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T he remnants of the past days still lingered in the drawing room, not in the form of spoken words but in the careful way the guests moved and the glances they exchanged.

Though the immediate danger had passed, a quiet tension remained, a collective understanding that the events of the weekend had changed more than just their plans.

The air, once thick with tension, now held a sense of quiet relief.

Though the shadow of the Order still lingered, they had won a battle, and for now, that was enough.

Bridget stood near the fireplace, her fingers tracing the rim of a delicate porcelain teacup.

Across the room, Thomas spoke in low tones with Barrington and Townsend, their expressions measured but not grim.

Their work was not yet done, but for the first time in days, there was no immediate danger and that was a relief.

Marjory sat with Miss Hathaway and Miss Gray, her posture relaxed in a way it had not been since Alastair’s passing.

“I’m still deciding what to do,” she admitted, offering them a small smile. “Alastair Court is mine now, but I cannot decide whether to stay or return to London.”

Lady Carlisle stirred her tea thoughtfully. “Perhaps a bit of both? You deserve time to heal, but that doesn’t mean you must hide away in the countryside forever.”

Marjory’s gaze flicked to Bridget, something unspoken passing between them. “Perhaps.”

Before another word could be said, the butler appeared in the doorway. “My lady,” he announced, “Viscount Huntington and Laird McConnell have arrived.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence.

Bridget stiffened. Her teacup nearly slipped from her grasp, and across the room, Thomas straightened sharply in his chair. He quickly glanced at her. Their fathers had arrived together.

The doors swung open, revealing the two men laughing as if they were old friends. McConnell clapped Huntington on the back, clearly pleased with himself.

Bridget nearly choked.

Thomas, braced for a confrontation, looked as though someone had just knocked the wind from him.

“Ah, Grenville!” McConnell greeted warmly. “Or should I say, Thomas? We’ve much to discuss, lad.”

Thomas blinked. “I—pardon?”

Huntington’s gaze settled on Bridget with surprising familiarity. “And you, Bridget,” he said, his tone almost indulgent. “I hope my son hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

Bridget opened her mouth. Then closed it.

Thomas stared at the two men, his brows drawing together as if he’d misheard. His father and Laird McConnell, laughing, speaking as though they were old friends? The very idea unsettled him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

His father, the man who had built a reputation on measured control and political maneuvering, stood shoulder to shoulder with McConnell, the very embodiment of the Highland resilience Thomas had spent years trying to understand. It didn’t make sense.

A strange tightness settled in his chest. He’d spent years carrying the weight of their silence, of their absence. And now, to find they’d been allies all along. It felt like betrayal laced with relief. How could they have kept this from him? And why did part of him want to forgive them anyway?

His jaw tightened. “You’ve been working together?” His voice was quieter than he intended, rough with disbelief.

Neither man hesitated.

McConnell clapped Huntington on the back once more, unfazed. “Aye, lad. And for longer than you’d think.”

Thomas shook his head slowly. “No. That’s not possible.” His father had been absent, indifferent. And McConnell? His contempt for the English had been clear. For years, Thomas had thought, had known, exactly where these men stood.

And yet, here they were.

Bridget’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and incredulous. “But you… you hated him,” she accused, gesturing toward Huntington. “You blamed him for everything—”

McConnell sighed, his expression softening.

“I never hated him, Bridget. I hated what happened. I hated the suffering. But your mother—” His throat worked for a moment before he continued.

“She made me promise not to let hatred blind me to the good in men. Huntington had power. I had knowledge. Separately, we could do nothing. Together, we could help.”

Thomas exhaled slowly, his thoughts still catching up to the truth unfolding before him. “And you never thought to tell us?” The words came out sharper than intended, but his father met his gaze without flinching.

“Because it was too dangerous.”

McConnell nodded. “The Order had already taken too much from our people. We couldn’t risk them turning their attention to you and Bridget. Keeping you in the dark kept you safe.”

Bridget stiffened. “So you just decided for us?”

McConnell’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “Aye, lass. And I’d do it again if it meant keeping you alive.”

Huntington sighed. “It wasn’t an easy decision. But we knew the burden of what we were doing. We chose to carry it alone.”

Thomas exhaled again, but this time it came with a bitter smile. “All those years I thought you were distant out of disapproval. Turns out, you were just hiding secrets.”

Huntington stepped forward, his gaze steady. “I may not have shown it, Thomas, but I was always proud of the man you became. That strength came from within you.”

Later, when the others had left the room, Thomas remained behind.

Bridget lingered near the door, watching him. “You’re taking this better than I would.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not. I just… I’ve spent so long resenting him. I don’t know what to do with this version of the truth.”

Bridget stepped closer, not touching him, just close enough to share the silence. “Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it. Not yet.”

“Maybe.” He glanced at her. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

He gave a ghost of a smile. “If my father and McConnell conspired to bring us together… I can’t find it in me to be angry about that.”

Thomas glanced at Bridget, his expression softening.

“You had help. Just not from the ones you expected.”

Thomas exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Did Alastair know the truth?”

“No, lad,” McConnell said. “He told us about his mission to find the books that his library once had. He told us about the Order, and we advised him—”

“To burn the blasted thing,” Huntington said. “It was only a few months ago that he told us he found the Ellington family on the list. If I had known what he planned to do, I would have burned the book myself.”

A heavy silence settled over them.

Finally, Barrington cleared his throat. “The Order may be weakened, but they are far from finished.” He looked to Townsend, who nodded.

“I’ll take what we have to Whitehall,” Townsend confirmed. “The arrests will hold, but the network runs deeper than we can see.”

Marjory exhaled, rubbing her temples. “I just want the books out of my house. I don’t care if the room goes back to being empty.” She turned to the professor. “I’m certain you can find some that you would want. Professor, feel free to take what you like.”

Professor Tresham offered her a thoughtful look. “Lady Alastair, I’d be honored to take a few volumes.”

Marjory offered a small, genuine smile. “Then let’s see to that before you leave.”

The room lightened just a fraction. Miss Gray turned to Marjory. “You won’t be alone.”

Marjory’s smile was grateful. “Thank you. I received a message from our solicitor, Mr. Hughes, regarding the settlement of the estate. It will be lovely to have you both here.”

Simmons appeared at the doorway. “Breakfast is served, my lady.”

A sigh of relief rippled through the guests. The ordeal was over. As they rose to leave, Marjory linked arms with Tresham and led the way, calling over her shoulder, “The minister’s cat is an admirable cat.”

Tresham chuckled. “The minister’s cat is a benevolent cat.”

“The minister’s cat is a clever cat,” Miss Hathaway added.

Bridget caught Thomas’s eye as the game continued into the dining room. She lingered near the window for a moment before he stepped beside her, his voice low. “You still look as if you’re thinking too hard.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Not thinking, realizing that some truths sneak up on you. And when they finally hit, they change everything.”

He lifted a brow, watching her closely. “And what revelation has you looking so serious?”

Bridget turned to him fully, her fingers tightening around his. “That I’ve spent so much time fighting what was inevitable.”

Thomas stilled, his gaze locked on hers. “And what do you see now?”

She exhaled, searching his face, seeing not just the man who had challenged her, stood beside her, and stolen her breath more times than she could count, but the man she could no longer picture a life without.

“That I don’t want to imagine a future without you.”

His fingers laced through hers, a slow smile touching his lips. “Then don’t.”

Bridget swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. There was no hesitation left, no doubt, only the truth of what she wanted. What she had always wanted.

“Thomas…” She drew a breath, steady and sure. “Will you marry me?”

His breath hitched, his grip tightening before a quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I was going to ask you.”

She arched a brow, smirking. “Too slow, Captain.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled her into his arms. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to say yes.”

She smiled against his shoulder, holding on to him, knowing that for all the twists and turns their journey had taken, this was exactly where they were meant to be.

“You’ll know it’s love when the rest of the world fades, and there’s only the two of you.”

Catriona’s words echoed in her mind, clear and certain. And in Thomas’s arms, Bridget knew she had known it from the start.

He drew back just enough to search her face. “They really did meddle, didn’t they?”

Bridget let out a soft laugh. “From the very beginning. Your father with his letters, mine with his estate visits…”

“Do you think they’re smug about it?”

“Oh, definitely.” She glanced toward the door, lowering her voice. “Which is why we’ll never admit they succeeded.”

Thomas grinned. “Agreed. Let them wonder if we figured it out despite them.”

She leaned in, her smile wry. “Let them wonder who truly outmaneuvered whom.”

Their laughter mingled, quiet, full of relief and something deeper. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

And if their fathers overheard from the hallway, neither of them said a word.

The End