Chapter Ten: The Wrong Bridegroom

The marriage record was in the registrar’s office, sealed beneath a stack of property transfers. Julian read it, standing up. Eleanor Hartwell. Lord Reginald Blackwood. The ceremony is fixed for Saturday. The witness line was blank.

He took the document to Blackwood House before he could think himself into caution. Alistair received him with the ease of a man who had already planned for the visit.

“My father has chosen his bride,” Alistair said.

“Has he spoken to her?”

“My father’s health makes long conversations difficult.”

“That is not an answer.”

Alistair smiled. “You have no authority over my family.”

“I have authority to investigate the theft of Crown property.”

“Then investigate it. Leave Miss Hartwell out of your theatrics.”

Julian asked to see Reginald. A physician blocked the stairs, claiming the old man was asleep. From the landing came a cough so weak that Julian’s anger shifted into something colder. He looked at the bottle in the physician’s hand and saw the same red wax as the king's cordial.

“How long has Lord Reginald been taking that?”

The physician glanced at Alistair. That glance told Julian more than either man’s answer would have.

He demanded a postponement of the wedding. Alistair refused. Julian threatened to take the matter to the King, and Alistair answered that the King was in no condition to hear it.

Outside, Julian found Eleanor stepping into the carriage. He wanted to tell her everything. He also knew she would hear an order if he spoke too quickly.

“Don’t marry him,” he said.

Her face hardened. “You have no right to command me.”

“I’m asking.”

“Then ask why I said yes.”

He could not. She shut the carriage door. As it rolled away, Julian watched the curtain fall across the window and understood that his fear for her had become another pressure she would have to resist.

Before Julian left, Mrs Vale caught him in the front hall. She pressed a folded handkerchief into his palm. Inside it was a small scrap of paper with the hour of the wedding written in a trembling hand.

“Who gave you this?” he asked.

“She did not.” Mrs Vale’s eyes flicked toward the stairs. “And I did not say the old lord’s physician has been dismissed.”

Julian understood the warning. If Reginald was being isolated, the marriage was only one part of the plan. He asked whether Mrs Vale would testify. She looked down at her hands.

“I have served this family thirty years. My pension is in Lord Alistair’s keeping.”

“I won’t ask you to risk your livelihood.”

“You already have.” She stepped away, then added, “I can still tell you where the old papers are kept.”

Julian left with the location of the study’s hidden cabinet. The wedding date had moved; the paper trail had not. He decided to search for the earlier settlement before Alistair could destroy it.

That evening, he sent a notice to the registrar challenging the settlement. Alistair’s reply arrived before midnight: the ceremony had been moved forward.