Chapter 21
After seeing Charlotte safely home, Luca sat in the coach as it traveled to his townhouse. His thoughts were anything but still. The memory of Charlotte’s pale face and trembling hands refused to leave him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her in that cell—brave, defiant, and utterly alone.
When the coach came to a stop before his townhouse, he climbed out and ascended the steps, fatigue dragging at his limbs.
The door opened before he reached for the handle.
His butler bowed silently as Luca entered, grateful to be home at last. He had barely stepped into the entry hall when he spotted his brother descending the staircase, his expression equal parts irritation and curiosity.
“Were you out all evening?” Jude asked, his tone bordering on accusation.
“I was,” Luca admitted, unbuttoning his coat and removing his gloves. “But it is not what it looks like.”
Jude reached the bottom step and crossed his arms. “It looks like you were out with Miss Winslow.”
Luca shook his head. “No, I was with Alcott. Charlotte was abducted.”
For a heartbeat, Jude simply stared at him. “Abducted?”
“Yes.” Luca set his gloves upon the side table and raked a hand through his hair. “It was connected to my investigation into The Chelmsford Asylum.”
“Good heavens.” Jude’s expression softened. “Is she safe now?”
Luca nodded. “She is. She’s at home under Alcott’s protection.”
Jude exhaled a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want to hear every detail, but not before I have some coffee. Come, join me.”
Luca followed his brother down the corridor. Once they reached the dining room, a footman poured two cups of coffee and Jude took a long sip before speaking.
“Now,” he said, “I am ready.”
Luca regarded him with faint amusement. “Did you not sleep well?”
“I never sleep well,” Jude admitted. “But that matters little. Tell me about your investigation.”
So Luca did. He began with the death of the late Duchess of Brackenford and unfolded the story piece by piece—the discoveries, the dangers, and at last the rescue of Charlotte and Lady Matthew.
He left out the involvement of Rupert and Rosalie.
That tale was not his to tell. By the time he finished, Jude shook his head in disbelief.
“Poor Lady Matthew,” Jude murmured. “To return to her husband after such an ordeal. Do you believe she is safe?”
“We’ve contacted Warwicke,” Luca said, setting his cup down. “He’s arranging for Bow Street to intervene. With any luck, Lord Matthew will find himself in Newgate before the week’s end.”
“Do you think there’s enough evidence to convict him?”
“There is,” Luca replied. “Especially when my article is printed tomorrow. Society will know the truth of his cruelty.”
Jude’s lips quirked faintly. “And if Lady Matthew petitions Parliament for divorce, I shall rally support among the peers. It’s high time a man like that has his comeuppance.”
A footman placed a plate of eggs and toast before Luca. He picked up his fork and took a slow bite, though hunger was the last thing he felt.
Jude’s gaze was far too perceptive when he asked, “Now that the danger has passed… what do you intend to do about Miss Winslow?”
Luca set down his fork. “I intend to marry her.”
Jude grinned. “I rather thought so. But does she want to marry you?”
Luca hesitated, discomfort prickling. “I don’t know. But I know she isn’t indifferent towards me.”
“That is a promising start,” Jude quipped.
Before Luca could reply, a familiar, deeper voice came from the doorway. “Stop tormenting your brother, Jude.”
Their father entered and moved to the head of the table. “I apologize for eavesdropping,” the duke said as he took his seat. “But I heard enough to know you’ve uncovered something significant. Do you truly believe the Duke of Brackenford was aware of the asylum’s activities?”
“I don’t know how he couldn’t have been,” Luca replied. “His name is tied to every account, every transfer of funds. Even if he didn’t wield the knife himself, he sanctioned it through silence.”
Their father’s mouth tightened. “Then I shall take this matter to the Prince Regent. The man will not escape justice under my watch.”
“Won’t he just claim privilege of the peerage?” Jude asked.
“Perhaps,” their father conceded, “but the Prince Regent could send him abroad—make him an ambassador to some small, forgotten kingdom. Better exile than impunity.”
Luca dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Regardless of politics, I intend to print the truth. The world deserves to know who he really is.”
Their father inclined his head. “Do so. The truth must be printed, consequences be damned.”
Luca met his father’s steady gaze. “Thank you.”
A faint smile touched the duke’s lips. “One question, however—will you mention Miss Winslow in your article?”
Luca leaned back, considering. “I haven’t decided. She was instrumental in uncovering the truth, but I will not endanger her reputation.”
“You will know the right thing to do when the time comes,” his father remarked.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Luca muttered.
The duke’s eyes twinkled with subtle amusement. “Now, as to Jude’s earlier question—how, precisely, do you plan to persuade Miss Winslow to marry you?”
“With charm,” Luca said at last. “And a great deal of persistence.”
Jude let out a bark of laugher. “Heaven help you, if you are relying on your charm to win a woman over.”
“I can be charming,” Luca protested.
“I have yet to see it,” Jude countered with mock solemnity. “Normally, this is when I would tell you to run far away and avoid the parson’s mousetrap entirely, but I fear it is far too late for you.”
Luca opened his mouth to retort, but the butler appeared in the doorway, as silent and composed as ever. “A Lord Rupert Milnes has requested a moment of your time, my lord.”
All trace of humor vanished. Luca rose at once, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Show him in.” Then glancing at Jude, he added dryly, “Please be less annoying when I return.”
Jude smirked, utterly unrepentant. “The same applies to you, dear brother.”
Suppressing a sigh, Luca left the dining room and strode down the corridor towards the entry hall.
He found Lord Rupert waiting near the door, his usual air of composure replaced by something darker—haunted, even.
His jaw was set, and there was a shadow behind his eyes that spoke of what he had seen.
“What is it?” Luca asked, bracing for more grim news.
Rupert lowered his voice. “After escorting Miss Dawlish, her son, and Mr. Bancroft to Newgate, I went back for the others—the prisoners left behind at The Chelmsford Asylum.”
Luca’s stomach clenched. “And?”
“I found four of them alive,” Rupert said quietly. “Barely. They were in deplorable condition. The physicians believe they’ll survive, but it will take time.”
Luca exhaled, tension easing only slightly. “Did you learn who they are?”
“I did.” Rupert’s expression darkened. “Their stories mirror Lady Matthew’s. They awoke in that place with no memory of how they arrived, held for weeks—some longer—fed little more than bread and water until their minds began to fray.”
He reached inside his coat and produced a worn ledger, its leather cover scuffed and stained. “I found this in Mr. Bancroft’s office. It lists every soul imprisoned at The Chelmsford Asylum over the years.”
Luca accepted the book and opened it carefully. Line after line of names filled the ledger, each entry marked with dates, initials, and cruel notations. His pulse quickened as he flipped through it. “There are over a hundred names here,” he murmured. “Surely, they weren’t all killed?”
“I don’t know,” Rupert admitted. “But many of the names matched those etched into the cell walls. I can only hope this book will bring answers—closure, at least—to some families.”
Luca looked up, the weight of the ledger heavy in his hands. “Thank you, Rupert. You’ve done more than anyone could have asked.”
Rupert inclined his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.”
“Wait,” Luca said quickly. “May I ask you something?”
Rupert’s expression flickered with wariness. “That depends on what it is.”
Luca hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at him since the confrontation in the corridor. “Who is Rosalie?”
For the briefest moment, Rupert’s entire body went still. The shift was almost imperceptible, but Luca caught the guarded look in his eyes.
“Rosalie is a friend,” Rupert said at last, his tone deliberate. “One I would protect with my life.”
“Yes, but who is she?”
Rupert placed a steadying hand on Luca’s shoulder. “No one you need concern yourself with.”
And with that evasive answer, he turned and departed, his boots echoing against the marble floor until the front door shut behind him.
Luca stared after him, the ledger still clutched in his hands, the unanswered question hanging heavily in the air. Rupert had secrets—of that much he was certain—and though Luca trusted him, it was clear that trust had limits.
A sudden thump struck the back of his head. He turned sharply, frowning as a bread roll bounced off the floor and rolled away.
He looked up to see Jude leaning casually against the doorway, one brow raised in satisfaction. “That was your sign. Go get Miss Winslow.”
“You threw a roll at me,” Luca said flatly.
“You’re lucky,” Jude replied, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Father wouldn’t let me throw anything heavier to get your attention.”
Luca brushed the back of his head, making sure no crumbs lingered. “I’m leaving, but not to see Charlotte—not yet. There’s something I must see to first.”
Jude folded his arms, studying him with that infuriating mix of amusement and concern only an elder brother could manage. “Is it more important than Miss Winslow?”
Luca paused at the door. “Nothing is more important than her,” he said. “But if I don’t see this through, I’ll never be worthy of her.”
And with that, he stepped outside, the weight of duty pressing on his shoulders and the thought of Charlotte keeping his resolve firm.