He was found in town, in the back room of a countinghouse near the square, attempting to negotiate the sale of several crates bound for the southern docks.
When the constable entered with two officers at his back, irritation flashed across his face before calculation smoothed it away.
Edward did not enter the room at once.
He stood just beyond the doorway, allowing the warrant to be read aloud in full.
Fraud. Conspiracy. Coercion. Financial manipulation under false identity.
William listened with a faint, incredulous smile, though something sharp flickered behind it.
“This is absurd,” he said lightly. “A misunderstanding inflated by sentiment.”
When his gaze shifted and found Edward standing in the doorway, the smile altered—thinned into something colder.
“You would involve the courts,” William said. “How disappointingly dramatic.”
“I would involve the law,” Edward replied evenly.
The constable stepped forward to secure William’s wrists. He did not resist, though tension coiled visibly beneath his composure.
As he was turned toward the door, his eyes searched the square beyond.
Charlotte stood there.
She had insisted on coming.
Her chin was lifted, though her hands were clasped tightly before her. She did not shrink from his gaze.
For the first time since Edward had known him, William’s expression fractured.
“You believe this vindicates you?” he asked quietly as he was guided forward. “You think this spectacle restores your reputation?”
Charlotte stepped closer.
“I believed once that I might marry you,” she said, her voice clear enough to carry. “I believed you honorable. I believed you worthy of my father’s trust.”
A murmur rippled through the watching crowd.
William’s mouth curved faintly. “And you would have been fortunate.”
Her composure did not break.
“I was fortunate,” she corrected. “Fortunate that the truth revealed you before vows bound me to it.”
His eyes hardened.
“You think you were ever in a position to choose?” he asked softly. “You were a provincial girl with a name worth acquiring and very little else. I offered you elevation.”
“You offered yourself,” she replied. “And I mistook ambition for character.”
A faint flush crept into his face.
“I deemed to give you my attention,” he said, the polish cracking at the edges. “Do not pretend you would have fared better elsewhere. You would have clung to my name and thanked me for it.”
Edward moved then—not abruptly, not violently, but enough to stand fully at Charlotte’s side.
“She requires nothing from you,” he said.
