She had not removed her gloves. Not since the warehouse. Not since Rodney.
Quinton stood at her side, arms crossed, jaw tight. He had refused to leave her side from the moment they’d left the dock.
Barrington’s fingers moved over the first page, his eyes narrowing as he turned each sheet. “These are real,” he said finally. “And dangerous.”
Mary-Ann nodded once. “There’s a forged partnership agreement near the back. It was meant to force my father’s hand. To legitimize Rodney’s control.”
Quinton added, “The Order needed Seaton Shipping clean on paper. That’s why they never named Mr. Seaton in any of the smuggling.”
Barrington looked up. “They were going to blackmail him.”
Mary-Ann’s voice was quiet. “Until they had no need to.”
He closed the folio with deliberate care. “You’ve struck a blow, Miss Seaton. And a hard one. There’s panic in the Order’s higher ranks. This was misplaced, you see.”
She frowned. “Misplaced?”
Barrington gave a single nod. “According to our man inside, the Order’s been looking for this folio before Quinton returned. No one knew who had it.”
At that, Quinton looked at Mary-Ann.
Her fingers brushed over the ribbon once more. “It wasn’t chance I found it.”
Barrington studied her. Then he sat back. “Two arrests were made last night. Men we’ve been trying to identify for months. One is still in government. The other recently retired from the military. Rathbone and Trent.”
“Will it be enough?” Quinton asked.
“No. But it’s more than we’ve had in years.” Barrington paused. “And it was your doing. Both of you.”
Quinton’s gaze flicked to Mary-Ann, his mouth softening. Pride, relief, and something long-buried, hope, perhaps, shone in his expression. He had seen her walk into fire. And win.
Mary-Ann didn’t look away. “This isn’t over.”
He nodded once, solemn. “Then let’s see it through.
*
The small meetingroom at Seaton Shipping had never felt so full.
Mr. Seaton sat at the head of the long table, his expression unreadable as the final pages of the folio were passed from hand to hand. Around the table sat three long-time associates of the company, gentlemen who had known her father since before Mary-Ann could walk, and one man from the Town Council, his seal case resting on the table beside him.
Mary-Ann stood beside her father, silent, her hands clasped behind her back. She had not spoken yet. She did not need to.
The Councilman cleared his throat. “This is sufficient. The ledger forgeries alone are damning, and the partnershipdocument…” He shook his head. “It’s plain fraud. There is no cause for further inquiry.”
One of the merchants leaned forward. “So Seaton Shipping’s name is restored?”
The Councilman gave a solemn nod. “Officially and without condition.”
The words did not echo, but they landed heavily, and Mary-Ann felt the shift as if the building itself exhaled.
Her father leaned back, looking older than he had hours before, but there was something else, too. A quiet breaking in his expression. As if a long-held shame had finally lifted.
“I owe my daughter more than I can ever repay,” he said, voice low but clear. “This company stands today because she refused to let it fall.”
Mary-Ann glanced down, overwhelmed.
“You were right,” he said, now looking at her. “About Rodney. About everything. I should have seen it sooner.”
