Chapter Twenty
When Sophia told her brothers she wanted to visit Newgate Prison before returning to Montrose Manor, they insisted they accompany her.
They would all go together, the way they’d been that terrible morning—but this time to heal instead of to grieve.
And this time, with their loving spouses next to them.
They left Thornbridge House at dawn, before the city fully woke.
Sophia had asked one of the footmen to bring flowers to Charlotte’s townhome.
She carried them now as their carriage made its way through the waking streets of London.
The city looked quieter, gentler, this time of day, with the harsh edges softened by morning mist.
She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the cold, foggy morning they had walked with the crowd to witness the hanging.
She had clung to Sebastian’s hand, so afraid and sick with grief.
Eight years old. She reached into the past to hug the little girl she had once been.
It will be all right. You will make it through.
You will be loved. You will love a little girl and a man as passionately as Papa loved you.
When Newgate Prison came into view, Sophia felt as if she might be sick. The massive, imposing, merciless stone walls looked exactly as she remembered.
They all descended from the carriage. At this hour, the square was nearly empty, just a few vendors setting up stalls, a watchman making his rounds, a woman sweeping her stoop.
No crowd. No spectacle. Just a place to most. To her and her brothers, it was a part of town that lived forever in their nightmares.
The three siblings walked forward together, their spouses a few steps behind. Sophia knew exactly where the scaffold had stood. She knelt and laid the flowers on the cobblestones. Sebastian and James knelt on either side of her.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Then Sebastian’s voice, rough and breaking: “Papa, we avenged you. It took some doing, but everyone now knows the truth. I vowed on that day to seek revenge on the man who did this to you and I did. I was full of rage during those years, but in my pursuit of justice, I found love. I chose love over hate. It is what you would have done. We knew the truth about you, Papa. We’ve always known who you truly are.
That sustained us during the hardest times. ”
Sophia felt tears slip down her cheeks.
James spoke next, his voice thick. “I was angry. For so long. Angry at the men who lied. Angry at the judge who believed them. Angry at God for letting it happen.” He wiped his eyes roughly.
“I’m still angry sometimes. But I’m trying to let it go.
To live the way you taught us—valuing family above all else, being a force of good, treating everyone with kindness. ”
Sophia took a shaky breath, pressing her hands to her face.
“I have missed you, Papa. More than I could ever say. But we have all grown up. We’re happy now, despite the people who tried to destroy us.
I hope you can feel that from wherever you are.
They tried, but they could not pull us apart or destroy us forever.
Not really.” Sophia looked at her brothers, who had protected her and loved her even when they were barely more than children themselves.
“You taught us to always stick together. To take care of one another. And we have.”
The sun rose higher, warming the cold stones. Somewhere nearby, a church bell tolled the hour.
“We were the last thing he saw on this earth,” Sebastian said, turning toward Sophia. “That is what he wanted, and we gave it to him, even though it nearly destroyed us to see them take his life.”
“He made sure we knew it was us he thought of in those last moments,” James said. “For that, I have always been thankful.”
“It is time to let go of the past,” James said. “Once and for all.”
“Papa’s name is cleared,” Sebastian said. “The Ashford title is restored. Our children will grow up knowing their grandfather was a good man wrongly accused, not a murderer.”
“That’s what we fought for all these years,” James said.
“And now that it’s done, we can honor his memory by doing good in this world,” Sophia said. “And by loving our children as fiercely as he loved us.”
“He told me once that home was not a manor or a castle. That it was love—family—that made a home,” Sebastian said. “A rose garden, for example.”
“Sometimes in a room over a tavern,” James said, chuckling.
“Or the floor of a nursery, playing blocks,” Sophia said softly.
“Wherever we find ourselves, we are one another’s home and always will be,” Sebastian said. “We must never forget that truth.”
“We most certainly will not,” James said.
Sophia stood, brushing off her skirts. Her brothers rose with her. For a moment, the three of them locked arms and stood there, looking down at the flowers—a splash of color against the gray stones. Then, suddenly, the sound of a lark, singing from up above filled the silence.
Papa. He came. He sees us.
Her brothers let go, turning to their wives. She placed her hand in Henry’s, noticing that he was crying too.
They climbed into the carriages. As they pulled away from Newgate Prison, Sophia looked back one last time.
Soon, the flowers would be washed away or trampled by footsteps, but it did not matter.
For now, they marked the place where a loving father had once been taken from his children.
They would not forget. Or forgive. Yet, they could still love with all their hearts.
Which, in the end, made them the true winners of the battle.