Chapter Thirty-Three
It was Friday, and calm had returned to Sommer-by-the-Sea.
The lamps in Barrington’s study burned low, casting long golden shadows across the leather-bound reports on his desk.
Outside, night still clung to the windows, though morning could not be far.
Mary-Ann sat opposite Barrington, the folio between them, its red ribbon frayed but untouched.
She had not removed her gloves. Not since the warehouse. Not since Rodney.
Quinton stood at her side, arms crossed, jaw tight. He had refused to leave her side from the moment they’d left the dock.
Barrington’s fingers moved over the first page, his eyes narrowing as he turned each sheet. “These are real,” he said finally. “And dangerous.”
Mary-Ann nodded once. “There’s a forged partnership agreement near the back. It was meant to force my father’s hand. To legitimize Rodney’s control.”
Quinton added, “The Order needed Seaton Shipping clean on paper. That’s why they never named Mr. Seaton in any of the smuggling.”
Barrington looked up. “They were going to blackmail him.”
Mary-Ann’s voice was quiet. “Until they had no need to.”
He closed the folio with deliberate care. “You’ve struck a blow, Miss Seaton. And a hard one. There’s panic in the Order’s higher ranks. This was misplaced, you see.”
She frowned. “Misplaced?”
Barrington gave a single nod. “According to our man inside, the Order’s been looking for this folio before Quinton returned. No one knew who had it.”
At that, Quinton looked at Mary-Ann.
Her fingers brushed over the ribbon once more. “It wasn’t chance I found it.”
Barrington studied her. Then he sat back. “Two arrests were made last night. Men we’ve been trying to identify for months. One is still in government. The other recently retired from the military. Rathbone and Trent.”
“Will it be enough?” Quinton asked.
“No. But it’s more than we’ve had in years.” Barrington paused. “And it was your doing. Both of you.”
Quinton’s gaze flicked to Mary-Ann, his mouth softening. Pride, relief, and something long-buried, hope, perhaps, shone in his expression. He had seen her walk into fire. And win.
Mary-Ann didn’t look away. “This isn’t over.”
He nodded once, solemn. “Then let’s see it through.
*
The small meeting room at Seaton Shipping had never felt so full.
Mr. Seaton sat at the head of the long table, his expression unreadable as the final pages of the folio were passed from hand to hand.
Around the table sat three long-time associates of the company, gentlemen who had known her father since before Mary-Ann could walk, and one man from the Town Council, his seal case resting on the table beside him.
Mary-Ann stood beside her father, silent, her hands clasped behind her back. She had not spoken yet. She did not need to.
The Councilman cleared his throat. “This is sufficient. The ledger forgeries alone are damning, and the partnership document…” He shook his head. “It’s plain fraud. There is no cause for further inquiry.”
One of the merchants leaned forward. “So Seaton Shipping’s name is restored?”
The Councilman gave a solemn nod. “Officially and without condition.”
The words did not echo, but they landed heavily, and Mary-Ann felt the shift as if the building itself exhaled.
Her father leaned back, looking older than he had hours before, but there was something else, too. A quiet breaking in his expression. As if a long-held shame had finally lifted.
“I owe my daughter more than I can ever repay,” he said, voice low but clear. “This company stands today because she refused to let it fall.”
Mary-Ann glanced down, overwhelmed.
“You were right,” he said, now looking at her. “About Rodney. About everything. I should have seen it sooner.”
“You trusted the wrong man,” she said gently. “But never for the wrong reasons.”
The room was quiet a moment longer before the meeting was declared adjourned.
As the others filed out, Mr. Seaton reached for her hand, not with formality, but with fierce, fatherly pride.
There had been a time, not long ago, when she would have given anything for a word of approval. Now, it came without condition. Earned. Equal.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” he murmured.
She smiled faintly. “Neither did I.”
*
Mary-Ann folded the final page of the folio and placed it in the inner drawer of her father’s desk. Her pulse had steadied. Her path was clear now.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Lydia stepped into the study with her usual poise, but something in her expression faltered when she met Mary-Ann’s gaze.
“You asked for me, Miss Seaton?” Lydia said, eyes flicking toward the desk, the window, anywhere but Mary-Ann’s face.
“Yes.” Mary-Ann gestured toward the chair. “You won’t be staying.”
Lydia blinked. “I… I don’t understand.”
“I believe you do,” Mary-Ann said quietly. “Rodney is gone. And whatever arrangement he made on your behalf no longer exists.”
Lydia didn’t sit. Her jaw tightened. “I served this household faithfully.”
“You spied on it,” Mary-Ann corrected. “And I allowed it, because I needed to see just how deep his reach extended.”
There was a long silence.
Then Lydia exhaled through her nose. “He wouldn’t have helped me, would he? Even if I’d needed it.”
Mary-Ann didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
Lydia’s expression flickered. She glanced toward the hall, then back again. “You should know… the folio,” she said slowly. “It went missing months ago.” No one knew where it was. Not even the ones giving orders.”
Mary-Ann’s breath caught. “You’re certain?”
“I was told to search your room. I did. But it was already gone.” Lydia hesitated. “They were desperate to recover it. Desperate enough to wonder if one of their own had turned.”
Mary-Ann crossed to the desk and opened the drawer. Her fingers brushed the ribbon securing the folio.
“I found your name,” she said softly. “LF has served her purpose. The girl suspects nothing. Remove her quietly.”
Lydia went still.
“I thought you should know what they planned,” Mary-Ann added, voice still gentle. “So that you might plan something else.”
Lydia didn’t speak. When she finally did, her voice was low. “I don’t care who wins. But I’d rather not be on the losing side.”
Mary-Ann studied her for a moment. “Then give me something.”
Lydia’s voice lowered. “They meet on the last Friday of every month. St. Andrew’s Club. It’s quiet. Private. Not everyone uses their real name.”
Mary-Ann nodded once. “Thank you.”
Lydia swallowed. “Will I be arrested?”
“No,” Mary-Ann said simply. “But you won’t be trusted. Not again.”
Lydia gave a single nod and turned to go. Just before she reached the door, she looked back. “You’re not the girl he thought you were.”
Mary-Ann held her gaze. “No. I’m not.”
Lydia’s voice was quiet. “You’re stronger.” She paused and took a breath. “And smarter.” She turned to leave.
“Lydia,” Mary-Ann said softly. “As a parting gift, you may keep the dressing case.”
Lydia blinked, the briefest trace of emotion passing over her face. Then she nodded, grateful, but quiet. She left without another word.
The door clicked shut.
Mary-Ann stood still for a moment, her hand resting on the back of the chair Lydia had never used. The silence settled around her, not empty, but earned. They had underestimated her. All of them.
She whispered, “Thank you, Hamish,” and turned toward the window, where the evening light had just begun to shift.
Outside, the lamps had already been lit along the lane. Mary-Ann drew on her gloves, the folio now locked away, and turned her steps toward Sommer Chase, where the future she had once planned was waiting to be reclaimed.