Emma rose on her toes and kissed him. Brief but fierce. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright. Then let's go see what we're up against. The library was chaos. Documents spread across every surface. Three solicitors arguing points of law. Thornhill orchestrating it all with military precision.
He looked up when Charles and Emma entered. Ah. The man of the hour. How did Lady Beatrice take the news? She threatened to destroy me. Naturally. Did she mean it? Probably. Excellent. I do love a challenge. Thornhill gestured to the documents. Gentlemen. His grace. And Miss Ashford, who will be assisting with translations.
The solicitors, all middle-aged men in severe black coats, looked skeptical. One raised an eyebrow. The lady reads Latin and Greek, Thornhill said mildly. Better than any of us, I'd wager. So unless you object to actual competence, I suggest you make room. The men exchanged glances, but said nothing.
Emma moved to the table, her chin high. Charles felt a surge of pride. She belonged here. Not hiding in shadows. But standing in the light. Using her skills. Proving her worth. What have you found? Charles asked. The lead solicitor, Mr. Peton, cleared his throat. Quite a bit, your grace. The fraud is extensive. Your father was deliberately targeted by a group calling themselves the Gentlemen's Club. They used marked cards, loaded dice, and accomplices planted at every game.
How many men were involved? At least 12. All titled. All respectable. Peton's expression darkened. Including Lord Harrington. Charles went still. Beatrice's father? Yes, your grace. He was one of the primary organizers. He and your father played cards regularly. He knew exactly how much your father could lose before the estate became vulnerable.
The implications hit Charles like a physical blow. The engagement was likely planned from the beginning, Thornhill said grimly. They bankrupt your father. You inherit the debts. You become desperate. And conveniently, Lord Harrington has a marriageable daughter and a fortune large enough to solve all your problems. In exchange for my name and position. Precisely. It's elegant. Really. Vicious. But elegant.
Emma's hand found Charles's arm. That's why Beatrice was so certain you'd go through with it. She knew you had no choice. I always had a choice, Charles said quietly. I just didn't know it. Well, you know it now. Thornhill picked up a document. We have witnesses. Servants who saw the marked cards. A dealer who was paid to cheat. Even a few guilty consciences willing to testify in exchange for immunity.
When can we file? Within the week. But Charles, Thornhill's expression grew serious. Once we do this, there's no going back. These men will fight dirty. They'll question your sanity. Your honor. They'll drag Emma's name through every scandal sheet in London. They'll paint you as a delusional fool who threw away a good marriage for a fortune hunter.