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Ballantine leaned forward, his hands running over his face.

He was silent for a long moment. “I suspected Osgoode wasn’t the man I thought him.

Started to turn things over to James and Andrew.

Osgoode must have noticed the work I sent their way, but.

.. I never thought he’d go this far.” He settled back into his chair, frowning, his gaze far away.

Sara stifled the urge to tap her feet. This was not the time to settle into a brown study and reflect on Stephen Osgoode’s treachery.

They needed to act . “James is a good man. I love him.” It was the first time she’d said the words aloud and she lingered over them, feeling her heart soften and ache in her chest. She swallowed, forcing herself to continue.

“He has a daughter, and we need him.” Her voice broke.

“The magistrate probably won’t even speak with me. You’ve got to help us.”

“Don’t cry, Sally.” The use of her long-ago name only caused the tears to fall harder. Sara wiped them away, feeling the hope that had sustained her ebb away in the face of his continued silence.

Then her father sighed, all the air leaving his lungs in a great gust that left him deflated.

Smaller. “It’s my fault he’s involved, but I had to do something,” he said suddenly, his gaze drifting over her shoulder and focusing on the family crest of arms displayed on the mantel.

“Imagine the scandal if a Ridley got caught up in the rebellion.” His eyes moved back to her, and she was surprised at the grief they held.

“Promised his father I’d look out for young Andrew, but he’d moved beyond my reach.

I asked James to steer him out of trouble. Nice, solid lad, James Kinney.”

“You know James is innocent.” Sara prodded. “You can tell them he was only trying to protect—” She broke off, hearing voices in the front hall. Her father’s gaze strayed to the door. They couldn’t afford any delays. “Let’s go right now,” she said, forcing his attention back to her.

The door to the parlor swung open to reveal a harried McBain, attempting to block entry to the room.

“Let me pass.” The voice was familiar, as was the shock of red hair that barreled into the room.

Sara didn’t have time to wonder how Henry came to be here. McBain grabbed him and Sara intervened before Henry’s flailing legs made contact with McBain’s shins.

“He’s with me. Please, do let him go.”

McBain released the boy, taking a cautious step back. Henry righted his clothing with a withering glance at the butler and stalked into the room.

“You again?” Ballantine stared at Henry beneath lowered brows.

Henry was uncowed. “Mr. Kinney sent me to keep an eye on the missus.” He jerked his head in Sara’s direction. “See her home.”

Sara was still trying to find words to explain Henry to her father when Evie marched into the parlor.

“Evie?” Sara sat down on the settee with a thump. Evie was supposed to be home under the watchful eye of Mrs. Hobbes.

The girl avoided Sara’s eyes, seeking out her father instead. “Mr. Ballantine. How do you do? I’m Evie Kinney.”

Her father nodded, looking stunned at the rapid turn of events. Sara understood how he felt.

Evie looked up into Ballantine’s face, her eyes clear and focused. “You have to help my papa.”

Thomas Ballantine, political maven and man of business, looked helplessly from Evie to Sara, his eyes begging Sara to rescue him. “They won’t free him on my say-so alone.”

“Of course not,” Evie said with a wave of her hand. “We need to find proof.”

A strain of defensiveness seeped into the older man’s voice. “If you think I can snap my fingers and procure a witness out of thin air, let me tell you, young lady, the law requires—”

Evie had no time for a lecture. “Henry can do it.” She grabbed Henry by the arm, dragging him in front of Ballantine. “He delivered the message. He was with Papa all evening.”

Ballantine straightened, shooting the boy a keen glance. “The entire time?”

Henry nodded. “Aye, sir.”

“And who might you be?” Her father’s glance took in Henry’s ragged clothes.

Sara rose and placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder. “He’s our friend. Thanks to him I know what happened to James.”

Her father stroked his whiskers, weighing her words. “Still, a young lad, uneducated.” He waved a hand at Henry, encompassing everything from his unruly mop of hair to his boots, one of which was held together with a piece of string. “Irregular.”

Sara wondered how she could convince her father to take a chance on Henry, but she needn’t have worried. Evie stepped up, her hands on her hips.

“Henry is not uneducated. He can read and do some letters. And he knows more about what goes on in this city than anyone, Papa said so.” Her little chin jutted out in a way all too familiar to Sara. Thomas Ballantine had no idea who he was dealing with.

“Yes, well.” His fingers drummed a tense rhythm on the arm of his chair and his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Osgoode sent the message to James, eh? Pretending he was me?” He rose and paced the length of the room before turning to Sara.

“Impossible to prove, though.” A new urgency had entered his voice.

Evie stepped beside him and tugged on his sleeve. “Not impossible.” Her head whipped around, and she pinned Henry with her eyes. “Who was there when Osgoode gave you the message?”

Henry’s brows pulled together. “I reckon the groom beside me heard. And Pauly, the other stable boy. He wanted to take the message, but I were the one who knew where James Kinney lived, so he picked me.”

Ballantine stared at the children for a long moment, his brow furrowed. Then he smiled, patting Evie on the head. “Clever girl. Run along now, children, and tell McBain I’ll be needing the carriage instead of the horse, after all.”

He turned to Sara and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll make it right, Sally. I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

She wasn’t sure if he was still talking about James, or about her departure all those years ago, but it didn’t matter.

She saw the love in his eyes, felt the question underlying his words.

“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

They still had work to do to put the past behind them, but she sensed that healing had begun. For both of them.

His eyes closed, and his hands tightened on her shoulders. “I didn’t know if I’d ever get a second chance. I heard about the cholera epidemic, had Osgoode make some inquiries. The name O’Connor came up more than once and he could find no trace of you—” He broke off.

She shook her head. “I never stopped thinking about you, Papa. I hated how I left. And after Colin...” she shuddered.

His brow creased with concern as he looked down at her. “If you needed something, you should have come to me. You should have come home.”

“You said you never wanted to lay eyes on me again.”

“And you think everything I say in a temper is the gospel truth? I told you I tried to find you, but Osgoode...”

Stephen Osgoode had destroyed so much. She couldn’t bear to think he’d destroy James as well.

“He has a lot to answer for,” she said over the lump in her throat. “You’re the only hope I’ve got left.”

Her words seemed to inspire him, for the fire returned to his eyes. He turned, bellowing at McBain to bring his hat. “I won’t let you down, my girl,” he said over his shoulder. “No son-in-law of mine will be accused of treason. Not if I have anything to say about it.”