A clearing of a throat brought Matt back to the present moment.
“Your Grace, I’m Lord Dumfries, the magistrate.”
“Yes, I remember meeting you. Thank you for coming.”
Dumfries was a slender fellow with blond graying hair. “I almost didn’t. But your letter was such that I knew I must rouse myself from my bed to see if it was true.”
“Are you disappointed?”
The magistrate looked around at the damage in the room. “I am not. However, will you tell us the story?”
“And is there a place we can lock this man up?” Squire Tarlton, who served as sheriff, asked. “I’ll have men come and pick him up in the morning.”
“Capital idea,” Matt agreed. He directed the stable lads to see that George was locked up in the grain room.
George wasn’t vocal. He looked around as if in a daze. He was probably stunned at how far he’d fallen, and how this would be his legacy to his children. Matt pitied the boys.
“Shall we go into the dining room?” Matt offered. “We can all sit around the table and hear the story out over a glass of whisky.” Even Minerva thought that was a splendid idea.
Matt told the story. Willa sat beside him, silent—for once. Minerva shared her harrowing adventure of being kidnapped. The squire had asked for paper and ink and he recorded their versions of events.
The whisky helped the dowager recover. When Dumfries asked if Matt wished to take out charges against George, she answered, “Absolutely not.”
“Grandmother, we will,” Matt answered.
“We can’t,” she countered. “What will people think? We don’t want our affairs to be bandied about.”
“He killed people,” Willa said. “I saw their bodies. What he did was terrible.”
“Bodies?” Minerva echoed. “A dockside doxy and some man no one knows? They don’t count for anything.”
“The law frowns on murder, Your Grace,” Dumfries said tactfully.
“I don’t care what the law frowns on. The title must not be attached to any such sordid business.”
“He tried to murder us—” Willa answered, starting to her feet in her indignation.
Matt reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. He looked to Dumfries. “Of course charges should be filed. And prepare yourself. My cousin is an excellent lawyer.”
“Your Grace,” Minerva started. “I must object—”
“And you are free to do so, Grandmother. However, it is my decision that carries weight. I’m tired of secrets. I’m done with them. George will be judged for his actions.”
“He will sully our name—”
“He already has,” Matt said. “We should have talked to the authorities years ago.”
She shut her mouth then. He knew she didn’t agree with him. That was fine. He was Camberly.
It was almost dawn by the time everything was settled. The squire said, “I suppose it will be this afternoon when I send lads over.”
“Whenever will be fine,” Matt assured him. “My cousin is not going anywhere.”
At last everyone was gone. Minerva had sought her bed over an hour earlier, obviously disheartened that she would not have her way.
Now it was just Matt and Willa. He held out his arms, and she walked directly into them.
Matt kissed the top of her head. She cozied closer. This charming, beautiful woman had been willing to risk her life for him. What’s more, she loved him...
