Dominic glanced at Stanton and Montfort. “We’ve enough secrets between us. I’ll not ask you to keep another. You can wait downstairs.”
Stanton glanced at Montfort and they both shrugged.
“We’ll stay,” Montfort said. “Justice has always weighed more than the truth.”
Dominic turned to Moseley’s man. “Give me a moment to free Miss Harland. Any decision will be made jointly.”
He crossed to Daphne, drew the blade from his coat and sliced through the rope at her wrists, then crouched and cut her ankles free. He drew her to her feet, his thumb moving in slow circles over her wrists where the bindings had bitten.
“Later,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, “I’ll attend to every ache. Now, would you like to hear Mr Moseley’s proposition?”
“After tonight, I’ll consider almost anything.”
He faced Moseley’s messenger. “We’re listening.”
The fellow reached into his coat pocket and handedDominic a letter. A quick scan showed the fifteen thousand had been returned to his account at Coutts.
“Mr Moseley can’t accept your payment, sir. It’s not how he does business. The debt falls to Harland’s beneficiary.” He glanced at Augusta when she whimpered. “He feels it only right that Lady Sanders settles the debt in her own way.”
“I can raise the money. Give me a week. A month at most. I have jewels—Samuel’s mother’s pearls—stored at the house in Mayfair.”
“Pearls wouldn’t cover the first instalment, ma’am.”
Daphne snorted. “It’s a lie anyway. She hasn’t a penny. Samuel left the pearls to his mistress in Norfolk.”
“There’s a boat waiting at Fobbing Marshes. Mr Moseley wishes to assure you that you’ll have no cause to see Lady Sanders again.”
Daphne turned to him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. “What shall we do? There’s no evidence to convict her other than our testimonies, and Augusta would paint us both as her enemies. Our mothers’ names would be dragged through every court in London.”
They had all suffered enough. The scandal would taint their children’s prospects, though he wasn’t about to voice that aloud.
“The clerk’s testimony implicates Irving, not your aunt,” he said. “Augusta must answer for what she’s done. Our mothers deserve justice. But I’d rather London not read every sordid detail.”
Moseley’s man spoke up. “Bow Street will receive her signed confession, and that of Mr Irving, confirming they both played a part in Lord Harland’s death. It will state they’ve left England.” He inclined his head. “Mr Moseley hopes that proves satisfying for all concerned.”
Augusta stepped forward. “For heaven’s sake, you can’t just spirit me away. I’ll not sign anything.”
“I think you will, ma’am, given the options.”
Dominic met Stanton’s gaze. A discreet nod passed between them. He turned and reached for Daphne’s hand.
“Take her. Moseley will see she pays for her crimes.”
“You can be sure of it, sir.”
Augusta’s protests echoed through the warehouse as she was led out. He barely heard them. Daphne’s hand was in his. He did not intend to let it go again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The water in the bathtub had gone cold, but neither of them moved. She lay back against his chest, nestled between his thighs, protected, not his prisoner. She understood the distinction perfectly now.
“The only part of me that’s not wrinkled is the hand you’re holding.” She watched as he measured her fingers against his as if the difference were some marvel of nature.
He laced their fingers, locking them together.
She’d defy a heathen army to break them.
They were no longer chasing a villain. Only their future remained, and what lay beyond this hotel room. Perhaps he sensed it too, the need to speak weighed against the risk of saying the wrong thing. Amid the crackle of the fire and the rumble of carriage wheels outside, she could almost hear his questions gathering.
