“It was more than worth it,” Alex said, closing the folio with deliberate care. His gaze lifted to hers, steady and unreadable except for the faintest flicker of something deeper.
“You’ve done more than bring us a clue. You’ve confirmed everything we feared.”
Their eyes met, and in that moment, Georgina saw something behind his calm, respect, yes, but also something heavier. A quiet alignment. A shift.
Georgina looked at the folio. Her thoughts moved quickly now, lining one truth beside another.
“It said the delivery was from Hawkesbury,” she murmured. “But that makes no sense. Rowland had no dealings with your mine, Alex.”
Alex’s brow furrowed. “No. He didn’t.”
She glanced up. “Then why use the name? Why forge a record tying my husband to your estate? Perhaps they wanted to make it harder to untangle the truth.”
Barrington straightened, catching the thread. “Or to cast doubt. If someone started asking questions, they could point to a shared transaction and muddy the waters.”
“They used Hawkesbury’s name,” Georgina said, her voice gaining strength, “to hide the trail. And Rowland’s to validate it.”
Alex nodded grimly. “They’ve folded both of us into the same deception. That’s not a coincidence.”
They had scarcely begun to sift through the remaining pages of the folio when footsteps echoed from the hall beyond the library doors.
Barrington turned just as Kenworth, his valet, entered, shouldersstill slick with the autumn drizzle. His boots left a trail of water on the polished floor, and rain-darkened gloves clutched a single folded note, sealed in blue wax. He looked as though he’d ridden hard, and harder still to contain whatever message he carried.
“A message for you, sir,” he said, crossing the room with practiced efficiency. “Delivered from Mrs. Bainbridge, with the request that it reach you directly.”
Barrington took the note. His brow tightened as he broke the seal and scanned the page.
Alex stepped to his side, eyes narrowing as he read over Barrington’s shoulder.
Barrington turned the note so both could see the familiar, tidy script.
My lord,
While reviewing the ledgers for the seminary household accounts, I encountered an entry that does not correspond with any authorized disbursement. It concerns a purchase of coal from Hawkesbury Mine, dated several weeks after Lady Georgina’s loss. Yet the payment was directed to an unfamiliar account name, one I cannot trace to our suppliers. I thought it best to bring it to your attention without delay.
—H. Bainbridge
Barrington exhaled a slow breath. “Another posthumous transaction.”
“A familiar hand at work,” Alex added grimly, his gaze lingering on the letter. “They’ve extended their reach into the seminary’s accounts.”
Georgina stepped closer, reading over Barrington’s arm. “It means they’ve been at this longer, and in more places, than we feared.” Her pulse thudded in her ears as her eyes fixed on the unfamiliar account name. Whoever had orchestrated this scheme had done so with precision, weaving their deceit through corners no one thought toquestion, until now.
Alex’s eyes met hers, steady and clear. “It does.”
A thoughtful silence followed, thick with what they now understood. This was bigger than any of them had wanted to admit.
“We’ll need to see those ledgers for ourselves,” Barrington said, folding the note and tapping it against his palm.
“I can arrange that,” Georgina offered without hesitation.
Alex closed the folio with deliberate care, gathering the documents as though bracing for the battle ahead. “No more surprises. From this moment on, we search with purpose.”
Georgina said nothing at first. His words did not startle her. They settled slowly, like truth often did, without drama, but with impact. She was no longer just Rowland’s widow sorting through the past. She was in this now, not by chance, but by choice.
She met Alex’s gaze, her voice calm and certain. “Then let’s begin.” No longer the widow uncovering her past, but the woman claiming her future.
Chapter Eleven
