― Paulo Coelho, The Witch Of Portobello

It was cold and windy. Rhea glanced about her, noting that they were on the docks now. It all seemed a blur, walking from the warehouse to the docks. The jostling, cursing, and shoving had fallen to her numb mind without a thought. She clutched her robe closer to her body, shielding her stomach as much as she could.

Lord Ashwin was clutching her arm in a firm hand. She had caught him staring at her multiple times and felt uneasy. What were they planning on doing to her? She tried to not dwell upon it, but the thought pressed to the forefront of her mind relentlessly.

"W-what are we doing here?" she demanded, finally speaking up. Thankfully, they had left Leia behind, and Rhea could only hope that her husband might find her, if he did not first find Rhea. She shivered again, inadequately dressed for the chilling weather.

The sky seemed clogged with snow clouds, and Rhea desperately prayed that they would hold out for a while longer.

Lord Utteridge caught her eye and grinned at her. "Why, my dear, we're waiting on your beloved husband. He should be arriving very soon, I should think."

"W-what . . . What will you do?" Rhea questioned, fear pouring itself into her heart.

Utteridge shrugged, carefree, but Rhea detected the underlying menace, the hate that glanced off his eyes. "All in good time, my dear,"

"P-please, my lord, don't hurt him. He is innocent-"

Utteridge interrupted her, "I wouldn't be so sure. There are many crimes against his name,"

"Perhaps you could bring it to the courts? Then, surely, it will be settled? I am sure of it. You are quite reputable, my lord, and your good nature is seen by all." Rhea voiced, not necessarily sure what she was saying. She didn't care what crimes were against Hadrian, she only did not want to see him hurt, and she had no doubt that that was exactly what Utteridge had in store.

The sound of Utteridge's belting laughs startled her out of her tumultuous thoughts. "I cannot say how pleased I am that you think I am reputable, my lady. Unfortunately, the rest is useless. You see, I am no lord. I never was."

Rhea's mouth fell open, she tried to speak again but was interrupted once more.

"Enough of your talk, chit," Lady Carolotta sneered. "It won't matter, in the end, anyway."

Rhea bit her tongue from saying more. She didn't want to aggravate Utteridge anymore than he already was. She glanced around again and noticed there was a carriage waiting, about a few yards away. It was the same carriage Utteridge and Ashwin had kidnapped her and Leia in. She wondered what it was doing here. Were they leaving with Hadrian someplace?

Ashwin shifted next to her, and to her horror, he had moved closer and was now leaning down to her ear. "Are you cold, my sweet? Do not you worry, my lady, all of this nonsense will be dealt with soon enough, and off we shall be."

"We?" Rhea uttered, looking at the deluded young lord. "What do you mean?"

Ashwin smiled handsomely, "Why, it would be you and I, of course. John and Lottie, too. Once this nasty business is over with, we'll be starting our new lives, in America."

"America?" Rhea repeated. She was astounded. The young lord was surely mad; she would not be going anywhere without Hadrian. "You are mad. I am not going anywhere with you. I will remain here with Hadrian, my husband."

Ashwin scowled. "You will no longer be married to that bastard. In fact, I must say, you will be quite the beautiful widow when I sweep in to make you my wife."

He was delirious with worry. He had no idea if Rhea was alright. Though he doubted Beckham would go to such stakes as to kill her, he wasn't completely confidant that the man would try anything and everything else.

His mind spun with scenarios, and he shook his head to rid himself of them. He urged his horse faster, the docks coming into view. Anxiety ate at him as he took in the rundown setting.

It was no wonder they had not been able to find the man. Beckham had been closer to home than he realized. The thought made him angry at himself. He should've known. But how could he? Beckham was unpredictable; he had no clue what he was coming into, no clue about the state of his wife and Lady Edmond.

No damn clue at all and the though itched at his skin, sweat dampening his clothing despite the cold, frigid air. He was surprised it hadn't already snowed, but glad it didn't, as it would have hindered his journey.

Finally, the location in which the note had listed was in view, and he spotted a carriage a ways off. The horse had barely begun to trot when he was already off, on the ground, striding purposefully towards the dock.

Four figures came into view, Hadrian's eyes immediately locked onto the smallest form there, and breathed a slight sigh of relief when his eyes fell upon the unharmed body of his wife. Then he switched to the sturdier form and launched at him.

But before his fist could pound into the man, Beckham had pulled out a gun, aiming it straight at his wife, halting him in his steps. Beckham laughed delightedly.

"Ah, Hadrian, you are quite predictable." Beckham smiled. Hadrian ignored him and glanced at his wife, then back at Beckham.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He demanded through clenched teeth. His heart stopped at the fear flooding it. His wife's eyes were on him, wide and glimmering with tears. She nodded quickly.

"Don't look at him!"

Hadrian's eyes shot up to the figure beside her and he nearly crushed his teeth in anger when he recognized the damned coward, Ashwin. He would kill the young idiot; slowly, torturously.

"You will die." He said, staring directly into Ashwin's eyes. The young lord shifted, his eyes creasing. Apparently, he did not know when death stared him in the face.

"You will not have the chance, my lord," Ashwin said mockingly, "Do not worry, I will take good care of her."

Hadrian's entire body stiffened. It took everything inside of him to not destroy the boy in that moment. He turned, slowly, back to Beckham.

"What crime do you have against me? Why take my wife, damn you?" Hadrian questioned.

Beckham's eyes squinted at him, and that was when Hadrian saw the full-body hatred. He was taken aback. He had no inkling as to why Beckham would look at him in such a way.

"I have waited many, many years for this day." Beckham said. "I have waited patiently to crush you. To destroy you so utterly that, in no way, could death ever compare."

"Why?" Hadrian demanded.

Beckham smiled, glancing sideways at Rhea. "You surprised me, with her. She reminds me very much of my own mother." He walked toward Rhea, lifting up a wayward curl. Hadrian clenched his fist, taking a step forward, but Beckham caught him.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said, pressing the gun into his wife's shoulder. "Not another move, my lord. All will be revealed. You must learn patience. I see, in that way, you are like your father."

Hadrian's brows raised. His father? The damned, rotten old fool was dead. Buried six feet under, where he belonged. Hadrian was glad to see him go. He had been a menace, with an iron fist, abusing him and his dear mother, until her death.

Hadrian's gaze became shuttered. "I am nothing like him."

Beckham shook his head, "Indeed you are. How about I tell you a story. A story of a young woman, who hoped and dreamed of a handsome young lord who would take her away from her troubles as a poor maiden. A woman who was gentle and meek. Much like your own wife, no? Nonetheless, she didn't get her wish. Not like she wanted it, mind you. She desired the wrong lord, you see, and his friend, who lusted after her, became jealous."

Beckham's voice became harder, sterner, as he continued, "So that jealous young lord devised to take her . . . and he did. In the worst way. He preyed upon her innocence and snatched away her maidenhead by forcing himself on her. He did this for many months, years even. Apparently he fancied her. Not enough, though, to give her his name. No, that was for a lady, someone worthy of the title.

"Finally, the previously gentle young woman, who was now damaged and ruined had had enough. But the bastard wasn't ready to give her up. In his passion, in his anger, he killed her, left, and never returned. He left nothing behind except his bastard son.

"That bastard young boy who vowed to make that lord pay. To ruin him, his family, his name, anything that would destroy his world."

"Beckham-" Hadrian started, but Beckham spoke over him.

"Unfortunately, it seems I missed Lord Vale by a few years. So, it seems I must make do with his heir. Something my mother and I could never be worthy of, despite everything."

"I know how-" Hadrian tried again to reach the man, to try and lessen the consequences of his actions, but, it seemed, with his story, Beckham was more determined.

"You don't know anything!" Beckham screamed, startling the small group. The man had been calm only moments before his outburst.

"You have no comprehension of the pain, the suffering, the heartbreak my mother went through. No, you cannot, you could not. You, Lord Vale, have lived a life of grandeur. You haven't lost like she did. Like I have." Beckham had stepped away from Rhea and Ashwin. "But you will."

He was now standing in front of Hadrian, only a few feet away. Hadrian's heart dropped to his stomach when Beckham aimed the gun at Rhea's chest and pulled the trigger.