Epilogue #2
Her friends sat in the first pew. Samantha, dressed in a beautiful periwinkle-blue gown leaned close to Christian, their fingers laced together.
Eloise sat beside them, hands folded in her lap, while Josephine grinned from her spot next to Isaac.
He sat tall in his Navy uniform, brass buttons gleaming in the candlelight.
Her gaze slid to the pew next to them and her chest tightened, a flicker of old affection quickly smothered by the cold weight of knowledge.
Her father did not smile, his eyes unreadable. She swallowed.
Though he’d procured furnished lodgings while their manor was being rebuilt, she had declined to stay with him, choosing Samantha’s invitation instead.
How could she share the same roof with a man who had dismantled so many lives with no remorse?
All for the clink of British gold. Still, excluding him entirely from the wedding had felt wrong.
He was her only family. The contradiction sat heavy beneath her ribs as Lucien guided her the final steps to the altar and took his place across from her.
His fingers brushed hers in silent reassurance, and the organ’s solemn notes swelled one final time before going silent.
As the minister stepped forward, the church door opened just enough to let one last person in. The shadowed form remained in the back, against the stone wall. Abigail stiffened. She didn’t need to see the man’s face to know the set of those shoulders, the cut of that fine yet sea-weathered coat.
Thorne.
Lucien caught her eye and gave a subtle nod.
He’d noticed too. Forcing air back into her lungs, Abigail turned her attention back to the altar, letting the ancient and steady cadence of the ceremony wash over her.
The vows passed in a blur of soft words echoing from the vaulted ceiling.
When the minister gave the pronouncement, she couldn’t help her grin.
Husband and wife.
As if every moment before had been leading here.
As the crowd began to file out of the church, Abigail’s eyes darted to the back of the room. The space by the door was empty, the shadow missing.
“Lucien, he’s gone.”
Christian followed her gaze with narrowed eyes. “Who?”
A hard knot gathered in her stomach. “Thor—your father, arrived during the ceremony.”
Isaac cursed. “I told him he wasn’t to come.”
Abigail’s eyes widened as her friends stared at the lieutenant with varying degrees of shock and the weight in her gut doubled. “What’s going on?”
Isaac pressed his eyes closed for a moment before facing her.
When he reopened them, he’d transitioned from friend to authoritative lieutenant.
“I have to arrest your father. My superiors suggested it happen here at the wedding because they knew he’d be cornered and wouldn’t risk a public scandal or a flight to the docks with you in your veil. ”
Josephine gasped from her side. “Isaac! Surely you don’t intend to—”
Christian stepped forward, a hard edge in his eyes. “No. They’re right. This is the best way.”
A strange hollowness filled her chest. While part of her reeled from the suddenness of it, acceptance rushed in to replace the void. Her gaze flitted toward her father who stood with a merchant, laughing softly as if his hands weren’t stained with the blood of so many.
Josephine stepped forward to argue further, but Abigail caught her by the arm. “It’s alright. I knew he would have to pay for what he did.”
Isaac’s expression softened. “I’m sorry for the timing.”
She gave a tight nod. “Do what you must.”
Abigail and her friends trailed the lieutenant as he approached her father, flanked by two uniformed officers who’d materialized out of the shadows. An uneasy quietness settled over the church as onlookers noticed.
Her father frowned when Isaac stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”
“By order of the District Court, and by my authority as a commissioned officer of the Navy, you are placed under arrest for high treason and conspiracy against the United States.”
“This is preposterous!” Her father backed against the wall, though outrage laced every word. “How dare you try this on my daughter’s wedding day? When the Secretary of the Navy hears of this, he’ll have your head. You’ll be lucky to command a rowboat when he’s done with you.”
Isaac didn’t flinch. Instead, a thin, dangerous smile played across his lips. “That will be difficult, considering the secretary was arrested himself this morning for his participation in the scheme.”
Her father’s eyes widened but his bluster remained. “You can’t do this.”
A blond brow lifted. “Not only can I, but I will. Now, do you come willingly, or shall we make a scene in front of all gathered here?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her father’s eyes darted toward the side door. “You have no proof. It’s my word against—”
“Against mine?”
The voice came from the corner, cold and lethal. Thorne stepped out from behind a column, the candlelight and shadows twisting across his face.
“Y-you!” Color drained from her father’s cheeks while he stared at Thorne as if a ghost had appeared in front of him.
Recovering with the desperate snarl of a cornered animal, he swung his gaze back to Isaac.
“That man is an enemy of the United States. If you don’t arrest him this moment, you’ll share in the treason you’re accusing me of. ”
Isaac chuckled. “On the contrary. He’s been cooperative with us and given us information vital to our investigation.”
Spittle gathered at the corners of her father’s lips. “It doesn’t matter. I wrote a letter to my friends in Washington exposing his identity. They will see to it he’s crushed like the vermin he is.”
Thunk!
A soft whistle was the only warning before a dagger embedded itself into a beam next to her father’s face, a folded piece of parchment pressed tight against the hilt.
Thorne strode forward, each footfall echoing from the floorboards like the rhythmic beat of a funeral drum.
He stopped in front of her father and yanked the blade from the wood with a splintering crack.