Edward’s gaze held hers, fierce and unwavering. “Yes,” he said. “He did.”
For the first time since stepping into the village, she did not feel as though the ground were shifting beneath her. The revelation had shaken her, but it had also clarified something essential.
This was not a wedge between them.
It was proof of how far William was willing to go.
And how far they would have to go to stop him.
***
They returned to Ashford just as the afternoon light began to soften, the manor rising out of the landscape like something reclaimed rather than endured.
Charlotte’s heart was in her throat the entire drive. She had left this place believing she would never see it again. Now every turn of the road felt unreal, as though the world might still change its mind and send her back into exile.
Julian was the first to see them.
He came barreling down the steps the moment the carriage stopped, his joy unrestrained, his face lit with disbelief that turned instantly to certainty when he saw her. He did not wait for assistance. He did not wait for permission. He ran straight into her arms.
“You came back,” he said, breathless, burying his face against her coat. “I knew you would.”
Charlotte knelt without thinking and held him tightly, her eyes burning. “I promised you,” she whispered into his hair. “I will not vanish again.”
Edward stood just behind them, one hand resting briefly on Julian’s shoulder, his expression unreadable but intent, as though anchoring the moment in place.
Inside, the household gathered quickly. Edward spoke with quiet authority, his voice carrying clearly through the hall as he announced their engagement. He did not embellish. He did not soften it. He simply stated the truth.
Charlotte would be Duchess of Averleigh.
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Smiles. Gasps. Hands pressed to mouths. Clara Bennet crossed the room in two strides and embraced Charlotte fiercely, laughing and crying at once.
The staff followed suit in quieter ways—bows held a fraction longer, and glances exchanged with unmistakable approval. Julian beamed as though the victory were his alone.
And yet, beneath the celebration, Charlotte felt it.
Something unresolved. Something waiting.
Edward felt it too.
He did not linger in the hall. He took Charlotte’s hand and led her to his study, closing the door behind them with deliberate finality. The warmth of the moment cooled into something sharper, more purposeful.
“This is not finished,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “No.”
He sent for Christopher at once.
When Christopher arrived, he did not waste time with pleasantries. He laid the documents out across the desk—ledgers, affidavits, and correspondence gathered from three separate sources.
“I went back to Hawthorne Hollow,” Christopher said. “The innkeeper remembered William’s men. One of them is now in custody for smuggling and was eager to reduce his sentence. He confirmed the payment.”
He tapped a ledger.
“The bank clerk in Market Deerfield verified William’s alias. And this”—he slid forward a folded affidavit—“came from a formerassociate who handled the transport arrangements. He provided dates. Names. Locations.”
The satisfaction in Christopher’s eyes was edged with something grim.
“It was Thomas who ended the arrangement,” Christopher said. “Once he realized the extent of William’s operations—smuggling, laundering, intimidation—he severed the connection entirely. William lost a significant investment as a result. Enough to ruin him.”
