He shook his head. ‘He has kept to himself. Thus far, he has remained with your mother at home.’
She was glad to hear that he had arrived there safely. And although he had bid her farewell, she could not relinquish her worry. Perhaps his illness had worsened, and he wanted to spend the remainder of his days at home with Mother. But she didn’t want to think of him suffering.
Another thought occurred to her, and she asked, ‘Will Papa have to speak to the magistrate on my behalf, as well?’
‘I think it’s best if the attorney handles his testimony,’ Dalton countered. ‘We cannot afford a moment of madness.’ She knew he was referring to her father’s act of violence against Miss Goodson.
His arms closed around her, and she knew she was putting her life in his hands. Everything came down to this meeting with the magistrate—and she feared the worst.
Over the past few days, Lord Brevershire had been more demanding than Dalton had ever known. Both of them had stayed up late each night, going over their plans. And yet, he could not have been more grateful for his father’s help. Dalton had offered to live in Scotland, retiring to a quiet life with Regina, if they managed to save her.
Instead, John had demanded that he take on more responsibilities, including caring for all the estates and handling their investments. He had no choice but to take on the full weight of the earldom, though the title was not yet his.
Dalton wanted to believe that he and his father would succeed, but the truth was, he had no idea. They had set their plans in motion, writing countless letters until his fingers were stained with ink and sore. Right now, he felt as if he were in the midst of a war, fighting for his wife’s survival. But he would spend every coin he had if it meant protecting her.
He had hired the best attorney in London for her, and they had spent all morning discussing her case. Mr Hortense Whitley had listened, taken copious notes, and he had also sent word to the magistrate, moving the meeting to later in the afternoon.
‘You have a good chance of winning,’ he said to Dalton, ‘but do not let your wife or her father speak to the magistrate. They could incriminate themselves without even knowing it.’
‘Regina will do as we ask,’ Dalton said. Earlier that morning, they had agreed that she would remain in hiding to keep her safe. ‘It’s her father who could be questionable. I asked him to join us this morning, so you can advise him.’
‘We have a few advantages,’ Mr Whitley said. ‘Namely, the cost of a trial would be high, and Mallencourt’s family would have to pay for it. It has also been several years since the ruling, so time is on our side. Last, the blackmail would only incriminate Lady Anne—or it could possibly be used against the Mallencourts. It all depends on whether that comes out in the meeting.’
‘What is the purpose of resurrecting this case?’ Dalton asked. ‘What do they hope to gain?’
The attorney shrugged. ‘Power and influence, I suspect. If they believe they have an advantage over your family, it would be a means of intimidation...’
And likely that was the true reason. The threat of scandal had forced Havershire to pay thousands of pounds to protect his daughter’s good name. The Mallencourts might have the same goal, of extortion.
It was rather like an elaborate game of chess. The winner would have to make sacrifices and accept losses for the overall good. And Dalton had already made his first move.
The door opened, and Lord Havershire walked inside. Dalton stood and greeted the man, asking, ‘Won’t you sit down and join us?’
The earl did so, and he folded his hands in his lap. The attorney was about to go over their plans, when Havershire suddenly broke into a racking cough. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief and took a moment to clear his throat. Then he said, ‘Forgive me. I fear, my health is not what it used to be.’
‘Of course,’ the attorney said. ‘If you would care for some tea...’
‘In a moment.’ The earl waved him off. ‘Before you begin speaking of your plans, there is something we should discuss.’
‘Go on.’ The attorney dipped his pen in the inkwell and regarded him.
Lord Havershire’s gaze moved from Dalton to the attorney. ‘This situation is about human greed, is it not? The vultures wish to strip us of everything, in order to benefit themselves. Even if we indulge them, it will never be enough.’
He coughed again, his shoulders shaking from the exertion. ‘I know this, because I borrowed money to pay the blackmailer for nearly five years. To me, it was a worthwhile endeavour because it protected our family name. Tavin MacKinloch loaned me the money when some of my investments failed. I managed to rebuild our wealth last year, and now that I have the funds to repay his family, and restore Regina’s dowry, I owe a great debt to the laird.’
‘I have already repaid your debt,’ Dalton informed him. ‘For Regina’s sake.’ He had quietly taken care of it, giving Lachlan the money that his family was owed.
The earl sobered. ‘Then I will return the funds to you, for I take care of my own debts. But now, we must do everything in our power to protect my daughter. I am prepared to make the sacrifice.’ His gaze moved from one man to the next. ‘If that means shouldering the blame for Mallencourt’s death, I will do so.’
The attorney rose from his chair. ‘No, sir. Absolutely not. You risk losing your title, your estates—no. You must not confess to a murder you did not commit.’
‘There was no murder at all,’ Dalton interjected. ‘Mallencourt’s death was accidental.’
‘Indeed,’ the attorney said, ‘but we must tread carefully. Had you not attempted to cover up his death, there would be
