Page 16 of Trusting Her Duke

One of the solicitors had stopped pretending to examine documents, his attention caught by this exchange. The other was writing something in a small notebook, his expression troubled.

“These allegations are quite improper,” Sir Lionel said, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “I had hoped to conduct this examination with professional courtesy, but if you insist on making unfounded accusations...”

“There is nothing unfounded about properly witnessed statements from your creditors.” Alexander’s voice came from directly behind Penelope’s chair now, solid and reassuring. “Would you care to examine those documents as well? I’m sure that they would make fascinating evidence for the Court of Chancery.”

The silence that followed felt sharp enough to cut. Sir Lionel’s face worked through several expressions before settling into careful blankness.

“I begin to think,” he said finally, “that perhaps this examination would be better conducted another day. When emotions are less... heightened.”

“By all means.” Alexander’s tone could have frosted the window panes. “Though I suggest you consider very carefully what evidence you choose to present to Chancery. Some games, once begun, cannot be easily abandoned.”

Sir Lionel’s departure held none of his usual smooth grace. The solicitors followed, one still scribbling in his notebook, the other looking distinctly uncomfortable. Lord Albert’s voice carried from the hall, courteously showing them out while managing to delay them long enough to ensure that no papers mysteriously disappeared during their exit.

Penelope’s hands trembled slightly as she closed the ledger. The full impact of what she’d just done - threatening Sir Lionel with exposure of his gambling debts - began to settle over her. If he chose to retaliate...

“That,” Alexander’s voice came, quiet behind her, “was either extremely reckless or absolutely brilliant.”

“Perhaps both?” She tried to keep her tone light, though her heart raced at his proximity. “Though I suspect that Lady Ashworth would be devastated to know that I used her confidences so directly.”

“Ah.” She heard the smile in his voice. “So that’s what she told you during that dinner party. I had wondered what intelligence you gathered while I was speaking with Featherstone.”

The reminder of that evening - of dancing and shared purpose and a kiss in the moonlight - brought all their current tension rushing back. Penelope rose quickly, needing space to think clearly.

“I should return home before the weather worsens again.” She gestured at her still-damp riding habit. “I’m hardly dressed for...”

“Penelope.” Just her name, but it held volumes. “Please. We need to talk about...”

“My Lord!” Albert’s voice interrupted from the doorway. “You need to see this. One of the stable boys found something interesting in Sir Lionel’s carriage while they were preparing to leave.”

Alexander made a sound of pure frustration.

“Now?”

“Now.” Lord Albert’s usually cheerful face held grim satisfaction. “It seems that our ‘friend’ was so concerned about examining our documents that he brought some of his own. Though I doubt he meant us to see them.”

He held out a leather portfolio, its contents partially visible where the clasp had broken - perhaps during a hurried exit. Alexander took it, his expression darkening as he examined the papers within.

“These are copies of the forged documents he planted in my study.” His voice held cold fury. “Complete with instructions on where to ‘discover’ them during today’s search.”

“Not just that.” Albert reached over to tap one particular page. “Look at the watermark. And the date.”

Penelope moved closer despite herself, drawn by the intensity in Albert’s tone. The paper Lord Albert indicated bore an intricate watermark - one she recognised immediately.

“That’s from the paper mill that burned down two years ago,” she said, leaning in to see better. “The one that supplied both our estates before...”

“Before Sir Lionel’s father bought it, just before that fire happened, claimed the insurance, and then sold the remains of the building and business.” Alexander finished. His arm brushed hers as he shifted the documents for better light. “Which makes it rather difficult for these supposedly ancient agreements to have been written on paper manufactured last month.”

“Last month?” Penelope looked closer at the date printed in the watermark. “But how did he obtain paper with that maker’s mark?”

“Because,” Lord Albert’s satisfaction grew more pronounced, “he didn’t just buy the mill. He bought the original plates and moulds as part of the purchase, and what was left of them went to the new owner as well, when it was sold on, after the fire. It looks like Sir Lionel has been having paper specially made by the new owners, planning to match old documents. Except...”

“Except he didn’t know about the subtle change in the watermark after the fire,” Alexander’s voice held grim triumph. “When they created the new main plate, they added a tiny arrow that appears in these forgeries, but wouldn’t have been there, in any paper made more than two years ago.”

Penelope straightened, her mind racing ahead.

“So we can prove that these are fake. We can show that they’re recently manufactured rather than historical documents.”

“Better than that.” Lord Albert pulled another paper from the portfolio. “We have his instructions to the paper maker. Complete with his seal and signature, and a rather detailed explanation of exactly why he needed paper that would appear aged.”

Thunder crashed outside, but it seemed distant now, unimportant compared to what lay before them. Alexander’s hand clenched on the portfolio.

“This is enough to ruin him completely. Not just in Chancery, but criminally. Forgery of this nature...”

“Is a hanging offense.” Penelope’s voice came soft, the gravity of their discovery settling over her. “Though given his connections in London...”

“His connections won’t help him once his creditors learn of this.” Alexander’s voice held the same quiet certainty she remembered from their days working together. “They’ve advanced funds based on his promises about the estates. When they discover those promises rest on forgeries...”

“They’ll turn on him immediately,” Albert finished. “Self-preservation, if nothing else. No one will want to be associated with such fraud.”

Penelope moved to the window, watching rain continue to slash against the glass.

“We’ll need to move quickly. Once he realises what’s missing from his carriage...”

“He’s already gone.” Rosalind’s voice came from the doorway. She looked slightly dishevelled, as if she’d been running. “Headed towards London at a gallop, despite the weather. Left his solicitors to find their own way back in the carriage.”

“Of course he did.” Alexander’s tone held dark amusement. “Running to warn his creditors, no doubt. Or perhaps to flee them.”

“Then we need to act now.” Penelope turned back to face them. “Before he can hide his assets or destroy other evidence. Lord Albert, can you ride to the local magistrate? We’ll need official witnesses to these documents.”

“Already sent for him,” Lord Albert smiled. “And Featherstone’s gathering the tenant farmers who were approached about giving false testimony. They’ll want to make statements of their own, I expect, now that the tide has turned.”

“Good.” Alexander moved to his desk, reaching for paper. “I’ll have messages sent to our London solicitors. They’ll need to file petitions immediately...”

“Alexander.” Rosalind’s voice held gentle warning. “Perhaps there are other matters that need immediate attention first?”

He looked up, his eyes meeting Penelope’s across the room. The air between them seemed to thicken with everything still unsaid.

Lord Albert cleared his throat.

“Rosalind, I believe we should check on those tenant farmers. Immediately.”

The door closed behind them with soft finality, leaving Penelope suddenly, acutely aware of being completely alone with Alexander for the first time since that disastrous night in his study. The rain drummed against the windows, filling the silence that stretched between them.

He moved first, setting down the portfolio with careful precision.

“You rode through a storm to warn us.”

“I rode through a storm to protect both estates.”

The words emerged automatically, the same defence she’d used earlier, but they felt hollow now.

“Did you?” His voice gentled. “Or did you ride through a storm because, despite everything, you couldn’t bear to see either of us personally destroyed by Sir Lionel’s schemes?”

“Does it matter?” She turned back to the window, unable to bear the way he looked at her - as if he could see straight through her carefully maintained composure. “We have what we need to stop him now. The rest is...”

“The rest is everything.” He moved closer, his reflection appearing beside hers in the rain-streaked glass. “Penelope, I was wrong. So terribly, unforgivably wrong.”

“Alexander...”

Her voice caught on his name.

“No, let me finish.” His hand rose as if to touch her shoulder, then fell back. “Fear and old hurts made me forget everything I knew about you. Everything we’d built together. I forgot that trust, once given, should not be withdrawn without absolute proof. I forgot...”

“You forgot that I loved you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, hanging in the air between them like something fragile and dangerous. She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw his reflection’s eyes close briefly as if in pain.

“Loved?” His voice held something raw. “Past tense?”

Before she could respond, voices rose from the courtyard below - Featherstone had arrived with several tenant farmers, all eager to give statements about Sir Lionel’s attempts to bribe them. The immediate demands of the situation pressed in again, reminding them both that personal matters must wait.

“We should...”

Penelope gestured vaguely towards the door.

“Yes.” Alexander’s voice held resignation. “The local magistrate will need to see these documents immediately. And we’ll need proper witnesses to every statement.”

She moved towards the door, but his voice stopped her.

“Penelope. Once this is done... once Sir Lionel’s schemes are fully exposed...”

“Then we can discuss everything else.” She managed to keep her voice steady. “But for now, we have duties to attend to.”

The following hours passed in a whirl of activity. Tenant farmers arrived in steady streams despite the weather, each eager to describe Sir Lionel’s attempts to undermine both estates. The local magistrate, a serious man named Sir James Whitworth, examined the forged documents with growing concern, even as the day darkened outside, evening now upon them.

“This goes far beyond simple property disputes,” he declared, setting aside another of Sir Lionel’s careful forgeries. “This is an organised attempt to defraud not just two estates, but the Court of Chancery itself.”

“And several London creditors,” Lord Albert added with satisfaction. “Our messenger just returned - apparently Sir Lionel’s arrival in London caused quite a stir among certain gaming hells. His creditors are already filing their own charges.”

Alexander, who had been reading through tenant statements, looked up sharply.

“How many creditors?”

“At least six major ones so far. Though more are coming forward hourly, according to our solicitor’s note. It seems Sir Lionel has been quite... creative with his promises about these estates.”

“He promised the same rights to multiple creditors,” Penelope realised, the full scope of Sir Lionel’s desperation becoming clear. “Each one thinking they alone would gain control once his case succeeded in Chancery.”

“And each advancing funds based on those promises.” Alexander’s voice held grim satisfaction. “No wonder he fled so quickly when he realised we’d found proof of his forgeries. His entire house of cards is collapsing.”

Sir James cleared his throat.

“Your Grace, my Lady - if I might suggest? These statements should be properly recorded immediately. And given Sir Lionel’s connections in London...”

“We need to move quickly,” Alexander finished. “Before he can marshal his allies or destroy more evidence.”

“Exactly.” The magistrate began gathering papers with efficient movements. “I’ll need both of you to attend me while I take formal statements from the tenants. Everything must be properly witnessed and sealed.”

Penelope glanced down at her still-damp riding habit.

“Perhaps I should return home first, change into something more...”

“No time,” Alexander cut in. “Every moment we delay gives Sir Lionel more opportunity to cover his tracks.” He paused, then added more softly, “Though perhaps Mrs Thackeray could find you something dry to wear? I believe that some of Rosalind’s old gowns might serve...”

The memory of the last time she’d borrowed Rosalind’s clothes - during that first stormy visit that had started everything - hung between them for a moment.

“Yes,” Penelope managed. “Thank you. That would be... sensible.”

As if summoned by their discussion, Mrs Thackeray appeared in the doorway.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but Cook insists on knowing if everyone will be staying for dinner? What with all these people arriving to give statements...”

Alexander glanced at Sir James, who nodded.

“This will take several hours at least. And more tenants are still arriving.”

“Then yes,” Alexander decided. “Please have dinner prepared for...” he glanced around the room, mentally counting, “at least twenty. Though perhaps served in stages, as people finish giving their statements.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” Mrs Thackeray turned to Penelope. “And if you’ll come with me, my Lady, we’ll find you something more suitable to wear while your habit dries.”

Penelope changed into one of Rosalind’s day dresses - dark blue this time, not the grey silk of memory - and returned to find the library transformed into an impromptu court.

Sir James sat at the main table, recording statements with methodical precision while Alexander and Lord Albert questioned each tenant about their interactions with Sir Lionel. She took her place beside them, her knowledge of the families proving invaluable as they pieced together the full scope of Sir Lionel’s schemes. The tenants spoke more freely to her, sharing details they might have hesitated to reveal to their landlords directly.

“He offered my Thomas a position managing the woodland,” Mrs Williams said, twisting her apron between work-roughened hands. “Said he’d be overseeing all the timber rights once the case was settled. But when I asked to see these promises in writing...”

“He refused?” Penelope prompted gently.

“Said there’d be time enough for papers later. But something in his manner...” The farmer’s wife shuddered slightly. “It reminded me of his father, in the old days. All smooth words and grand promises, until the debts came due.”

Sir James’s quill scratched steadily as he recorded her words. Alexander, standing near the window, asked quietly, “And your son? What did he think of these offers?”

“He was tempted, Your Grace. I won’t lie about that.” Mrs Williams lifted her chin. “But his father and grandfather worked these lands under your family’s protection. When I reminded him how your father stood by us during the bad harvests...”

Penelope saw Alexander’s expression soften slightly.

“The Williams family have always been loyal to both estates,” he said. “We don’t forget such things.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It’s knowing things like that that kept most of us from being took in by Sir Lionel’s fancy promises.”

As Mrs Williams departed, Lord Albert entered with fresh news from London.

“Sir Lionel’s creditors are moving faster than we expected. They’ve already filed petitions with Chancery to freeze his assets.”

“How did they act so quickly?” Penelope wondered, sorting through the latest batch of statements.

“Apparently,” Lord Albert’s voice held careful amusement, “someone had already sent copies of our evidence to several key creditors before Sir Lionel even reached London. They were waiting for him.”

Alexander looked up sharply.

“Someone?”

“Lady Rosalind may have mentioned something about using your old war contacts to expedite matters.” Albert’s smile widened slightly. “Amazing how quickly information can travel when the right people are motivated.”

“Speaking of information,” Sir James interrupted, “I believe that we have enough sworn statements now to proceed with criminal charges. Sir Lionel’s attempts to suborn tenant testimony, combined with these forgeries...”

A commotion in the hallway cut him off. Moments later, Featherstone burst in, his weathered face showing rare excitement.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Grace, my Lady, but you’ll want to hear this. Sir Lionel’s London solicitors - the ones who were here earlier? They’ve turned on him completely. Seems they had no idea about the forgeries, and now they’re worried about their own reputations.”

“Where are they?” Alexander demanded.

“Waiting in the morning room. Say they have documents you need to see. Evidence of Sir Lionel’s instructions to them about challenging both estates’ ancient rights.”

Penelope and Alexander exchanged glances. This could be the final piece they needed - proof that Sir Lionel’s entire petition to Chancery was based on deliberate fraud.

“Sir James?” Alexander turned to the magistrate. “Would you care to join us for what I suspect will be a most interesting conversation?”