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The magistrate took a long breath, then lowered his gaze to the papers before him. The scratch of his pen against the parchment was the only sound in the room.

They'd made their case. The die was cast. Now, they would wait to see if their truth was enough.

Minutes ticked by. Murmurs and whispers rustled behind them. Hollan and his legal team spoke in low tones while Abigail andGraham sat in utter silence. Mr. Nedley cast concerned glances their way and Mr. Bellamy sat back, relaxed in his chair.

Finally, the magistrate tapped his fingers against the bench, surveying the courtroom. "I believe I've heard sufficient evidence to render judgment. Will the Duke and Duchess of Eyron please rise?"

Abigail's breath caught. Graham's hand found hers again, his grip so tight it bordered on painful. She welcomed the pressure, anchoring herself in the warmth of his palm against hers as they stood. The magistrate cleared his throat.

"The Court of Chancery exists to uphold the welfare of those who cannot advocate for themselves—most particularly children," he began. "In matters of guardianship, we must look not only to legal rights, but to the best interests of the vulnerable parties in question."

He adjusted his spectacles, peering down at his notes. "I have reviewed the testimonies, affidavits, and evidence presented today with great care. Baron Hollan's familial connection to the children through their late mother is valid, and the evidence he has provided does merit consideration."

Abigail's heart stuttered in her chest. Beside her, Graham tensed. The world narrowed to this moment, this breath, this unbearable waiting.

"After careful consideration of all the facts presented, I must conclude that the interests of the Misses Redchester are bestserved by maintaining their current guardianship. The Duke and Duchess of Eyron have demonstrated both commitment to and compassion for these children during a period of profound loss. Baron Hollan's petition is hereby denied. Custody shall remain with the Duke and Duchess, with no further hearings on this matter to be entertained without substantial new evidence."

Abigail’s knees threatened to buckle with relief. The tension that had been holding her upright dissolved in an instant, replaced by a surge of joy so powerful it nearly took her breath away.

"Graham," she whispered, turning to find his eyes already on her, blazing with an intensity she'd never seen before.

“We did it,” he murmured, framing her face with his hands.

Before she could speak another word, Graham's mouth claimed hers in a kiss that silenced the erupting courtroom around them. His lips were warm and firm against hers, not tentative or questioning, but certain—a declaration more powerful than any words.

For a suspended moment, Abigail forgot where they were—the crowded courtroom, the watching eyes, the propriety that should have governed such a display. Her hands found his lapels, holding tight as if he might vanish if she let go. Graham's heartbeat thundered beneath, strong and alive and hers.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, the courtroom had descended into chaos. Gasps and whispers swirled around them like autumn leaves. Someone in the gallery actually applauded,quickly hushed by their neighbor. Hollan stormed past, his face mottled with fury, but Abigail barely registered him.

"That," Bridget remarked dryly as she approached, eyes twinkling despite her stern tone, "will certainly make tomorrow's papers."

Graham laughed against Abigail's hair. "Good. I'll commission copies for every room at Eyron Manor."

Abigail pulled back just enough to see his face. "They'll call you mad after all."

"Perhaps I am," Graham said, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "Madly fortunate to have found you."

"Good God," Admiral Birkins boomed from behind them, his voice carrying across the courtroom. "Save the rest for after dinner, would you? Some of us haven't eaten since yesterday, and this old sea dog is about to mutiny for want of a decent meal!"

“Clear the court, if you please!” The clerk yelled over the hubbub.“The court calls Thronton versus Majors! Opening arguments in fifteen minutes!”

They spilled out into the bustling lobby. Graham turned to Mr. Nedley and Mr. Bellamy, grasping each man's hand in turn.

"We are forever in your debt," Graham said. "Your expertise and dedication have preserved our family."

"Indeed," Abigail added, smiling through tears and exhaustion. "Words cannot express our thanks for what you've done today."

Mr. Bellamy offered a modest bow. "It was my honor to represent such a worthy cause, Your Grace."

"The paperwork will be finalized by week's end," Mr. Nedley assured them.“I will send you a letter from the seaside—and the bill.”

Graham laughed.“Worth every pound, Mr. Nedley.”

The solicitor hurried away, and they turned back to their family.

“We considered a celebratory luncheon, but thought better of it,” Marjory said, casting a look at their bedraggled state.

“You don’t like people thinking you’re dining with fugitives?” Abigail asked, though she wasn’t up for anything beyond hugging the girls and falling into her bed.