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They made their way to the door, each explaining their recent conversations, Asquith with Eltenham, Dixon with Barnes.

“If it were up to me, I’d see Eltenham hang,” Dixon said. “He shot his own son.”

“Eltenham has a right to a trial in Lords, and they aren’t likely to convict.” Asquith sent Dixon a meaningful sidelong glance. They almost hadn’t convicted Cochrane for his crimes. “You’re too dedicated to your job to allow his infamy to disrupt your vocation.”

“You make a good argument.” Dixon reluctantly nodded. “The scandal would be enormous if I suggested prosecution.”

He, too, would have rather things had ended differently, but Eltenham had taken the problem out of his hands. Now he had Lenora to protect.

A blonde woman with curls opened the door. She did not seem terrorized, only weary. As Dixon pressed, she admitted she had helped Willard abduct the girls. Dixon explained he was here to collect the them and to serve justice. She seemed to accept her fate.

“I will tell you who each of the girls are and where they came from.” She turned to Asquith. “Will you send Lord Neville to speak to me, please?”

“I will,” he said. “But first, is a young man named Preston present?”

She frowned. “I haven’t seen him.”

He sighed with relief. “Might you direct me to the master chamber?”

“Up the stairs.” She pointed. “Second door on the right.”

He hastened up the stairs, shuffled around beneath the mattress and found the box. He checked to make sure he’d found the forged bond and then slid the paper into his pocket.

Preston hadn’t been in the lodge. At least not yet.

Having gotten what he came for, and knowing Dixon would handle the rest, Asquith rushed back out, seeking Neville and Millie. He passed Barnes, who said he’d been sent to order transport for Lord Neville and his valet.

It took Asquith a second to realize Barnes had meant Millie.

“Ho!” Asquith called out to Neville as he approached. “Is Willard dead?”

“Very much so,” Millie answered.

Asquith stared at the barn door. His nemesis. Gone. And he felt...

Not much at all. Relief, perhaps. But only for the sake of those Willard had recently harmed.

Long ago, Asquith had studied, steeled, and strengthened himself enough to best Willard’s brawn. All the while, he hadn’t quite understood that to truly defeat his bully, he’d had to render the man inconsequential in his own mind.

Lenora had helped him reach the state of mind he’d needed. He’d known he’d already won as soon as Willard had ceased to provoke him. Once Willard had become irrelevant in his mind, he had been able to act with calm deliberation.

But what he’d just witnessed was something beyond might or stratagem.

Willard had been killed by his father’s own hand. The threat of exposure had caused a stronger bully to eat his own.

Disturbing.

Then again, he could be glad his part in the fight was over.

Asquith’s gaze moved to Millie. “How are you?”

“Well enough. I would have shot him, though. I almost wish I had. How do I live with that?”

Asquith snorted grimly. “Painfully. At least at first. I almost beat him to death, and I’ve had to live with those consequences for a lifetime.”

Her blank look told him she had yet to fully understand.

His eyes went soft. “Don’t carry guilt, Mil. Not over him.”