“They’re not lost,” Alex murmured. “They’re looking for someone.”
Chapter Seventeen
They rode insilence until Georgina’s gate came into view. The lanterns were already lit against the gathering dusk. Alex dismounted first, offering his hand as she stepped down from her saddle with more grace than he had any right to expect after such a day.
“I’ll study the receipts and ledgers,” she said, her voice low and steady.
He didn’t answer right away. He watched as she slipped inside, the folio still tucked under her arm. When the door closed behind her, he turned back to Barrington.
“We’ll need her insight on the rest of it,” Alex said as he mounted his horse.
“And ensure she is out of harm’s way,” Barrington said. “There is much to discuss. Let’s get to Sommer Chase.”
A soft glow shone from one of the upper windows of Ravenstock Manor as they turned from the gate. Alex lingered a moment, glancing back. He couldn’t see her, but he pictured her at her desk, head bent over the folio, sleeves pushed up, determination set in every line of her.
“You’ve seen that look before,” Barrington said as he nudged his horse into motion.
“On you,” Alex replied. “Just before we breached the southern wall at Ciudad Rodrigo.”
Barrington gave a dry grunt. “That ended with a limp and threedays unconscious. Let’s hope she’s smarter than we were.”
The ride to Barrington’s estate passed in near silence, the kind of silence that settles between two men already thinking in the same direction. The sun had slipped low by the time they turned off the coastal road, casting long shadows across the frost-dusted hedgerows. Alex let his horse fall into pace beside Barrington’s.
“Carver wasn’t just afraid,” Alex said quietly. “He’d already surrendered.”
Barrington gave a single nod. “That kind of fear doesn’t come from one man with a ledger. It comes from the kind of pressure you don’t talk about. The kind they used during the war.”
Alex glanced at him. “You think it’s the Order.”
“I’d stake my commission on it.” He guided his mount through the open gate. “They isolate, threaten, then wait. They watch a man ruin himself to protect his family.”
Barrington added another log to the fire and settled back into his chair.
“This isn’t just about stolen coal,” he said, eyes fixed on the flame. “It’s too deliberate.”
Alex looked over. “You think it’s orchestrated.”
“I think someone’s pulling strings we haven’t even seen yet. Quiet hands. Patient ones.”
Alex’s brow tightened. “You have a name?”
Barrington shook his head. “Not yet. But if I ever meet the man behind this, I’ll recognize his methods.”
Alex thought of Carver’s stiff posture, his clipped answers, the way his eyes kept darting toward the empty yard. It hadn’t been resistance. It had been resignation. And he’d seen it before. It had been in his father’s eyes, just before the estate began its slow decline. The silence after his father signed away his shipping contract had been heavier than any raised voice. And he had missed it entirely, too young to see what fear looked like in a man who had run out of options.
Barrington didn’t bother removing his coat once inside. Instead, he led Alex straight to the study, where a fire already smoldered low. He crossed to his writing desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.
“Edward needs to know what we’ve found.”
Alex dropped into the leather chair opposite. “Will he listen?”
“He’s been listening for years. He just hasn’t had proof.” Barrington dipped his pen, scrawling in a tight, decisive hand. “There’s a rot in government, and Edward means to dig it out. I just need to give him the spade.”
Alex watched the ink pool into clean lines. “You trust him?”
“With my life.” He paused. “And with Honoria’s.”
Alex looked up. Barrington gave a wry twist of a smile. “He’s been telling me to marry Honoria for years. Said I was wasting her time, and mine. I asked her more than once.”
