Page 26 of The Spinster's Resolve

T he next day, Lord Edward and Lord Harry arrived for their morning visit. However, no sooner had they stepped inside than the Bow Street Runners, led by the Duke, were already waiting. The entire household was taken by surprise at their sudden intrusion, and confusion spread as Lord Edward was confronted.

‘You are under arrest, sir, for smuggling, kidnapping, and murder,’ announced the Bow Street Runner whom Grace recognised from the night they had rescued the girls.

‘How dare you! Do you know who I am? What on earth are you talking about, man?’ Edward growled as the officer attempted to restrain him.

Lord Edward stumbled back , his breath coming in sharp bursts. His eyes darted around the room , searching urgently for someone—anyone—to speak in his defence.

‘There must be some mistake! I didn’t do anything! You must believe me!’ he cried.

The Duke took a threatening step forward.

‘No! How dare you, cousin! How dare you return to this house, time and again, after committing the ultimate betrayal?’

He seized Edward by the collar, yanking him off the ground. His voice was like steel.

‘Do not deny it, Edward. The evidence against you is insurmountable.’

At this, Lord Edward froze. ‘What are you talking about?’ His eyes darted around the room. No one spoke, all too shocked to even move.

The Duke shook him, their eyes locked, before Lord Edward lowered them, ‘You coward! Look at me... How dare you even speak to us, pretending you had nothing to do with Gareth’s so-called accident?’

The Duke’s voice broke. He released Edward’s collar and took a step back, as though the weight of betrayal had struck him physically.

‘How could you poison Father and then return to this house as though you had done nothing?’

Edward’s strangled reply came at last. ‘There must be... You are mistaken... I had nothing to do with it.’

The Duke snapped, his fury rekindled.

‘Enough!’ The Duke’s voice thundered through the hall. ‘Stop your pathetic lies, Edward.’

He threw something onto the floor with a clatter—a gold pocket watch.

‘Recognise it?’ he asked coldly. ‘It was found on Gibbs’ corpse.’

Edward flinched.

The Duke took another step forward.

‘And that’s not all. You and your friends have been kidnapping girls from the countryside and selling them at Madame Jacqueline’s brothel.’ His voice dripped with suppressed rage. ‘Your name is on the deed.’

He paused, then delivered the final, damning blow.

‘The Bow Street Runners saw you enter it just days ago.’

Silence.

‘How could you do it?’ The Duke’s voice broke. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.

‘We loved you. Gareth loved you. Father treated you like his own son!’

He let out a sharp, ragged breath. ‘And yet you killed them both.’

His face twisted in pain. Slowly, he turned his back on Lord Edward. Not just in fury. But in grief.

For a long, tense moment, Edward just stared.

His breathing slowed. His eyes became hooded, cold and lifeless. Then, slowly, he turned to Lord Harry.

Their eyes met.

A flicker of something unspoken passed between them. A silent message. One of warning? Or resignation?

Lord Harry’s jaw tightened. He barely, imperceptibly, shook his head.

Edward exhaled sharply. His shoulders relaxed. His face smoothed into eerily perfect calm.

When he spoke, his voice was hollow.

‘I let you down, brother. I am sorry.’

Without another word, he turned to the Bow Street Runners and extended his wrists.

‘I am responsible for all the crimes.’

He did not look back.

A long silence settled over the foyer as the residents stood in varying degrees of shock and disgust.

Lord Harry was the first to speak. ‘I always knew he was on a disgraceful path, with his philandering and loose morals, but I had no idea he was such a monster.’ His voice was hollow, his shoulders heavy as he sighed and turned to leave.

Grace noticed something strange—relief. Lord Harry looked almost... relieved. As if a great burden had been lifted.

Had he known all along?

Elizabeth, however, was distraught. She sobbed into the Duke’s chest.

‘How could he have done this to us? It just doesn’t make any sense. He was always so attentive and kind to me. I just don’t understand how he could have done all those things!’ Confusion marred her tear-streaked face.

‘I know, Eliza,’ the Duke replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her close. ‘He deceived us all.’

He led her away to the morning room, followed by Lord Gerrard and Lady Jane.

Grace, Heather, and Mrs Merriweather quietly retreated, allowing the family some privacy. They made their way to Grace’s chambers, where they mulled over the morning’s events.

‘I just do not understand how Lord Harry did not know his brother was evil,’ Heather said, frowning.

‘Hush, child!’ Mrs Merriweather scolded. ‘Only God can read the hearts of men. We were all deceived.’

‘I know, Mrs M, but Heather has a point,’ Grace said thoughtfully. ‘They lived together, and from the way Lord Harry spoke of him, it seemed as though he knew at least some of his brother’s nefarious activities.’

‘Yes, Miss Grace, you are right, but he cannot have known the full extent of it,’ Mrs Merriweather replied, taking a sip of tea. ‘Besides, he has his own burdens. After all, he has been shunned by society because of that leg.’

‘I must say, sister, finding that watchmaker was a stroke of genius!’ Heather said, clearly impressed.

‘Not genius, my dear—more like a stroke of desperation!’ Grace replied passionately. ‘Lord Edward proposed to me on the day of the ball! Even after I refused, he was threatening to persist. What is more, Lady Elizabeth was encouraging the match!’

Both Heather and Mrs Merriweather gasped in astonishment.

‘Why did you not tell me?’ Heather cried.

‘I just did!’ Grace retorted, though she knew it was not the only significant event she had neglected to mention from that night.

‘Well, whatever the reason, you are quite the Bow Street Runner. You should do this sort of thing professionally!’ Heather teased.

‘Certainly not!’ Mrs Merriweather interjected. ‘Don’t you go putting ideas into your sister’s head. You know how flighty she can be!’

And before the conversation could continue, she firmly refused to discuss the matter any further.

But Grace could not shake a nagging doubt.

Something did not make sense.

Why had Lord Edward first insisted he was innocent, only to confess so abruptly?

She had seen deception before. People wore masks. But could anyone be such a convincing actor? There had been a look of desperation in his eyes when he had protested. A look of truth.

No—he had to be the murderer. He had confessed.

And yet...

Doubt crept in.

Just to be sure, she decided to write to Mr Smith Jr. and verify who had arranged the purchase of Skye Manor and the brothel. Confidentiality would be an issue, but for the sake of truth, Grace reasoned that a little emotional blackmail—reminding Mr Smith of his guilt towards Heather—would not cause too much harm.