His gaze flickered to Frederick before the marquess replied, “They were lifetime members of a very exclusive club—or brotherhood, as they called themselves. There are a dozen men in all who form this brotherhood. Every one of them very rich, very powerful, and absolutely evil.”
The icy chill Katherine had been resisting danced down her spine. She glanced quickly to her brother and noted his expression of intense curiosity. She wished she had his courage at that moment.
“I reckon they weren’t engaging in weekly sewing circles,” Mason offered darkly.
Warfield gave a discordant laugh as he lowered his chin. “It’s all you could imagine and worse. Malevolent practices. Rape. Murder. Carried out over decades with total impunity.”
Though she felt she knew the answer, she still had to ask. “My father?”
Warfield’s focus flew swiftly back to her. “Just a pawn, Lady Katherine. He had no idea what he was involved in.”
She glanced to Mason. “I think he suspected. Near the end.”
The marquess shifted in his seat, leaning forward to meet her gaze with a sharp and poignant stare. “The brotherhood and all its members will be destroyed. Lord Shelbourne’s death last night marked the beginning of their end. I intend to ensure that end comes quickly and completely.”
“It sounds like you have a personal stake in the fate of this brotherhood,” Frederick noted evenly, speaking for the first time since Warfield began his explanation. “Something that goes beyond your father’s involvement.”
A shadow flickered in the marquess’s pale blue eyes. “I do.”
Frederick tilted his head. “I suspect it involves the circumstances of your birth?”
The cold curve of Warfield’s mouth couldn’t quite count as a smile. “Not my birth so much as my conception. As I said, the wickedness of the past shall be rectified.”
Warfield’s vow left no room for question or debate. It was clear he intended to do exactly as he declared.
Sharing a quick look with her brother, Katherine leaned forward. “If there’s anything we can do...”
“No, my lady.” Warfield shook his head. “You and His Grace have been pulled too far into it already. Aside from the prior marquess and Shelbourne, it’s highly doubtful any of the other members knew of Shelbourne’s activities involving your family. It would go against their code. I’ve learned that the brotherhood’s existence relies upon very strict rules of secrecy. Even amongst themselves. I don’t believe you need to worry of any further attention from the brotherhood.”
Katherine hoped what he said was true, but she wasn’t quite so trusting.
“You seem to know a great deal about them,” Mason noted.
Warfield’s expression darkened even further as he tipped his head to Katherine. “Like your father, the prior marquess left behind some journals. During his extended exile to the Continent, his loyalty to the brotherhood became a rather fluid thing.” His jaw clenched. “He revealed a great many secrets in his writing, including a detailed explanation of the rules that govern the brotherhood. Rules that had exiled him from so many of the pleasures he enjoyed.”
As Warfield’s words settled into the room, Foster intoned from the doorway, “Pardon the intrusion, but there is a man here who insists on speaking with Mr. Hale. Immediately.” The butler’s expression made it clear what he thought of the impudence of such a suggestion as he settled a hard gaze on Mason. “He claims you’re expecting him, sir.”
Katherine looked to Mason, wondering what this was about, but the man was already on his feet and halfway across the room. He did glance over his shoulder at her, however, to offer a quick smile. She didn’t miss the light of expectation in his eyes.
“It’ll only take a moment,” he noted.
She looked to Frederick questioningly, but he gave a shake of his head. The nature of Mason’s unexpected departure from the room triggered an awkward moment of silence as they all waited for his return.
It was barely a few minutes later before he stepped back through the doorway. His gaze found hers right away as he strode swiftly to the sofa. He held a black woven sack in his hands.
“An important delivery, Mr. Hale?”
“The most important,” he replied with a tilted grin as he reclaimed his seat beside her.
Before she could ask what it was, he reached into the sack and pulled out three slim volumes. She recognized the binding immediately.
An overwhelming feeling of astonished relief washed through her, clogging her throat and shortening her breath. “Father’s missing journals,” she gasped.
“Every bloody one.” Mason set the short stack of books in her lap. “The dates all line up.”
Smoothing her hand over the cloth covering of one journal, she looked at Mason in stunned wonder. “How did you...”
“I had my mate fetch them before they could be found by anyone else.” Fetch. As in burgle. He flicked a glance at Warfield. “In case Shelbourne had associates who might step in and take on what the lord had failed to do.”
Surprise and overwhelming gratitude twisted her tongue for a moment as she looked to Frederick then back to Mason. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Then don’t,” Mason replied gruffly.
Turning the books over in her hands, she considered what they meant. The contents had brought about such tragedy and ruin. Their father’s heartbreaking demise, the loss of their home, and the deaths of possibly countless others.
Lifting her head, she met Frederick’s heavy stare and saw the same emotions in his eyes that she was experiencing. Then he gave a stern nod.
Rising to her feet, she took the journals to the fireplace. And without hesitation, tossed them into the flames. As she watched the fire consume her father’s work, she released a long-held breath.
Turning back to the room, she lifted her chin and smoothed out the wrinkles in her gown. “Now, they’re destroyed. As Father intended.”
Mason’s eyes, as he looked at her then, glittered with admiration and respect. It was such a contrast to his usual mocking humor that she stilled as her heart began to beat heavily
