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“Spit it out, damn it,” Ezra demanded.

“The duchesses stated you were each to follow the commands they left you, Your Graces, and that they would be home soon.”

“Let’s get the horses,” Duncan urged, already striding toward the front door, “They are probably in London. We can search every street until we find their doomed souls.”

“The horses are gone, Your Grace,” Radley replied. “The duchess had them all sent off this morning to the opposite side of Frampton.”

“Go get them!” Ezra, Duncan, and Ambrose commanded in unison.

“With respect, Your Graces, the path on foot would take hours both to the pasture and back. The ladies shall be returning long before the horses arrive.”

Something exploded in Ezra’s brain; a pain behind his right eye as his rage and helplessness reached a new level.

“When I get my hands on her,” Ambrose growled by Ezra’s side, his hands curling toward one another.

“Days,” Duncan spat out beside him, the fury apparent in his voice, “I am going to have her strung up fordays.”

Ezra did not trust himself to speak aloud about what he was going to do to Lydia when she returned.

“I need a bout in the ring,” Ezra grunted, striding toward his exercise room.

Ezra did not need to hear the mutterings of agreements from his two friends to know that they were close behind; all of them needing to work out the frustrations. Still, through the layers of rage and humiliation of being duped, Ezra felt a sense of pride. And, perhaps, after his need for retribution was sated, he would reward her for that.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Lydia said politely, curtsying graciously toward Sophia.

The Dowager Duchess of Frampton drew her beautiful porcelain face into a sneer and looked not toward Lydia and her friends, but at the two large men behind them.

Lydia had shared her plan with her friends to confront Sophia while their husbands were away, and though she had insisted that she should go alone, Alice, Barbara, Helena, and even Juliet, all refused.

“As if you gave me a choice,” Sophia replied bitterly, finally flicking her eyes over the group of women before her.

“I would offer you a seat, but that would indicate that you are welcome, and you are not.”

“I shall be quick about this then,” Lydia quipped back, unbothered by the woman’s sharp tone.

“I know my husband came here to question you, and you did not reach out to him, but you will not have contact with him any further.”

Sophia snickered and rolled her eyes.

“That will be easy,” she retorted.

“It will,” Lydia agreed, seeing as you will no longer be living in this part of the country.”

Sophia’s dark brows drew down as she sneered.

“Ibegyour pardon?” she seethed.

“This is my home! My right! You have no authority-”

“As reigning Duchess of Frampton I have every authority,” Lydia replied calmly.

“You, as a widow of the late Duke of Frampton, were awarded this residence as a courtesy, but that time has since passed. You come from wealth, yes? That is how you occupy this place with staff and parties and such?”

“My money is none of your concern,” Sophia snarled, her voice trembling with rage.

“You are, of course, absolutely correct,” Lydia agreed wholeheartedly, “But this house is. So, whether or not you are able to fund it, you shall be moving. Presently, in fact, though you do have a week to be completely gone.”

Lydia looked up and around the room, smiling as she took in the rather posh sitting parlor.