Page 22 of My Viscount’s Madness

Chapter 22

Resolution

“ T his bank draft bears three different signatures.” Marguerite held the paper closer, examining the flourishes of ink. “Yet according to Sir Richard, he signed only once.”

Tristan moved behind her chair in his study, his coat brushing her shoulder as he leaned to examine the document. “The other two appear remarkably similar to Lord Edgecombe’s hand, though disguised.”

“Like the letters to Lady Morton’s nephew?” She extracted another paper from the pile before them. “The same peculiar slant to the ‘g’s, see here?”

His fingers brushed hers as he took the letter, and Marguerite felt the contact down to her bones. Since their confessions two nights ago, every touch between them sent her stomach fluttering.

“The magistrate will require more than penmanship to act against a peer,” he said, though his hand lingered near hers. “Even with Sir Richard’s testimony.”

“Then perhaps this might prove persuasive.” She selected a particular ledger from the stack beside her elbow. “Young Morton’s bank records show payments to three separate merchant companies, all registered to the same vacant office in Cheapside.”

Tristan’s expression sharpened with interest. “The same office that appears in your father’s records?”

“Indeed.” She opened the ledger to a marked page. “Each transaction followed the same pattern—a substantial loss at Edgecombe’s gaming tables, followed by an ‘investment opportunity’ that precisely matched the debt.”

“Which then filtered back to Edgecombe through his false companies.” Tristan’s fingers drummed against her chair back. “Though proving such requires access to his private accounts.”

“Which the magistrate can demand, once presented with sufficient cause for suspicion.” She twisted in her chair to meet his gaze. “Sir Richard’s testimony about his daughter’s compromised reputation, combined with these financial irregularities…”

“May prove enough to launch an investigation.” He moved to pour them both tea from the pot that had grown cold during their preparations. “Though Edgecombe will fight it.”

“Let him.” Marguerite accepted the cup he offered, their fingers meeting around the china. “We have truth on our side.”

“Truth?” His mouth curved slightly. “From the architects of a false engagement?”

Her neck felt hot suddenly, but she lifted her chin. “Our deception harmed no one. His schemes have ruined lives.”

Tristan set his cup aside without drinking, his eyes suddenly serious. “They very nearly ruined yours.”

“Yet instead led me to you.” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

His eyes met hers, but Mr. Thorne appeared in the doorway before either could speak.

“Mr. Harrison has arrived, My Lord.”

Marguerite rose, smoothing her forest green morning dress with hands that only trembled slightly. They had agreed the magistrate would be more receptive to evidence presented in Tristan’s study rather than his formal office, but now the reality of accusing a peer of fraud made her stomach twist.

“Show him in,” Tristan instructed. His hand settled at the small of her back, steadying her. “Remember—we need only convince him to investigate. The evidence will speak for itself once he begins looking.”

She covered his fingers with her own, which pressed against her spine. “Shall we?”

“Yes.”

The magistrate who entered bore little resemblance to the stern authority figure Marguerite had imagined. Mr. Harrison proved a round-faced man of middle years, his brown coat slightly shabby at the elbows, his expression more curious than intimidating.

“Lord Guildford.” He executed a proper bow before turning to Marguerite. “My Lady. I must confess that I am intrigued by your message. It’s not often one receives such an urgent summons regarding a peer of the realm.”

“Please, be seated.” Tristan gestured to the chair they’d positioned near the desk. “What we’re about to share requires discretion and heedful attention.”

The magistrate settled himself, his shrewd eyes taking in the papers spread across every surface. “I assume these documents support whatever accusations you intend to make?”

“They do.” Marguerite selected Sir Richard’s letter, passing it across the desk. “Perhaps we might begin with testimony from a gentleman of unimpeachable reputation?”

Mr. Harrison’s eyebrows rose as he scanned the contents. “Sir Richard Blackwood accuses Lord Edgecombe of impropriety with his daughter? Most irregular.”

“The impropriety forms only part of the pattern.” Tristan’s voice was slightly raised by the authority of his military years. “One we’ve found repeated across multiple families of good standing.”

“A pattern involving gambling debts and fraudulent investments.” Marguerite handed over the ledger she’d annotated. “Each victim follows the same sequence of events.”

The magistrate adjusted his spectacles, examining the columns of figures. “Explain.”

“Lord Edgecombe encourages substantial wagers at his private gaming tables,” she began, her voice confident even as she controlled her trembling hands. “Once his victims are sufficiently indebted, he offers salvation through investment in merchant companies he secretly controls.”

“The same companies that appear in multiple banking records,” Tristan added, “yet maintain no actual business premises.”

Mr. Harrison’s expression grew more serious as he compared documents. “These signatures…”

“Show clear evidence of forgery.” Marguerite extracted another letter from their pile. “This draft bears three versions of Sir Richard’s hand, only one of which he admits to making.”

“Most concerning.” The magistrate reached for his notebook, penning several lines in quick succession. “Though proving such allegations against a peer requires substantial evidence.”

“Which is why we’ve prepared this.” Tristan placed a sealed packet on the desk. “Bank records showing the flow of funds between Edgecombe’s false companies. Testimony from multiple victims, including Lady Morton’s nephew. Property documents proving the Cheapside office exists only on paper.”

Marguerite watched the magistrate’s face as he examined each piece of evidence. His initial skepticism had changed to actual concern as the scope of Edgecombe’s schemes became clear.

“You understand,” he said at last, “that investigating a peer needs utmost discretion? The slightest misstep could prove ruinous to all involved.”

“We understand perfectly.” Tristan’s hand found Marguerite’s beneath the desk, their fingers twining together, providing comfort. “And you may know that we’ve prepared our case so carefully.”

The magistrate’s gaze flickered between them, noting their joined hands with shocking tenderness. “I’m curious—what prompted this investigation? Surely not mere civic duty?”

Marguerite lifted her chin. “Lord Edgecombe attempted to use my father’s debts to force an unwanted marriage. When that failed, he turned to blackmail and threats to Lord Guildford and I.”

“Against you both?” Mr. Harrison’s eyebrows rose further. “Perhaps you might elaborate?”

She exchanged glances with Tristan, gaining courage from the support in his eyes and the slight nod of his head. Together, they explained exactly how their paths had crossed with Lord Edgecombe’s schemes—and why justice demanded action.

“So your engagement began as a means to thwart his intentions?” Mr. Harrison made another note in his book. “Most irregular.”

“The circumstances required swift action,” Tristan said, his grip tightening on Marguerite’s hand beneath the desk. “Perhaps we might focus on Lord Edgecombe’s crimes rather than our personal affairs?”

The magistrate’s mouth twitched beneath his mustache. “Your personal affairs provide context for his actions, My Lord. His subsequent attempts at blackmail suggest a pattern of retaliation against those who resist his schemes.”

“A pattern well-documented in these letters.” Marguerite extracted several papers from the pile with her free hand. “Each victim who refused his initial demands faced similar threats—exposure of family secrets, financial ruin, social ostracism.”

“Until they capitulated?” Mr. Harrison studied the correspondence with growing distaste.

“Or found means to resist.” She met Tristan’s gaze briefly. “Though few possessed the resources to challenge him directly.”

The magistrate set aside his notebook, folding his hands across his substantial midsection. “You realize that investigating these allegations will cause considerable scandal? The Ton rarely appreciates having its dirty linen aired in public.”

“Better temporary scandal than allowing him to continue preying on vulnerable families.” Tristan’s voice was sure and unhesitant. “How many more young ladies must face compromise? How many more gentlemen are driven to desperate measures by manufactured debts?”

“You speak from personal knowledge of such matters? The debts, I mean?” Mr. Harrison’s shrewd eyes fixed on Tristan’s face.

“I speak as someone who has witnessed his methods firsthand,” Tristan said sharply. “Who has seen how he uses a man’s darkest moments against him, twisting private pain into public spectacle.”

Marguerite pressed her fingers against his, encouraging him to keep going. The magistrate’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

“Your military service strengthens any testimony you offer,” he said, “should the investigation proceed to formal charges.”

“Then you’ll pursue the matter?” Marguerite leaned forward, hope and anxiety making it impossible to sit still.

Mr. Harrison gathered the papers into a neat stack. “The evidence certainly warrants closer examination. Sir Richard’s testimony alone would prompt inquiry, but combined with these financial irregularities…” He patted the sealed packet. “I believe I have sufficient cause to begin a discreet investigation.”

Marguerite wanted to squeal in delight, though she maintained her composure. “How long might such an investigation require?”

“Difficult to say.” The magistrate rose, tucking the documents into his battered leather satchel. “These matters require delicate handling, particularly when they involve the nobility. Though perhaps Lord Edgecombe’s recent behavior might expedite certain processes.”

“His behavior?” Tristan’s questioned, unable to hide his interest.

“Let us say that your evidence arrives at an opportune moment.” Mr. Harrison adjusted his spectacles. “His lordship’s activities have drawn attention from several quarters. The Bank of England, in particular, has expressed concern about certain financial dealings.”

Marguerite exchanged glances with Tristan. “Then you believe action will be taken?”

“I believe justice often moves in mysterious ways, My Lady.” The magistrate’s smile was surprisingly warm for someone of his occupation. “Though you may wish to exercise additional caution until matters progress further. Lord Edgecombe strikes me as a man who fights most viciously when cornered.”

“We understand the risk,” Tristan said, rising to escort their visitor to the door. “Though we trust your discretion, particularly regarding our…arrangement.”

“As I trust in yours.” Mr. Harrison paused in the doorway. “I would suggest maintaining your current arrangements—both personal and professional. Any significant changes might prompt unwanted speculation.”

Her gaze averted at his knowing comment. “We had no intention of altering our engagement, sir.”

“No?” His eyes twinkled beneath bushy brows. “How fortunate that convenience has evolved into something more substantial. Good day to you both.”

They waited until Mr. Thorne had escorted the magistrate from the house before speaking. Marguerite’s fingers remained twined with Tristan’s, neither quite willing to break contact.

“He’ll investigate,” she said softly. “Though I confess myself surprised by his manner. I had expected someone more…”

“Intimidating?” Tristan’s hand pressed comfortingly against her palm. “Sometimes the most effective weapons come in unexpected packages.”

“Like a reclusive Viscount and a lady of questionable reputation?” She smiled at him, remembering how far they’d come from their first meeting in the village market.

He moved to face her, now both her hands in his. “There is nothing questionable about your reputation. You’ve shown more courage in facing Edgecombe than half the Ton combined.”

“We’ve shown courage,” she corrected gently. “Both of us.”

He smiled so contagiously that it made her smile, too. Tristan’s thumb brushed her jaw so fondly that Marguerite’s chest ached, and she blinked back tears.

“Both of us,” he agreed. “Though I now wish to focus on more pleasant matters now that duty is satisfied.”

“What matters did you have in mind?”

He said nothing, bent down, and pressed his mouth to hers. She grasped his arm, fearing her knees would give out if she didn’t, and his arm encircled her waist. Marguerite found herself grateful for the magistrate’s instruction to maintain their engagement.

Their arrangement, after all, had become far too dear to abandon.