Chapter 95

According to the report, Fenwick had suggested on several occasions that the recent disturbances in the duchy were evidence of poor oversight and a failure of Draven’s leadership.

He had remarked that Norham had become less secure during the Duke’s absences and questioned whether Draven’s attention had been drawn away by matters beyond the duchy.

There had also been criticism of Draven’s manner of governance.

Too severe.

Too distant from the old families.

Too unwilling to listen.

Too quick to make decisions without consulting men who had governed their estates for decades.

There was hardly an opportunity Fenwick allowed to pass without finding some new fault to speak of. Their relationship had always been tenuous, but matters had deteriorated considerably after the late duke’s death.

Yet even at the height of their feud, Fenwick had never been so open with his disdain. Now, he did not even seem inclined to conceal it.

Which was precisely why Draven made certain to keep eyes and ears in Norham even while he was at the capital. His informants kept him apprised of everything that occurred in his absence, and they had meticulously documented Fenwick’s recent efforts to undermine him.

The report continued to outline the gatherings Fenwick recently attended, people with whom he spent considerable time, and the several individuals who had begun repeating similar criticisms.

Viscount Fenwick had been one of his father’s close acquaintances, a man who had once enjoyed considerable access to the previous Duke of Norham, along with the privileges and liberties that came with such familiarity.

After Geoffrey’s death, Fenwick had expected Draven to fall easily into his hands, given how young he had been when he inherited the dukedom.

Being older and more experienced, he assumed the new Duke would naturally seek out his advice and counsel, giving Fenwick the opportunity to preserve the foothold he had within the Montague family. But Draven had thwarted him at every turn, refusing to rely on him and giving him no opportunity to establish the influence he counted on.

Fenwick wasn’t pleased by this, to say the least. Since then, he has made himself a thorn in Draven’s side.

Draven placed the report upon the desk and looked toward the tall windows and the darkness that lay beyond it.

The smuggling itself was troublesome enough. It had already created problems that demanded his attention, and he had no intention of allowing the operation to become more deeply established in Norham. Fenwick’s pettiness was the last thing he needed.

He folded the report and placed it beside the other documents.

"Leave this with me."

His secretary sketched a bow before leaving.

—

The following day, a messenger arrived with a special invitation from the Dowager Marchioness of Vawdrey. One of the servants received it and carried it directly to Octavia.

Genie, never one for patience, leaned over her mother’s shoulder to read the contents the moment Octavia broke the wax seal.

The dowager was hosting a grand dinner and had expressed her hope that they would attend.

There was little doubt that Octavia and Genie would be present, but Draven remained the uncertain element. If anything, the dowager was likely anticipating his presence more than theirs.

"Do you think Draven will want to come with us?" Genie asked, giving voice to the question that had been occupying her thoughts since she finished reading the invitation.

"We shall all go," Octavia said, folding the invitation neatly. "Winifred is a dear friend of this family, and it would be discourteous to refuse such a generous invitation."

A short while later, Octavia made her way up the flights of stairs to Draven’s chamber, the invitation still clutched in her hand.

Octavia knocked three times on Draven’s door. His voice came through the wood, muffled but clear enough to grant her permission to enter.

She opened the door and found Draven standing before the full-length mirror, fastening the final knot of his cravat. One of his attendants was nearby, making the last preparations for his master’s departure.

Octavia stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her.

Draven caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. He did not turn immediately, but his eyes followed her approach through the glass as she walked across the room.

"We received an invitation from the Dowager Marchioness of Vawdrey," Octavia said. "She is hosting a dinner at her residence and has asked for our attendance."

Draven finished the knot of his cravat and finally turned to face his mother.

Octavia held out the invitation. "Eugenia and I have already agreed to attend. We would like you to join us."

He accepted it from her and unfolded it, his eyes moving over the contents.

After a brief moment, he nodded. "Very well. I will come."

Octavia smiled, though she did not immediately leave. There was something else on her mind.

"Although there is one thing. There is a good possibility Fenwick will be there," she said. "In fact, I would be surprised if he were not. These are precisely the sort of gatherings he is fond of frequenting."

Octavia studied him for another moment. She knew the history between the two men too well.

She also knew how that relationship had changed for the worse after Draven inherited the title.

"I thought you might wish to know before accepting." She added, reaching to smooth a crease on his coat.

"Why should his presence matter?" Draven asked, nonchalant. "If anything, it is convenient that he will be there."

Octavia’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Convenient?"

"There are things we need to discuss. A conversation between us is long overdue. Afterward, if he still wishes to pursue this obsession of his, then he may do so—but he will have to accept the consequences." He smiled down at her. His mother was a little taller than average, yet he still towered over her. His father had been a very tall man, and he had inherited that particular trait from him. "I have been lenient with him, wouldn’t you say? Some might even call me too lenient. I sometimes wonder how Father managed to tolerate a man like him."

"Try not to terrify the old man." Octavia chuckled. "Not that he wouldn’t deserve it. I just don’t want you making a scene at Winifred’s dinner. She can be cantankerous when displeased and I will be the one stuck listening to her woes."

"I have no intention of causing a scene at someone else’s dinner." He reassured her, putting her mind at ease.

"Good." She lingered for a moment, as though there were something more she wished to say. The words seemed poised on her tongue, but after a brief hesitation, she thought better of it and left.