“Then ask him for the records.”

“It is after midnight.”

“The staircase has existed for three hundred years. I believe it can survive until morning while we discuss why the money intended to change it has disappeared.”

Edmund summoned his secretary. Within an hour, several ledgers and financial reports were placed before them. The documents appeared orderly.

Lord Charles had recorded rising stone prices, labor shortages, engineering consultations, and repeated deposits paid to specialist builders. Edmund pointed to the entries.

“You see? The work was delayed, not abandoned.”

Amelia turned the ledger toward herself. “Who is Mr. Samuel Doring?”

“A mechanical engineer, according to Charles. He received three thousand pounds to design the lifting platform.”

“Yes. Where is the design?”

Edmund searched through the papers. There was no drawing, contract, or correspondence.

Amelia checked another entry. A company called Northern Masonry Works had received payment for widening the eastern entrance, yet no survey had ever been conducted. The listed office address belonged to an abandoned warehouse.

A quiet knock sounded at the study door. Lady Cecily stood outside, pale and still wearing her ballroom gown.

“I believe I have something that belongs here.”

She entered and placed a folded invoice before Amelia. “I saw it in the Dowager Duchess’s writing desk two weeks ago. Her Grace asked me to copy the supplier’s name onto several invitations because she wished the handwriting to appear different.”

Edmund unfolded the paper. It claimed that a costly mechanical lift had been completed and installed at Fairmont Hall six months earlier. They all knew no such lift existed.

At the bottom appeared Beatrice’s approval and Charles’s signature. Further examination revealed transfers from the renovation account into the winter ball budget. Thousands had paid for imported flowers, musicians, wine, and repairs to the upper ballroom. Several other withdrawals had gone into an account controlled personally by Charles.

Edmund’s face changed as each entry appeared. “This cannot be right.”

Amelia opened the annual summary. His own signature rested beneath the false figures. “You approved it.”

“Charles told me the totals had been verified.”

“And you believed him.”

“He is my brother.”

“And I am your wife.”

The words landed more heavily than an accusation.

By dawn, they had uncovered enough to understand the shape of the deception. Money had been allocated. Contractors had been invented. Reports had been falsified.

The family had not lacked the resources to make Fairmont Hall accessible. They had simply spent those resources elsewhere.

Amelia placed the forged invoice before her husband. “You told me the house could not change.” Then she turned the ledger toward him, revealing the money paid for chandeliers, flowers, and one glorious evening in a room she could not enter. “The truth is that your family decided I was not worth changing it for.”

By noon, Lord Charles knew the accounts had been opened. Before Edmund could summon him, Charles sent letters to every member of the Fairmont Estate Council, warning that the Duchess had become emotionally unstable and intended to seize control of the family finances.

He described the events of the previous evening as a public attack upon Fairmont tradition. He claimed Amelia had exploited Princess Helena’s sympathy, embarrassed the Duke before his guests, and encouraged servants to abandon their duties.

By afternoon, the servants were whispering that Amelia would soon be removed from all official responsibilities. Dowager Duchess Beatrice did nothing to silence the rumors.

Instead, she entered Edmund’s study without knocking and found him surrounded by ledgers, invoices, and letters from companies that did not exist.

“You have allowed your wife to turn a domestic disagreement into a scandal,” she said.

Edmund did not rise. “Charles transferred money from the renovation account into his personal holdings.”

“Charles preserved this family when expenses became difficult.”

“He stole.”

Beatrice’s expression remained composed. “Do not use such an ugly word for necessary decisions.”

“The money was intended for Amelia’s access to this house.”

“The money belonged to Fairmont. It was approved for a specific purpose, and we used it to maintain Fairmont’s standing. Last night’s ball reminded society that this family remains influential despite your wife’s unfortunate condition.”

Edmund looked at his mother as though seeing her clearly for the first time. “You left my wife beneath a staircase and called it influence.”

“I prevented the entire household from being redesigned around one person.”

“One person.”

“Do not pretend you have never resented it,” Beatrice replied. “The chair. The delays. The constant arrangements. You had a wife who danced beside you, and now every doorway has become a negotiation.”

Edmund stood so abruptly that his chair struck the floor behind him. “Leave.”

For the first time, Beatrice appeared startled.

“The council meets tomorrow morning,” she warned. “Charles will ask them to appoint Cecily as acting mistress of the household. If you oppose him publicly, every account will be scrutinized and every newspaper will find out what happened.”

“Then they will learn.”

His mother’s eyes hardened. “You would ruin your brother and disgrace your name for a woman who has already made you appear weak.”

Edmund opened the study door. “I looked weak because I was weak.”

Beatrice left without another word.