Miss Gray shuddered, her eyes darting to her friend. “Good heavens, we dined with her.”
Davenport let out a slow breath. “And where is she now?”
“She has been taken into custody and will be transported to London for trial,” Barrington confirmed. “Along with the other members of the Order that Grenville and Lady Bridget captured yesterday.” Barrington glanced at Grenville, his expression softening for a moment, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared risk. He turned back to the others. “The Order will not escape scrutiny.”
A hush settled over the room, expectant and uneasy.
Bridget took a steadying breath before she stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. “There is one more matter.” Bridget looked around the room. “I kept wondering why Alastair refused to sell the book. Why was it worth his life. It held more than secrets. It contained a list of people. Families. Members of the Order whose ties go back to the late 1600’s. It was where we found Lord Kerrington, Lady Worthington’s ancestor.” She turned to Marjory. “He also found Baron Ellington.”
As gasps swelled and murmurs began, Marjory’s head snapped up, fear flickering in her eyes. “What?”
Professor Tresham, who had been silent until now, retrieved a document from his coat. “Alastair found your maiden name, Ellington. But,” he hesitated, “we discovered a different Ellington line. Your family was not affiliated with the Order. Alastair wanted to prove it before coming to you. I brought him the final documentation when I arrived on Friday.”
Marjory inhaled sharply, her hands shaking. “So… he was trying to protect me.”
Bridget reached out, squeezing her hand. “Yes. And he succeeded. It is why he wouldn’t give them the book or the list.”
Marjory let out a shuddering breath, relief and sorrow warring in her expression. “He died protecting me.”
Barrington inclined his head. “Indeed. His actions ensured that the truth was uncovered.”
The guests absorbed the information in stunned silence. Lady Carlisle dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Miss Hathaway, usually so composed, whispered something to Miss Gray, who nodded solemnly.
Davenport exhaled. “Then it is over.”
Barrington’s gaze swept the room. “Yes, my friends. You are all free to leave this afternoon. The investigation is complete. Those responsible will face justice in London.”
A murmur of conversation rose among the guests. Lady Carlisle sat back in her chair, exhaling deeply, while Miss Hathaway exchanged a relieved glance with Miss Gray. Davenport rubbed the back of his neck, as though still absorbing the gravity of what had been revealed.
Blackwood, who had remained silent, finally pushed off from where he leaned against the fireplace. “The Order will not let this lie,” he said grimly. “You know that.”
Barrington met his gaze. “We’ve set events in motion. But for now, this house is safe. And those who need to answer for their crimes are on their way to London.”
Bridget turned to Thomas, their eyes meeting. No words were needed. The cost had been steep, but today, they had won.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The remnants ofthe past days still lingered in the drawing room, not in the form of spoken words but in the careful way the guests moved and the glances they exchanged. Though the immediate danger had passed, a quiet tension remained, a collective understanding that the events of the weekend had changed more than just their plans. The air, once thick with tension, now held a sense of quiet relief. Though the shadow of the Order still lingered, they had won a battle, and for now, that was enough.
Bridget stood near the fireplace, her fingers tracing the rim of a delicate porcelain teacup. Across the room, Thomas spoke in low tones with Barrington and Townsend, their expressions measured but not grim. Their work was not yet done, but for the first time in days, there was no immediate danger and that was a relief.
Marjory sat with Miss Hathaway and Miss Gray, her posture relaxed in a way it had not been since Alastair’s passing.
“I’m still deciding what to do,” she admitted, offering them a small smile. “Alastair Court is mine now, but I cannot decide whether to stay or return to London.”
Lady Carlisle stirred her tea thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bit of both? You deserve time to heal, but that doesn’t mean you must hide away in the countryside forever.”
Marjory’s gaze flicked to Bridget, something unspoken passing between them. “Perhaps.”
Before another word could be said, the butler appeared in the doorway. “My lady,” he announced, “Viscount Huntington and Laird McConnell have arrived.”
The room was filled with a heavy silence.
Bridget stiffened. Her teacup nearly slipped from her grasp, and across the room, Thomas straightened sharply in his chair. He quickly glanced at her. Their fathers had arrived together.
The doors swung open, revealing the two men laughing as if they were old friends. McConnell clapped Huntington on the back, clearly pleased with himself.
Bridget nearly choked.
