It was that word.
Ours.
As if Edward was their child. As if their future was settled. Together.
When nothing was farther from the truth. When she knew that honor demanded that she let him go now.
Themomenttheyexitedthe courtroom, Lord and Lady Rutledge came to talk to them and celebrate their victory. Michael greeted them but then turned to Josephine, noting the signs of stress in her tight mouth and rigid posture. He placed a gentle hand on her back.
“Could you go home with Lord and Lady Rutledge?” he murmured. “I’ll be along shortly.”
Her eyes searched his, dark with worry. But she nodded.
He watched her enter their carriage before turning and sweeping through the court's arched doorway, his expression hardening with every step. Titus Everleigh had been quick to slither out after the ruling, but Michael caught him just as he reached the edge of the steps.
“Mr. Everleigh,” Michael said coolly. “A word, if you please.”
Titus turned, the tightness in his jaw betraying the irritation he tried to hide behind a thin smile. “Of course,” he said, too smoothly. “If you wish.”
Michael gestured toward his waiting coach. “Inside. This won’t take long.”
There was no mistaking the steel in his voice. Titus hesitated, then obeyed.
Once inside, Michael shut the door with deliberate calm and rapped twice on the roof. “We stay put,” he told the coachman through the window. “I’ve business to conclude.”
Then he turned to face the man who had nearly destroyed Josephine’s life.
“I’ll get straight to the point, Mr. Everleigh,” Michael said, voice low and even. “I know the fire at Dunn Towers was no accident. There were signs of forced entry. Multiple ignition points. Paraffin residue. The constable concurred—it was arson, masked to look like an accident.”
Titus stiffened. “That’s… that’s ridiculous. You can’t possibly believe—”
“I do believe,” Michael cut in. “And even more relevant, you were in the area that night. You knew the layout of the house. You had motive—Josephine stood in the way of your ambitions. Perhaps you meant to frighten her. Or perhaps…” His voice grew colder, quieter. “You meant to harm her. Or the boy.”
Titus paled, then scowled. “You have no proof. Nothing that will hold in court.”
Michael inclined his head slightly. “Perhaps not enough to prosecute. But more than enough to take precautions. I’ve already done so.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch. Enjoying letting the worm squirm before he went in for the kill.
“I’ve acquired your debts,” he said smoothly.
Titus blinked. “What?”
“Every note, every scrap of paper you signed in desperation. I now hold them all. You likely assumed you’d be Edward’s guardian and soon control his estate. That fantasy is over. And you have no means to repay what you owe.”
“That’s extortion,” Titus spat.
“That’s consequence,” Michael replied. “You’ve spent years gambling with other people’s lives and fortunes. Now the game’s done.”
He leaned in. “I could call in those debts today. Have you arrested. Hauled before a magistrate. Sent to debtor’s prison. What would become of your wife then? Of your children?”
Titus blanched.
“But I’m not without mercy,” Michael said, the ice in his voice masking his fury. “For their sake—not yours—I’ll grant you this: you have one month. Sell your remaining property. Pack up your family and leave England. I don’t care where you go—America, India, the bloody moon if you like. But you are not to set foot on English soil again.”
“You can’t—”
“I can,” Michael said. “And I will. If I hear so much as a whisper of your presence in this country again, I’ll call in every farthing and make certain you rot behind iron bars.”
