"Of course she didn't agree to marry me!" Winston exploded exasperatedly.

"And you never saw her that evening?" Nate asked again.

"No, I did not."

"Good," Nate sighed, relieved.

"What did you say?" Winston narrowed his eyes.

"I said that I'm sorry," Nate cleared his throat. "Is there anything else about last night that you found peculiar?"

"I've told you everything, Duke," Winston groaned. "I was looking for Fiona and right after I asked you, Lady Sophia told me that she saw Fiona heading towards the balcony. I went there but there was nobody there. I suppose Lady Sophia must've been mistaken. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find some whiskey."

Nate was too stunned to speak and let him go.

Sophia had told Winston that? Hadn't she told him that she'd seen them speaking to each other in private.

Warning bells went off in his head and he began to feel the truth dawning on him.

Fiona was innocent. He'd even seen the walking stick in her hand when she'd entered his mother's chamber that night. She'd been trying to tell him and his mother had told him but he'd let his own jealousy and Sophia's comments blind him to the truth.

But he couldn't confront Sophia only on the basis of his suspicions.

Very well, he'd just talk to her.

"Your grace, beg pardon but I would request you to come to the library," Winterbottom said, approaching him.

"What is it?" Nate asked him, not liking the expression on his butler's usually expressionless face.

"After her grace fell last night, I couldn't sleep all night, your grace. And the fact that you held Miss Butterworth responsible didn't sit with me either..."

"And?" Nate raised one eyebrow.

"So I asked questions all morning and have discovered the real culprit."

He pushed open the door to the library and found a footman standing inside.

"Him?" Nate asked dubiously.

"He was the one who knocked her down, your grace," Winterbottom nodded.

"Why?" Nate asked even as he quickly marched towards the younger man and caught hold of his collar.

"Somebody made me do it, your grace! I had no personal vengeance," the boy stuttered.

"Who?" Nate spat.

The footman swallowed uncomfortably and licked his dry lips but said nothing.

"Tell me and I'll not kill you for hurting my mother," Nate said menacingly.

"It was Becca, she said her mistress would make her life miserable if she didn't have this job done," the footman finally said and sagged. "And I love Becca!" he puffed up his chest.

Nate let him go and the boy crumpled to the floor. "Who the devil is Becca?!"

"She's a Lady's maid."

"Which Lady?" Nate growled impatiently.

"Lady Sophia's."

Winterbottom looked horrified but Nate wasn't very surprised. He'd already suspected that Sophia was behind all this.

The question was why.

He asked Winterbottom to dismiss the boy and exited the library. He had to find that fiancé of his. She owed him some answers.

As he'd suspected, he found her in the main hall, surrounded by her bevy of admirers.

"Sophia, we need to talk."

"Oh Nathaniel! There you are. How is your mother? I couldn't sleep all night after seeing her in so much pain," she pouted and put a hand to her heart with a dramatic flourish.

"As it happens, I intend to speak of her," Nate replied curtly.

"Of course," she tittered nervously and slid her hand up his arm. He lead her out and towards the gardens.

"What is it? You're making me nervous," she smiled when they finally reached the gardens.

"Why did you have that footman push my mother down? Was it because of your jealousy towards Fiona?"

Her eyes widened in fear. "What are you saying, Nathaniel?! I would never do that to your mother!"

"Either you tell me here or I question you in front of all the guests. Before all of your peers."

She seemed to think for a few moments, her hands fluttering by her sides.

"Fine. I did it."

"Why?" Nate growled.

"Because I hate her! I kept asking you to stay away from that worthless companion but you didn't listen."

"Get out of my sight. And don't ever try to speak to me again."

"But Nate, I did this for us!" She wailed and latched onto his arm. "How could we have had a happy marriage if that companion lived in this house?! Not that I intended to stay here at all but we would visit your mother for Christmas and—"

"What?" he asked, cutting her off. She swallowed at the dangerously low volume of his voice.

"It's just that at her age, London would exhaust her. Surely you see that..." she hedged.

"Yes, London would exhaust her. Which was why I intended to stay here 'round the year. With my mother," Nate said firmly and drew away her grasping hands from his arm. "You are the worst woman I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, Lady Sophia. I rue the day I proposed to you but at least I saw your true colours now."

"I suppose I have Fiona to thank for that, along with many other things," Nate added more softly.

"She's the reason all this is happening!" Sophia wailed pitifully.

"Is she? If you would've told me that you wished to dismiss her, as my duchess you would've had every right to ask that of me. Instead you chose to go about this in a backhanded manner. You even attempted to hurt my mother."

"Nathaniel, surely you can forgive me!"

"I cannot. So you either go back to the hall, tell everyone that you've chosen to call off our wedding, pack your things and leave or I can tell everyone about what you've done and ruin your reputation in the ton."

"You wouldn't!" her eyes widened with disbelief.

"I assure you, I most definitely would."

"And then what? Marry your stupid companion?" Sophia spat.

"If she'll still have me, yes," he said softly. "And you speak of my future duchess, Lady Sophia. So I suggest you exercise some restraint on how you address her."

"She's not as good as me."

"Yes, she's even better. Hell, I wouldn't degrade her by comparing her to you. Now you may leave," Nate inclined his head.

Sophia turned around and stormed off.

Nate felt a huge weight being lifted off his chest. Now all he had to do was apologise to Fiona and ask her if she loved him as much as he loved her.

As simple as that sounded, Nate knew that it was a task of mammoth proportions.