‘But is he the Falcon?’ she asked slowly. ‘The third Grand Fellow?’
Lord Stanley exhaled. ‘It is possible.’
‘But he seems so soft,’ Charlotte protested. ‘Timid. Blustering.’
‘Appearances can be deceiving. It could all be an act,’
Charlotte grimaced faintly. The thought disturbed her more than she cared to admit. She had trusted her instincts regarding Sir Oswald completely.
Lord Stanley rose slowly and crossed towards the fireplace. For a moment he stood there in silence, one arm resting against the mantelpiece.
‘And what of Hamilton’s shipping investments?’ she asked at last. ‘Did you discover under what name the company operates?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ He paused. ‘Regardless, we finally possess enough information to act. After tomorrow evening’s ball, I shall make the arrests and put an end to this business.’
He released a slow breath.
‘Thank you, Miss Walker. I do not know how I would have solved this without your help.’
Charlotte stared at him, unexpectedly moved.
He looked away briefly before continuing in a quieter voice.
‘I shall be relieved when all this is over. Then you and I...’
The words faltered unfinished.
Charlotte’s heart stumbled strangely. Of course, he was speaking of how they might quietly end their engagement once this was over. A painful lump formed in her throat.
‘We can decide what is to become of us after the ball,’ he said at last, though an unusual hesitation entered his voice. ‘Whatever the outcome...’
Again, he did not finish.
For one suspended moment, he simply looked at her—as though he wished to say something more and thought better of it. Then, with visible effort, he stepped back.
‘I should go.’
He left rather abruptly, leaving Charlotte staring after him in confusion.
‘What on earth was the matter with him?’ she muttered aloud to the now empty room.
She blew out a weary breath and rubbed the back of her neck.
A strange heaviness settled inside her chest. Their false engagement would soon end—and for reasons she preferred not to examine too closely, the thought pained her.
Charlotte pressed a hand lightly against her chest, attempting to soothe the unfamiliar ache.
It was for the best. He would marry Miss Pearson, whilst she would return to her quiet life as a spinster in some remote cottage. Yet for the first time, that future no longer appealed to her.
At the very least, once the ball concluded, the guests would finally depart and Alderley would no longer feel like a nest of vipers. Some semblance of peace might return to the estate.
And yet unease continued to gnaw at her.
Something still did not fit.
Too many questions remained unanswered. How were the girls taken without anyone noticing? Who were the lesser members serving beneath the Grand Fellows—the men scouting victims and arranging disappearances? There had to be dozens involved, judging by the sheer scale of Payne’s operations. Then there was the black book.
Perhaps the answers would come once arrests were made.
