Chapter Thirty-Five
E wan nudged Juliet and nodded toward Sebastian, whose face had gone pale.
The room’s murmur hushed to silence when Juliet’s parents made an unexpected entrance. With a grace that gave no indication of their mission, they approached the gathering around Sebastian and the archbishop.
Aunt Geraldine and her sister stood side by side. Cecilie took the document and scanned it with a practiced gaze. A frown creased her brow as she turned to face the onlookers. “I did not sign this.” Her voice resonated with authority. “And even if I had the power to do so, which I assure you I do not, I would have at least spelled my own name correctly.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room as she pointed to the signature at the bottom of the page. “This says ‘Cecily,’ with a y but I am Cecilie, with an ie and I have always been so.” She turned, glaring at Sebastian. “This document is a forgery.”
Sebastian’s earlier confidence evaporated like mist under the warm morning sun. His face paled, and his eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, a wave of indignation and disbelief crashed over him.
Two men, Bow Street Runners, stepped forward and positioned themselves on either side of Sebastian. He attempted to step back, but their firm grips on his arms halted his retreat.
“Unhand me!” Sebastian demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. “This is a misunderstanding!”
Ewan stepped forward, his expression resolute. “There is no misunderstanding, Sebastian. You forged Lady Fairmont’s signature and threatened to abduct Lady Juliet. All by your own words. Your deceit ends here.”
Sebastian’s eyes flickered with a mix of fear and anger. “You cannot do this! I have powerful friends—”
“Your friends will not save you now,” Ewan interrupted, his voice cold and unwavering. “You will answer for your crimes.”
“Lord Barrington, if you please.” The archbishop motioned to his friend, who stood close by.
“It would be best to take Sebastian into the library and address this there. We don’t need the entire ton involved.”
Barrington nodded, his expression serious. “That is a wise move,” he agreed, glancing around to gauge the mood of the room.
The archbishop stepped forward with a reassuring smile. “I’ll see to your guests.”
Ewan inclined his head, gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you, Your Excellency.”
Barrington nodded, understanding the need to control the situation. He turned to the Bow Street Runners holding Sebastian. “Come with me. We’ll take Mr. Morgrave to the library.” As Barrington and his men moved swiftly across the room. Sebastian’s protests grew louder, his face twisted with panic. “You can’t do this! It’s an outrage!” But his words fell on deaf ears as the Bow Street Runners firmly guided him out of the ballroom.
Ewan turned to the others. “Come with me, please. There is still much to discuss. For all our sakes, we will do it in the library.” Juliet, Aunt Geraldine, her parents, Dr. Manning, Duncan, and Ewan’s parents followed.
The tension in the ballroom began to ease. The musicians resumed playing with calming music.
“I don’t think this was what Lord Aurington had in mind as a surprise.” The archbishop stood near several matrons of the ton .
“Your Excellency, do you have any idea what they plan?” asked one of the women.
“I can assure you this was not the evening’s entertainment. I have it on very good authority you will be very glad you stayed.” He gave a knowing smile and made his way to the next gaggle of women while others kept an eye on the library doors, awaiting further developments.
*
Once inside the library, the door was closed, ensuring privacy. The room, lined with rows of leather-bound books and a warm fire crackling in the hearth, starkly contrasted the tension that filled it.
Ewan turned to Dr. Manning. “Dr. Manning’s examination of Bradley Hayward’s body revealed signs of a struggle and injuries consistent with being pushed from the balcony.”
Juliet’s gasp echoed through the room. Her grip tightened on Ewan’s arm, and her heart pounded. Ewan gave her a reassuring nod. She glanced at her parents, holding each other tightly.
Her mother, eyes brimming with tears, clutched her father’s arm. “I knew it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I always knew our Bradley wouldn’t leave us like that.”
Her father, usually stoic, had a rare, visible tremor in his hands. He pulled his wife closer, his voice rough with emotion. “Justice for our boy. Finally.”
Dr. Manning nodded solemnly. “The bruises and the angle of the injuries clearly support this conclusion.”
Sebastian’s face blanched. “This is preposterous!” he blustered. “Sheer fabrication!”
“We are not done.” Barrington held up a sealed letter. “Through the diligent efforts of our associates abroad, we have obtained a confession from a man in France—a hired assassin who was responsible for the tragic death of Duke Berry. In his confession, he reveals that the true target was not the Duke.” He turned to Ewan. “But Lord Glenraven.”
Sebastian sneered, his bravado slipping. “These are mere allegations with no solid proof.”
Ignoring the outburst, Barrington pressed on. “We have further evidence of Mr. Morgrave’s illicit activities.” He continued, “Mr. Reynolds, Lord Fairmont’s accountant, has come forward with a confession. He admits to ‘adjusting’ the Fairmont books under the direction and duress of Sebastian Morgrave. He was coerced into manipulating the ledgers to conceal funds being funneled to… unsavory parties. He feared for his livelihood and his life if he refused.”
Juliet’s heart pounded with a whirlwind of emotions: grief, anger, and a fierce sense of relief. She released Ewan’s hand and glanced at him. He gave her the silent encouragement she needed. Juliet stepped forward, her voice trembling yet strong. “We’ve been living in a nightmare, but now, now, the truth is finally out.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she held her head high. “You will pay for the pain you’ve caused us. For Bradley’s sake and for all of us, you will answer for your crimes.”
Sebastian sneered, his veneer of charm slipping. “You have no proof of anything. Accusations, that is all you have. That and the word of a cowardly accountant means nothing.”
Barrington’s eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, we have tangible evidence.” He produced a small vial. “Duncan found this among your possessions. It’s a concoction of Bergamot and birch tar, the scent the Order of Shadows uses in their rituals.”
He handed it to Lord Aurington, who took a whiff. His face turned crimson with fury.
“Moreover,” Barrington continued, “the stain of this same scent was detected on the fragment of cloth found at the scene of Bradley’s death and the binding of his diary.”
“And my carriage!” Aurington shouted, his voice shaking with rage. “By God, you have the nerve to tamper with my property and smear my name with your vile schemes!” He turned to Barrington. “And I owe Watts an apology.” He shook his head.
Sebastian’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape or an ally, but found none. Desperation etched lines across his face. “You cannot prove any of this! You’re all against me!”
“It’s over, Sebastian,” Ewan said coldly.