Frederick’s brow knit. He found a seat. “So, we have Lord Orvilleton, Lord Cherrington, and perhaps others watching. Lord Redley was silenced. And yet you intend to use what remains of his trail to expose them?”
Lucas’s voice was calm, but iron ran through it as he said, “Yes. And we must move quickly. The moment they suspectwe close in, the trail will vanish. William—continue collating manifests and ledgers. Frederick—observe Orvilleton’s circle and report anything unusual. I”—he hesitated, the words heavy—“I will see to the Tremaines’ safety personally, if required.”
William tilted his head, sensing the unspoken concern. “How far does your dedication to my sister extend, Your Grace?”
Lucas’s lips tightened. “As far as my body will allow. She must not—cannot—be touched by any harm, whether intentional or collateral. Her presence complicates matters, yes. But it also steels my resolve.”
William exchanged a glance with Frederick. “It seems, Your Grace, your care may be both shield and sword.”
Lucas allowed a brief, grim smile. “Let it be both. I will not fail in either role.”
Frederick inclined his head. “Very well. I will resume surveillance at once. Reports will be forwarded directly.”
William carefully gathered the papers. “And I will cross-check the ledgers against the shipping logs and the recovered documents from my father’s study and mine. If there is any pattern we have overlooked, I will find it.”
Lucas watched them both, a fleeting sense of gratitude breaking through the tension. “Do so. And Frederick—” He paused, the words deliberate. “Be prepared for the unexpected. Lord Orvilleton is likely to act if he suspects Lord Redley has been silenced in a way that draws attention.”
Frederick inclined his head. “I will take every precaution.”
Henry, who had been silent in a corner, now rose. “Lucas, you speak of duty and protection. But remember—you cannot shoulder every danger alone. Even your vigilance has its limits.”
Lucas turned to him sharply, eyes flickering with the intensity of his concern. “I know that. But this—this involves more than duty. It is justice, it is retribution, and it is protection. And for some, it is… personal.”
Henry did not press further. He knew that Lucas’s private reasons were entwined with his duty in ways even he could scarcely untangle. Instead, he allowed a moment of silence to hang, the weight of responsibility pressing in on them all.
Lucas’s eyes fell to the scattered papers once more, the firelight catching the edges. Ambrose’s ledger, the traces of his own father’s notes, the irregularities in shipping—all threads converging toward a pattern that must be uncovered before it vanished completely. And yet… even amid the scheming and danger, his thoughts could not resist wandering to her—to Elowen.
He pressed a hand to his lips, recalling the softness of her mouth against his, the brief, transformative warmth that had left him both restless and resolute. He must not let this personal concern interfere with their mission. And yet, it was inseparable.
The silence was not empty; it was the silence of preparation, of minds already turning to action, plotting the next steps in a game whose stakes were higher than most could comprehend.
Henry finally spoke, voice low. “Do not let her enter danger for want of restraint, Lucas. And do not let your feelings—whatever they are—prevent action where it is needed most.”
Lucas’s gaze returned to the papers, to the faint inked lines of accounts and manifests, to the legacy of his father and the dangers to the Tremaines. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself.
“I will act,” he said, quiet and resolute. “I will protect her. Above all else, she will be safe. Justice will be done; those who conspired against my family and the Tremaines will not go unpunished. That I promise.”
The fire snapped as if in answer. Outside, London stirred to life, unaware of the plots and counterplots already in motion behind closed doors.
And Lucas, seated amid the evidence and the weight of responsibility, allowed himself the smallest, private thought: soon, Elowen will be safe, and perhaps, one day, she may understand the truth behind my vigilance.
For now, there was work to be done—and time would brook no hesitation.
Chapter Nineteen
The fog had thickened over London, curling along the narrow streets like a watchful presence. Elowen walked quickly, her gloved fingers tightening around her reticule, her mind a tangle of half-formed worries. The conversation with William replayed in fragments—Victor’s intrusion, the shipping records, the growing sense of peril surrounding her family. Every step seemed weighted by thoughts she could scarcely order.
“I suppose we should take the shorter route back, miss,” Agnes said beside her, her voice calm but deliberate. She guided Elowen slightly to the side. “It’s quieter and less crowded.”
Elowen nodded absently. “Yes… quieter.”
“My lady?” Agnes pressed gently. “You do hear me, don’t you?”
“I hear you,” Elowen said, forcing herself to focus. “Forgive me. My thoughts are quite muddled of late.”
Agnes adjusted her bag, casting a cautious glance down the narrow lane ahead. “Then may I offer a word my mother used to tell me?”
Elowen sighed faintly. “Very well.”
