“At best, it is probably a common misdemeanor.” Ash shrugged, swinging the satchel in his right hand. While Mr. Humphrey had struggled with the weight, Ash carried it with ease. “If Moran keeps his temper in check, the judge might be lenient and give him time served.”
“And if he doesn’t?” I hated to think of the alternative. Every second away from Moran felt like a lifetime.
Lips pressed in a grim line, Ash shook his head. “We will address that if it happens. The sooner we arrive at the station, the better.” Ash tugged at his beard, his face drawn with worry.
A polished carriage that hinted at wealth was parked in front of the publishing house. I’d neglected to notice it in my hurry to seek out Ash.
“This is my carriage,” Mr. Humphrey said.
I hadn’t ridden in one this handsome in three years. Mr. Humphrey was very well-to-do. Ash assisted me inside before putting the satchel on the opposite seat. He sat next to me, the tension in his frame palpable. The solicitor gave directions to his driver before joining us in the well-appointed equipage.
My temples throbbed as the coachman put the vehicle in motion. “We will see him home soon enough.” Ash placed his hand on mine and squeezed, offering what comfort he could give.
“Mr. Humphrey, you are a godsend.” I leaned against Ash, unable to touch him the way I wished. To have his arms around me would help; however, we couldn’t be that friendly. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you dropped from the heavens at the most opportune moment.”
“You are too kind, Your Grace. I will do my best to clear this mess up in a trice.” Mr. Humphrey tapped his thumb on his expensive wool trousers, looking at home in the carriage’s expensive interior.
Ash flashed the solicitor a concerned glance, his gaze meeting mine with a question.
Either I could ignore the odd address, or resolve it. Moran’s freedom was in the balance. “Mr. Humphrey, that is the second time you have addressed me as such.” Perhaps he wasn’t in his right mind, and I was making a horrible mistake in trusting him.
A flush pinkened his cheeks, and he gripped the head of his cane. “I had wanted to wait until I spoke with the both of you together, but alas, I let it slip before I should.”
I gentled my voice, sure I had made a grave error. The elderly man appeared in control of his faculties, but looks were often deceiving. “It would appear so.”
“I am not sure if you heard that His Grace, the Duke of Moreland, and his son were killed in a boating accident.” He fiddled with the cane handle, his middle finger crooked with arthritis. “I am sure the news came as a bit of shock.”
“Yes, very shocking.” What this had to do with me was perplexing. Ash remained silent, allowing me to lead the conversation.
Mr. Humphrey tilted his head and studied me with a perplexed smile. “Well, your husband is next in line for the title. You, Mrs. Moran, are now the Duchess of Moreland.”
“I am not h—” A hysterical laugh bubbled into my throat, the pieces falling together all at once. Mr. Humphrey had called meMissand I corrected him withMrs., thus he assumed I was married to Moran.
“Are you telling me Moran is the new Duke of Moreland? Tobias James Moran?” Ash shook his head, his disbelief mirroring my own.
“Yes, the very same.”
Silence hung in the air as I absorbed the information. Never had Moran even hinted at his pedigree. Instead, he carried bitter contempt for the aristocracy. Yet he was one of them.
One of us.
Moran and I were both gentry. While my father’s title had been illustrious, Moran’s status as a duke was the highest rank one could have, save royalty.
The carriage turned into the Met, and I stared outside, trying to come to grips with everything that had transpired. OnceMoran took his title, the publishing house would no doubt close, and he would move on with his life.
There was still the matter of his arrest. I could hardly wait to assure myself he was safe. What the future would hold after that was up in the air. I only knew I needed to look after my own, no matter how much it tore me up inside to say goodbye.
