“Heavens, no.” Sutcliffe wrinkled her nose. “I shall never, ever, return to Leeds. No, I will go to my cousin Charles in London. I’mcertain they will welcome me. He and his wife have four children and no doubt could use my help.”
Charlotte tilted her head to the side. “Selfishly, I wish you would stay. I will miss you tremendously. But I understand.”
Sutcliffe tucked a lock of golden hair sheepishly behind her ear. “Have you heard if they have apprehended Mr.Timmons yet and what will happen to them all?”
“Yes.” Charlotte hated to be the person to share this news with Sutcliffe. “Mr.Timmons is in the village gaol. Mr.Ames told me there is a transport arriving in the next day or so to return him to Leeds. Rebecca was taken to a gaol in the village over and will also be sent away. Mr.Broadstreet was apprehended in Leeds. Apparently it was he who notified Mr.Walstead that they had kidnapped Henry and prompted his visit. They will go to trial for their parts in all of this.”
Sutcliffe nodded slowly as she took in the news. “As they should.”
Charlotte reached out and gripped Sutcliffe’s hand in a show of solidarity. “I know you are hurting now. You do not need to say it for me to know it’s true. I know you will come from this stronger. Wiser.”
“I hope you’re right. And I wish you happiness as well. I confess, I was not even aware that you and Mr.Welbourne were acquainted to such an extent. I suppose I was so locked in my own happenings that I failed to notice.”
A memory fluttered in her mind of her conversation with Anthony—of their promises to each other. “I’ve known Mr. Welbourne for years. And, in truth, I’ve loved him for years,but I thought I would never see him again. I am only sorry it took such dramatic events to reunite us.”
“Dramatic, indeed.” Sutcliffe chuckled softly before sobering. “I, for one, hope never to keep another secret again.”
“As do I. But life is beginning anew for both of us. And I hope we both seize the opportunities that have been given us.”
***
Anthony ran his fingers through his dark hair, loosening the tangles and smoothing it into place. Then he ran his hand down his face. His stubble had grown into a beard that would undoubtedly be considered unfashionable by most.
He’d been abed two days, per the surgeon’s instructions. But he could stand to be in his attic chamber no more.
His shoulder throbbed, but he’d managed to wash his face and don his extra shirt. He’d shave another time when he had better use of his arm and hand, and he did not bother with a waistcoat. He turned to reach for his boots, and his eyes fell on his coat and the brilliant-blue armband.
Anger surged through him at the very sight of it.
Had he been oblivious? Tricked? The time he’d spent recovering had afforded him ample time to contemplate the situation. Surely there had been signs that he either missed completely or hadn’t wanted to see. Now it all seemed so obvious. He had spent many years believing that he was destined for a life of solitude—of chasing criminals in dark alleys and guarding eerie warehouses. In truth, he’d been hesitant to leave that life, where he answered tono one and was responsible only for himself. But he’d been using his role as an excuse not to face his guilt for leaving his uncle alone with the mill. But oddly enough, it was that very life that led him back to the one person who could make his life whole.
And he was ready—ready to be a husband to Charlotte. A father to Henry. To allow himself to be happy and content. And he would restore the mill and do right by the past he’d so ardently tried to escape.
Upon leaving his chamber Anthony found Ames in the stables. Charlotte had engaged Ames to keep an eye on the grounds until Anthony was well enough to do so. For a threat did still exist—the King’s Prize was in a strongbox within Hollythorne House, and as long as it was there, an element of danger would reside with them.
“Good to see you up and about,” called Ames in a raspy voice as he led a horse away from the stables.
Anthony squinted in the afternoon sunshine. “All is well, I trust?”
Ames scoffed and tipped his hat lower. “Yes.”
“Any updates?”
Ames paused to adjust the glove on his hand. “The magistrate was by early this morning. He’s heard from Leeds, and the transport will be coming to collect both Timmons and Rebecca tomorrow.”
His stomach lurched at the thought. It would take him some time to come to peace with this news of Timmons. But Timmons was a grown man who had made his own choices. He would have to face the consequences. “Did you have any inkling at all that Walstead was involved in this?”
Ames shook his head. “At first, no. But something was not right about that Broadstreet fellow, and Walstead was unusually involved in the assignment. Then, when I was riding back through the village on the way to Leeds with the letter, I encountered Walstead outside of the traveling inn, and in that moment I knew he was involved. So I abandoned the plan and went straight for the magistrate and drummed up all the help I could. Looking back, I suppose I should have been suspicious. But Walstead always was an intense man. One could hardly tell what was normal for him and what was not.”
“Do you know how exactly Broadstreet fit into the scheme?”
Ames nodded. “Apparently both Timmons and Broadstreet were involved with the King’s Prize from the very beginning. Prior hired the both of them to make sure that the emeralds never made it back to Leeds so Prior wouldn’t have to pay his workmen. Something about work at a place called Swendel Bay.”
Anthony stiffened at the familiar name. “Swendel Bay?”
“Aye.”
Anthony thought back to their conversation after the dirty workmen had confronted him with a message for Walstead outside the pub. Timmons had clearly stated he was with the Raunten Bay assignment. It must have been the first of many deceptions.
