The golden clock on the heavy oak mantle struck midnight just as the heavy velvet curtains began to flutter slightly. Lord Ashford lay perfectly still across the Persian rug while a single drop of wine stained his pristine white collar. Nobody heard the muffled thud of the falling brass candlestick or the quick footsteps retreating down the dark servant hallway. Rain lashed against the tall library windows as the smell of bitter almonds lingered in the chilled and stagnant air. The silver tray held two crystal glasses but only one contained the lethal dose that ended a very long legacy.