Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

T he next morning, Edwin sat in his study, absently petting Ruby, his ever-faithful dog. The rhythmic motion of his hand through the fur offered him a small sense of calm amidst the storm that still brewed in his mind. His thoughts were far from settled; Hanna had left early that morning, her mood swings still a cause for concern.

In addition, he knew he had to tell her the truth regarding their marriage. It was kind of her to help him, but she deserved to know the truth—all of it.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Hanna stepped inside. Edwin looked up at her, immediately sensing the tension in her posture, the way her lips were pressed together into a thin line, the slight downturn of her eyebrows. Ruby perked up but remained at Edwin’s feet.

Edwin stood up, concern etched on his face. “Hanna,” he asked softly, “what is it? Did something happen?”

Hanna approached his desk slowly, her steps hesitant. There was something off about her demeanor, a weariness that hadn’t been there before. When she met his gaze, her expression was troubled, her eyes shadowed with something he couldn’t quite place.

“I—” She swallowed, then squared her shoulders, but her voice was tinged with sadness as she spoke. “I have some bad news, Edwin.”

He furrowed his brow, his heart sinking at her tone. “Bad news? What’s happened?”

Hanna let out a breath, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled a small bundle of letters from her reticule. Edwin’s eyes flickered down to them, his pulse quickening.

“I went to my father’s house,” she began, her voice subdued. “I decided to spy again, just as you asked me to. And… I found these.”

She held the letters out to him, but he hesitated before taking them, his gaze searching her face.

“Why do you look so… distressed?” he asked, his voice quiet but laden with concern. “Hanna, what did you find out?”

Hanna’s eyes darted away, a flash of guilt crossing her features before she answered. “Because I read them. And, Edwin… they prove that Benjamin was the one who threatened my father and misappropriated the funds.” Her words came out in a rush, as though saying them quickly might make them less painful.

The world seemed to shift beneath Edwin’s feet. His heart pounded as he took the letters from her, his hands trembling slightly. “Benjamin?” he whispered, his throat dry. He stared at her, his disbelief evident on his face. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry,” Hanna offered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but… it’s his handwriting on the pages. The letters were written by Benjamin.”

Edwin felt a cold dread seep into his bones as he opened the first letter. His brother’s familiar handwriting greeted him, elegant and unmistakable. As he began to read, his chest tightened painfully.

Ashford Manor, March 1812

Graham,

I will remind you once more that it was you who sought this partnership and I acquiesced despite my reservations. You agreed to follow my lead as part of our terms, and I will insist that we proceed with this agreement. You and I are bound together in this venture, whether we like it or not. If you dare make public what we have discussed, I will ruin you. We both know that I am more than capable of doing so.

Benjamin Banfield, the Duke of Ashford.

Edwin’s hands trembled as he lowered the letter, his mind racing with disbelief and mounting anger. This was Benjamin’s handwriting, yes. But the man he knew, the brother he had admired, would never write something like this. Would never have made such a threat. His chest tightened as he read the letter again, the words blurring through the haze of his shock.

“This can’t be true,” he muttered, staring at the page as though it might change if he just looked at it hard enough.

But there it was, Benjamin’s name at the bottom, the harsh words that implicated him in something far darker than Edwin had ever imagined.

Hanna watched him closely, her expression conflicted. “I didn’t want to believe it either,” she said softly, her voice wavering. “But… the evidence is there. My father kept these hidden for a reason.”

Edwin’s jaw clenched, the feeling of betrayal burning in his chest. “These letters… they’re damning. But how? Benjamin wasn’t—” He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “Wasn’t like this. He wouldn’t threaten a man in this way. He wouldn’t risk everything we built, everything our family stood for, just for a partnership gone wrong.”

Hanna’s eyes filled with sorrow. She stepped closer, reaching out as though to offer him some comfort, but then she hesitated, her hand falling back to her side. “I’m sorry, Edwin. I truly am. But you needed to see this.”

Edwin remained silent, his mind reeling from the revelations in the letter. The words twisted in his mind—Benjamin’s betrayal, the idea that he had mismanaged funds, and worse, that he had used their family’s name to do it.

He sat there, stunned by the letters in front of him. His brother’s handwriting—the unmistakable elegance of the script, the seal, everything. But something inside him rebelled against the very idea of Benjamin being capable of such treachery. He shook his head, trying to process it.

“I refuse to believe this,” he insisted, his voice tight with disbelief. He looked up at Hanna, searching her face for something that would make sense of it all. “There must be an explanation. Benjamin couldn’t have done this.”

Hanna stood stiffly in front of his desk, her arms crossed, avoiding his gaze. “It seems rather clear, Edwin,” she replied, her voice strained. “The letters speak for themselves. Benjamin was at fault. I don’t know what else you expect to fin?—”

“No,” Edwin interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “No, there has to be more. You need to go back to your father’s home. Search again. There must be something else there, something that explains this.” His voice grew more determined as he spoke, desperate for anything that could clear his brother’s name.

Hanna flinched at his words, a brief flicker of something passing over her face before she quickly masked it.

“I’m very sorry, but I’ve already risked so much to find these letters,” she said, her voice colder now. “It’s time you face reality, Edwin. Benjamin was guilty, and there isn’t anything more I can do.”

Edwin narrowed his eyes, his confusion deepening. “You promised to help me. You said you’d keep looking.”

“I did help,” Hanna snapped, her voice rising defensively. “I did exactly what I said I would. I found those letters, and now you must accept what they reveal. My father is innocent, Edwin. I’ve done enough.”

Her words, especially the way she declared her father’s innocence, set off warning bells in Edwin’s mind.

He rose from his chair and walked around his desk, his gaze fixed on her. “Why have you changed your mind so suddenly?” he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with suspicion. “You were willing to help me uncover the truth just days ago. Why stop now?”

Hanna pressed her lips together, her hands clenching at her sides. “I haven’t changed my mind,” she insisted. “I’ve simply done all that I can. You can’t expect me to keep risking everything for something that’s already been proven. You need to let this go.”

But Edwin wasn’t convinced. Something was off. There was a shift in her that he couldn’t quite place, a defensiveness that hadn’t been there before. She was different, more distant, more resolute in shutting down the investigation than he’d ever seen her. His stomach churned uneasily.

“I’m not stopping,” he declared firmly, his voice taking on a harder edge. “I’m going to hire investigators, men who can look into this further. I know Benjamin wasn’t guilty. And I’d still like your help, Hanna. This is important—to me, to our family.”

Hanna looked at him for a long moment, her eyes dark and unreadable. Finally, she exhaled, sounding frustrated. “I don’t know what else I could do,” she said, her voice cold. “Please, Edwin, don’t pressure me. I’ve done what I can.”

Edwin studied her closely, noticing every small detail—the tension in her shoulders, the way she avoided his gaze, the forced calm in her voice. This wasn’t the same woman who had eagerly agreed to help him before.

Something had changed.

“Hanna,” he asked slowly, watching her reaction carefully, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

Her eyes flickered, just for a moment, but enough for him to see it—a glint of fear, of hesitation. She quickly turned away, her movements abrupt, and busied herself by straightening a vase on a nearby table.

“I’ve told you everything you need to know,” she replied curtly, her back still turned to him. “Please, Edwin, just leave it.”

Edwin’s suspicion deepened. He could feel the chasm between them widening, but he didn’t know why. All he knew was that something wasn’t right.