“Indeed.” Whitman withdrew a single sheet of notes. “The investigator has traced the chain of letters you received, but it led to a common place that housed many of the homeless and poor. Oh, and I discovered thatThe Daily Scribedoes not accept letters. Articles must be delivered in person to their offices in Fleet Street. That means Lady Deena’s blackmailer, or someone acting for him, is here. In London.”
Austin’s blood turned cold. “He’s close?”
“Close enough to deliver copy by hand, yes.” Whitman’s voice was grim. “Which also means Lady Deena is no longer safe in isolation at Greystone. He was bold enough to print, he may decide to escalate to confrontation or abduction or…worse.”
Austin’s hand curled into a fist on the desk. It was confirmed that Deena was not safe. He had to inform Dominic about this.
“She’ll be under my roof tomorrow. I’ll send my own men to Greystone tonight discreetly. They’ll stay out of sight until the wedding, then I will escort her here after the ceremony.”
Whitman nodded. “Wise. I’ve also instructed the agency to watch theScribe’soffices. If the blackmailer, or his partner, returns, we’ll have him.”
Austin exhaled slowly, opened his drawer, and pulled out the letter Deena gave to him. He handed it to Whitman. “Have your investigator look into this, too.”
Whitman opened it. “From Lady Deena’s blackmailer?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll hand it to him straight away.”
Austin’s shoulders eased a fraction. “Thank you. And any news about Miss Penelope Grande?”
“Yes, Your Grace, I believe we have found her.” Mr. Whitman looked pleased with himself.
“Make sure of it that she is the right person and deliver this to her.” Austin pulled out another letter and handed it to his solicitor.
Mr. Whitman took it gently from his hand and pocketed it.
Finding Miss Grande was easy enough, but will she respond?
“I’ll see to it right away,” Whitman nodded firmly and did not ask further about Penelope. That was the reason why Austin trusted him; he did not pry too much into his life.
The elderly man closed the portfolio before him. “One last thing, Your Grace. The settlements are ready for your signature. Lady Deena’s jointure is generous but not extravagant, enough to secure her comfort should the worst happen. The trust for any future children is ironclad.”
Austin nodded once. “Good.”
Whitman rose. “I’ll leave the documents with you. Sign when you’re ready. I’ll be at the chapel tomorrow to witness.”
Austin stood as well. “Whitman.”
The solicitor paused at the door.
“Thank you,” Austin said simply.”
Whitman met his gaze without flinching. “You are most welcome, Your Grace. She will be safe and so will you.”
Deena stepped down from the carriage, one hand steadying herself on the doorframe while the other rested lightly in Dominic’s waiting palm. The gravel crunched under her slippers. The family chapel stood before her, small, ancient, and ivy-clad; its stone walls were stained beautifully by centuries.
Dominic’s fingers tightened briefly around hers. “You ready, Dee?”
She managed a small nod. “As I’ll ever be.”
He offered his arm, and she took it. Together they walked up the short path, through the open arched doorway, and into the hush of the chapel.
Inside, the air smelled of old stone and faint incense. A single soft piano melody drifted from the gallery above. There was no choir, no organ swell, and no guests beyond the immediate family. Just the people who mattered.
“You look beautiful, darling!” her grandmother whispered loudly from where she stood. Selina was beside her. Mary was dressed prettily in a pink dress with flowers sewn along the hem, and Percy, whose hair had been combed meticulously for the occasion, stared wide-eyed at Deena.
Her eyes slowly traveled to the front of the pew, where she saw Austin.
