After Being Falsely Accused of Stealing From the Estate, She Handed the Duke Her Resignation — But He Tore It Up Before the Entire Household, Then Risked His Family’s Name to Prove the Governess He Couldn’t Let Go Had Been Framed

 PART 7

Twenty minutes later, the drawing room held nearly the entire senior household, the Harberrys, Charles, Finch, and the two investigators.

Emily stood beside the same fireplace where William had torn her first resignation. This time, no one mistook the trembling in her hands for guilt.

William placed the ledgers on the center table.

“Miss Carter’s name appears on seven fraudulent entries.”

Finch nodded eagerly. “Precisely, Your Grace — ”

“Unfortunately for you, the earliest entry was altered after the original account had already been submitted.” William produced the supplier’s letter. “And this merchant confirms that inflated payments were returned to Finch, under instructions from C. Harrington.”

Charles laughed. “A letter conveniently discovered by Miss Carter. Which is why I sent a man to that merchant last night.”

William turned toward the older of the two strangers. “Mr. Hail.”

The man opened his case.

“The merchant signed a sworn statement this morning,” he said, “identifying Mr. Finch and Mr. Charles Harrington.”

Finch went gray.

Charles did not. “Statements can be purchased.”

“So can silence,” Emily said. “Though apparently not forever.”

Charles’s eyes cut toward her.

William opened another ledger. “The bank drafts lead to an account in London. Controlled by you. The forged schoolroom expenses were added later — to make Miss Carter seem responsible, once she began asking questions.”

Lady Beatrice watched Charles with open disgust. Her father looked considerably less interested in marriage settlements than he had been upon arriving.

Charles’s composure finally cracked. “You would destroy your own family — for a governess?”

“No.” William’s voice remained quiet. “You endangered my tenants. You stole from my estate. You forged an innocent woman’s name. You attempted to purchase land through deception.” He looked toward the investigators. “Take whatever statements you require. Finch is dismissed immediately. Charles will have no further access to Blackwood funds or property.”

Charles laughed — a bitter, scraping sound. “And when Harberry withdraws, when your creditors appear — will Miss Carter pay them with her virtue?”

William moved one step forward. Emily had never seen anger become so still.

“You will never speak of her that way again.”

“There it is.” Charles smiled. “Choose her, then. Let everyone hear it.”

William looked around the room. Servants lined the walls. Lucy stood beside Mrs. Grant. Lady Beatrice watched him calmly. The Marquis waited.

Emily’s heartbeat sounded painfully loud.

William faced Lady Beatrice first.

“I cannot accept your father’s proposed settlement.” Her mother inhaled sharply. “Blackwood’s debts are mine to repair. I will not marry you as a financial instrument.”

Lady Beatrice studied him. Then she gave the smallest nod.

“Thank God. I had no desire to become one.”

A startled laugh escaped Emily before she could stop it. Beatrice glanced at her — almost smiling.

William turned to the household.

“Miss Carter’s reputation has been damaged because she discovered what men with greater authority failed — or refused — to see.” His gaze settled on Charles, not her. “Any disgrace belongs here.”

No declaration of love followed. No claim upon Emily. Somehow, that mattered more.

Charles and Finch were escorted away to await formal questioning. The room emptied slowly, until only Emily and William remained before the dying fire.

She reached into her pocket.

“There is something else.”

William saw the folded paper. He closed his eyes briefly.

“Another resignation.”

“Yes.” She handed it to him. His fingers touched hers. Neither moved for a breath. Then he took it.

Emily looked at the fireplace. “You know what happened to the first one?”

“I remember.”

“Are you going to tear this one, too?”

William unfolded the letter. His eyes moved over her handwriting. Then, with painful care, he folded it again — along the same creases.

“No.”

Emily’s throat tightened. “Why not?”

“Because the first time, I thought needing you gave me the right to stop you.” His thumb rested over her name. “It doesn’t.”

“And now?”

“Now I know exactly what losing you will cost me.” The fire gave one soft crack. “But if I ask you to stay while you are still employed in my house — while gossip is calling you my mistress, while Blackwood’s future hangs over every answer you might give me — how could either of us know whether your yes was free?”

Emily’s eyes burned. “So you are letting me go.”

His breath left slowly. “I am respecting your decision.”

“That sounds much nobler.”

“It feels considerably worse.”

She laughed through the ache in her throat. William stepped closer — then stopped before touching her.

“Your position here ends because you chose it. Your reference will contain the truth. Your wages will be paid exactly as owed. Nothing more will be offered — unless you ask.” He paused. “And the school is still your dream. Not mine to purchase for you.”

She had not understood, until then, how deeply he had listened.

“Thank you,” Emily said.

The following morning, the household gathered in the entrance hall. Her trunk waited beside the doors. Lucy cried without dignity and made Emily promise to write every week. Mrs. Grant embraced her. Even Lady Beatrice shook her hand, and murmured:

“For what it is worth — I think he has been an idiot rather longer than you realize.”

William stood at the foot of the staircase, holding Emily’s resignation intact.

No command came. No paper tore.

Emily crossed to him. “Goodbye, William.”

His eyes held hers. “Goodbye, Emily.”

She turned before courage became weakness, and walked through the open doors.

Cold morning air touched her face. She had almost reached the carriage when William called her name.

Emily.

She stopped. Behind her came one measured step. Then another. She turned.

William stood bareheaded beneath the stone portico, the resignation still in his hand. For one wild heartbeat, she thought he would ask her to stay.

Instead he said: “When you build your school — do not make it too difficult to find.”

Emily could not speak. She climbed into the carriage.

As Blackwood Hall disappeared beyond the winter trees, she pressed one gloved hand against her mouth and allowed herself to cry.

William remained on the steps long after the carriage vanished. Then Lucy appeared beside him and slipped her hand into his.

“Is she coming back?”

William looked down at the unbroken letter. “Only if she chooses to.”