“And this would be it, then, wouldn’t it?” said Sir Duncan calmly.
“I…”
“Mr Blackstone,” Richard took a breath. “Perhaps you might be slightly confused. Especially in light of a report you may have heard concerning a recent act of violence in this area. I was the victim of that attack, set upon and robbed of most of my belongings.” He paused, but Blackstone’s face revealed nothing.
“However, I was most fortunate in that this document was not in the bag that was stolen. So this is, indeed, a faithful and official rendition of the property lines, and the position of the River Ban.”
Silence fell for a few moments, broken only by the crackle of the logs in the fireplace.
“I still think this is some sort of villainous scheme…” His furious gaze drifted over everyone in the room. “It is outrageous to imagine any of the things you are implying…”
Richard stopped him. “You would be well advised to go no further in your protestations, sir.” He reached into his pocket and removed something, keeping it concealed beneath his sleeve.
“Gentlemen, if you would observe…” he nodded at the other men. “Mr Blackstone is wearing a very fine pin in his cravat. I assume the letter “S” is for his first initial, and the decorative work around it seems unique.”
“It is my family crest, if you must know.” Blackstone’s chin lifted, and he gazed down his nose at Richard.
“Is it really…” he remarked. “Well, what an odd coincidence that is.”
All eyes were on his hand as he carefully put what he held down onto the table for everyone to see.
“If I’m not mistaken, Mr Blackstone, this…” he pointed at the engraving on the knife which gleamed in the sunlight, “is an exact match to your crest. Oh, and by the way? Those stains at the tip of the blade? My blood, sir. My blood.” He shook his head. “Your bully boys were quite dreadfully inept in their attempt to kill me and steal my papers. And using a weapon so easily tied to yourself? Carelessness beyond belief. I would suggest hiring more skilled assassins in the future should the occasion arise. Which, all things considered, I believe will be unlikely.”
The Viscount walked to the bell and rang it, at which point the door opened immediately and two burly footmen stepped in, accompanied by Ferguson.
“Mr Blackstone is leaving.” Lord Hawthorn’s voice was brutally cold. “Your carriage is waiting, sir, and anything you have left at Rosewood Park will be forwarded to you by Sir Duncan’s household staff. I suggest you return to London forthwith, before word of this unfortunate incident leaks to your business associates—which it inevitably will. In fact, I could safely predict that rumours will begin quite early in the new year, when Sir Duncan and I plan on travelling up together to take care of some legal matters. You have until then to attempt to redeem your reputation.”
Blackstone struggled, his mouth twitching with fury, his face reddening. “A pox on all of you,” he spat. “May each and every one of you fall in that damn river and rot.”
He strode from the room, pushing past the footmen, who turned immediately and followed him.
The three men left in the study heaved a collective sigh of relief, and as soon as the front door to Forest Grange banged shut behind Blackstone, the Viscount relaxed and grinned. “The blood was a nice touch, lad.”
Richard nodded. “In the interests of making a full confession about that, I had to nick my finger. Your servants had cleaned it too thoroughly, my Lord. But it worked.”
Sir Duncan beamed happily from the depths of his chair. “Well, it is my considered opinion that if ever there was a time for a brandy before lunch, this is it.”
There were no objections.
*~~*~~*
Holly, knowing that something big was going on since Richard and the rest of the men had disappeared, paced the corridors of Forest Grange, mumbling curses under her tongue. Most of them aimed at the cruel and unfair circumstances that led to her exclusion from whatever was happening in her father’s study.
However, a noise in the hall distracted her, and she turned her steps that way, only to be greeted by a shriek of joy.
“Holly,” shouted the young woman hurrying toward her. “Sweet girl. God, you’ve grown.”
“Cherry. I should’ve known it was you from the noise. And no, I haven’t grown. You’ve only been gone a little while, you nodcock.”
They stared at each other, burst into laughter, and then hugged and bounced happily together, an affectionate exchange that brought smiles to everyone in the hall.
“Garrett,” Holly let go of her sister and rushed to hug her brother-in-law. “Did you have a good journey? We were worried that you wouldn’t be able to make it for Christmas.”
“Darlings, you’re here.”
The noise in the hall rose to an acceptable hubbub as the Trease ladies welcomed the Duke of Belcaster, his wife, and several assorted servants.
Rooms had been prepared, of course, and so it wasn’t long before Holly found herself in a small sitting room, watching Cherry as she unpacked a little writing case.
