I absolutely adore things that are out of the ordinary, Higgins was kind enough to summon me instead of his colleagues. He and I are dearest of friends, you see, and it's not every day that a duchess murders her son-in-law, hmmm?' Carlisle swaggered over to the chair behind Needham's desk, dropping himself into it. He poured himself a hefty glass of whatever spirits were on the desk and, as was typical, rested his feet on the table. The edges of his hoes were right above where Needham's blood was staining the wood.

Higgins stiffened and sniffled in disgust at being called Carlisle's friend and looked away.

'It was me. I fired the gun.' Ben insisted.

'Of course, you would attempt to take the blame. Never tire of playing the martyr, do you?' Carlisle tsked, shaking his head. 'Don't bullshit me, a fool with half a brain can see the finger marks on your neck. Higgins is usually good at this sort of thing, hasn't he explained himself yet? Why did she kill him, then?'

'He hurt my daughter. He c-could have killed her. He was choking my son. I had no choice.'

'Of course.' Carlisle sighed. He seemed almost....disappointed? 'It can never be a fun reason like inheritance or blackmail, not with people as straight-laced as you lot. But murder is murder, so,' he smiled once again. 'I imagine there is a lot you people would be willing to do to make this go away?'

'Is this some sort of joke to you?' Lady Amelia demanded furiously, her ashen face turning crimson with fury. 'A man is dead and you are treating this as if it's some sort of morbid play!'

'Joke? No indeed, Your Grace.' He took a large gulp of his drink. 'I think of it more of an opportunity! Imagine having a favor as big as this owed to you by a man who has influence both in Parliament and the Palace. The possibilities are endless.'

What was going on?

Carlisle was talking about covering up a man's murder with the same casualty that one might discuss sandwiches over tea.

'And you can accomplish something like that? How is that even possible?' Ben forced his voice to come out steady, not to show how lost and confused he felt.

'The thing about secrets, Rothbury, is that if you collect enough of them, you can get just about anyone to do just about anything,' he waved a casual hand at the constable. 'Take Higgins here, for example; a real bastion of justice. He believes in the authority of the system and fair trials and all that. But, he made mistakes as a young one, didn't he? If he hadn't conducted several investigations under the influence of alcohol or helped a senior officer forge evidence, he would never have had to deal with me. But alas, I hold his secrets so he obeys like a good little doggy, even though his skin crawls at the sight of me. Isn't that right, Higsy?'

Higgins did not even dignify that with a response.

'Come now, Higgins, it's not all that bad. I pay you well enough, don't I? How is your son, by the way? Enjoying his scholarship at medical school?'

'Yes, My Lord.' The constable replied tonelessly.

'And what if Higgins was not the one who was sent to investigate?'

Carlile shot him a look of condescending amusement that made Ben's hackles rise. 'You don't imagine I have only one man in my pocket, do you? How inefficient would that be? Now, do you want my help or not?'

'Name your price.' Ben demanded.

'A favor, from both of you, collected at a time of my choosing. You will not have the option to refuse me.' Carlisle replied and there was no mistaking the calculating gleam behind his eyes. 'If you try to backpedal, just know that witnesses and judges can be bought just as easily as constables. Everyone has their secrets, and now I know enough secrets of important people to destroy you in ways you cannot even fathom.'

A dreadful shiver ran its way through Benedict's body as the realization sunk in that Carlisle, one of Charlie's scapegrace friends was now someone to be feared.

'Like the devil! You must think me a fool if you expect me to agree to those terms.'

'I don't think you a fool, Rothbury. I just think you desperate. Higgins would love nothing more than to cart Her Grace off in shackles. He has a real chip on his shoulder about aristocrats and wealthy people escaping justice.' And as if by way of explanation, he added, 'He's catholic, you see.'

Fuck.

Benedict was backed into a corner and the only way out was to make a deal with the devil.

But what was the alternative? Let his mother be carted away?

'We accept.' His mother's resolute voice cut across his hesitancy, brokering no room for argument.

'Oh, excellent. I knew I could count on you to be sensible.'

Carlisle rose from the chair, glass half full of alcohol in hand, and approached the corpse.

'What a pathetic son of a bitch,' he sighed. He emptied his glass by pouring it over Needham's shirt as Ben and his mother watched on in disbelief.

'What are you doing?' Lady Amelia demanded as Carlisle dragged Needham's body behind the desk.

'Me? Why, I'm doing nothing at all! I was never here. Neither were you or your son.' Came his strained voice as he attempted to lift Needham back into his chair behind the desk. 'Do come and lend me a hand, Higgins.'

'No, thank you, My Lord.'

'Oh, stop having so many scruples, constable. He was a wife-beater!' Carlisle replied cheerfully. 'By the look of it, he didn't even spare the servants. Have I ever asked you to do anything unjust? Have I ever condemned an innocent or set free someone who did not deserve it? Really. When you act like I am some villain, it truly hurts my feelings, you know.'

Higgins was silent for a moment before Ben saw the fight leave his body. He crossed himself once more and grabbed Needham's torso. 'I cannot say that you have been unjust, My Lord. But neither do you have justice as a goal when you ask me for... favors.'

Carlisle chuckled in amusement as the two of them finally seated Needham in his chair as Higgins retrieved the pistol and put it in Needham's hand. Ben could only watch, frozen in disbelief as if he was trapped in some bizarre dream.

'What a shame,' Carlisle purred as he straightened out Needham's clothing and rectified his cravat. 'Needham tried to clean his dueling pistols while drunk and ended up shooting himself. Isn't that right? He must have been very devastated at the loss of his wife. An open and shut case, do make a note of it in your report, Higgins.'

Accident with his dueling pistols?

Which was really the polite way to spin things in their world when someone committed suicide. That would still garner some unwanted attention, but it was the easiest explanation by far.

'Yes, My Lord.' Higgins sighed in resignation.

'Excellent. I do believe His Grace can arrange for your other son's commission in the Navy.'

The constable's face registered shock before he quickly concealed it once more. 'Your generosity is appreciated, Your Grace, but it is not necessary.'

'Oh, don't be such a prude, Higsy. No cover-up is complete without some hush money. Not fair that one son goes to Edinburgh for medicine and the other is stuck in smoggy London. That's how children come to resent each other, you know.' Carlisle placed a hand on the constable's shoulder and gave him a pat. 'Now, be a dear and pay off the servants, will you? Send the bill to His Grace, his lush pockets can afford it.'

Ben nodded, he didn't even have the presence of mind to argue.

'And do remember, Rothbury,' Carlisle smiled his Cheshire smile. 'The thing about making a deal with the devil is that the devil always collects.'

And with that, Carlisle walked to the door, took a bow that may have suited a stage production, and left two incredibly shell-shocked people behind. The third was unfortunately used to His Lordship's eccentricities, so he just sighed and set about bribing the household staff, who were only too happy to accept the money and leave London for a few months.

He had just become an accomplice in a murder.

He had just made a devil's bargain with a man he had known half his life and yet had somehow not known at all.

What the devil had just happened today?

Had it only been a few hours since he had his mother had sat down to luncheon?

By the time Ben reached home, his body had finally stopped trembling and his stomach had finally stopped churning. He resisted the urge to unbutton his blood-laden shirt, which had turned uncomfortably stiff. He pulled his coat closed so that his staff did not spot the bloody garment and then slipped upstairs as fast as possible to change.

He could not stop looking over his shoulder, as if waiting for the click of handcuffs across his wrists.

Once he was done, he slipped into the chambers of the adjoining room and watched his wife sleep peacefully. He whispered his love to her, his apologies, his pleas for another chance. He unburdened himself of the day's events and placed a quick kiss to her head. She was still warm, but less so than before. He contemplated waking her to ask her where she had hidden Ophelia but did not have the heart to do it. He consoled himself with the knowledge that his wife would have made sure that his sister was comfortable.

He felt exhaustion come crashing about his shoulders as his body finally realized that the worst of it was over. With leaden feet he headed for his own bed, knowing full well that he would not be welcome in his wife's. Perhaps he never would be again.

When he went back to his own room, he found his valet packing a valise for him.

'What are you doing?' Ben asked, even though all he wanted was to sleep.

'Her Grace has asked us to prepare your things for a trip to Plymouth. She has asked that the coach be readied as soon as you came home. I believe the coachman has an address for where Lady Needham is currently residing. I am under the impression that Her Ladyship intends to leave for Paris by the end of the week.'

His heart was apparently still capable of breaking.

Even after he had betrayed her like this, she had made arrangements for him to find his sister and bring her home.

He cast a mournful look at the door that connected their chambers.

I love you.

But she would likely never love him again.