The Lord Mayor looked as if he’d choked on his swallow. “Ashbrook, have some decorum.”
“I’d have more respect if you weren’t making a mockery of my home.”
The Lord Mayor gulped his brandy. “He’s shown me record after record of you crafting paperwork to have women released from Bedlam. He convinced me that you must be investigated.”
“Convinced or confirmed your dark suspicions? I’ve been in your courts for over a year, at the Old Bailey for six. I’ve toiled for you and the Crown, and yet you believe lies?”
“Ashbrook, I had to investigate before getting the magistrate to charge you. I could’ve just let the runners come alone. They’ve at least not torn your house to pieces.”
Two men entered his study. “Nothing, except an exceptional closet. There’s nothing out of place in this immaculate house. His daughter’s nursery is pink, harmless, adorable.”
Daniel waved them toward the door. “Have you searched the property? Perhaps there’s a well where trolls claim fair maidens.”
“Calm down, Ashbrook. This appears to be a mistake. A tragic mistake.”
“It was a mistake to think my years of service have meant something. Have you thought to search the Duke of Repington’s house? His wife was freed from an unjust imprisonment in Bedlam too. No, you wouldn’t dare go after that peer.”
Daniel glared at the man, one whom he’d worked hard to please. “You’re worse than my late uncle. At least he let his prejudice be known, never hiding it behind false smiles. The Prince Regent was right aboutbastardsin high places.”
Lord Mayor’s hand shook, and he seemed to search his empty glass for more brandy. “Regardless of my personal feelings, the evidence he had made this a valid claim. Why so many released over the years? There’s over twenty.”
Ah . . . the Widow’s Grace business. Daniel stepped closer. “Unlike you or some of my fellow barristers, I’m known as a fair arbiter. Families come to me and tell me of cruelties done to a missing sister or aunt or mother. In my spare time, I’ve looked into their plights. I have found many innocent, sane women locked in Bedlam.”
Mosey tried to come closer, but Max barked, keeping him against the ottoman. “Sane? Why would they be admitted?”
“Sane women have been locked away because some man in their family has decided it was better to use the Crown’s pennies for the widow’s care rather than their own. They want them quiet and out of the way to manipulate their assets.”
The Lord Mayor turned to Mosey. Perhaps he could see the worm for what he was, an opportunistic tool.
“You’re an avenger?” Mosey said.
“If that’s what you call righting wrongs, so be it. This inquiry is done. I’m a peer. If I’ve done wrong, take your accusations to the House of Lords or the Prince Regent himself. I’m sure he’d like to know.”
The Lord Mayor looked ashen. His hand trembled as he set the glass on the mantel. “As far as I’m concerned, this is over. It will never be mentioned. Ashbrook, I owe you an apology. I’d heard rumors of your wild associations as of late. I should’ve judged you by your character. Nothing else. I apologize.”
“As of late? I’ve been Black for a long time. Your suspicions have been with me since the first day you held court.”
“Sorry, Ashbrook. None of this will be mentioned from me. I wish you’d do the same.”
Mr. Mosey sputtered and tried to gain the Lord Mayor’s attention. Then he ran past Max and stood in front of Daniel. “He has to be up to no good. The records? What about his current wife? She’s crazed.”
“Excuse me, Lord Mayor, this man just insulted my wife.” Daniel grabbed Mosey in one hand and punched him with the other. He punched him again until he fell over the study’s threshold. “You’re in my house. You’ve wasted the Crown’s time. Don’t think I’ll bear anyone denigrating the woman I love.”
Mosey held his jaw. “Where’s your wife?”
“You’ve ransacked my house. You know she’s not here. Lady Ashbrook and my daughter are visiting friends.”
Lord Mayor sighed, long like he’d swallowed a fur ball. “The runners just finished. They did search thoroughly, Mosey. No one is shackled or abused. This is a normal, comfortable house. Your daughter’s room sounds sweet, Ashbrook.”
“I’ve run out of patience. Perhaps I can send word to the Duke of Repington. His men need cannon practice.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the Lord Mayor said. “Get off the ground, Mosey, and let’s leave.”
“Yes,” Daniel said, “all of you leave. Never come back unless my dear wife invites you. She won’t.”
Mrs. Gallick stopped twisting her hands in her apron. Her smile beamed with pride. “You heard his Lordship. He’s been a widower for two years, raising the sweetest child, and now that he’s married, evil forces are against him. Shoo.”
The Lord Mayor, the highest judge of the Old Bailey court, hung his head as his sad footfalls flopped out of the front door. “Good night, Lord Ashbrook. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
