Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

E dwin sat in the armchair, his back rigid, his eyes fixed on the letters clutched in his trembling hand. The words, the accusations, burned into his mind.

They were Benjamin’s original letters, hidden by Hanna.

Why? Why had she hidden them?

His heart pounded in his chest, anger coiling inside him like a serpent ready to strike. Across from him, Peter Jenkins stood with an air of smug satisfaction, his arms crossed over his chest, while his brother, Thomas, lingered near the fireplace, a thin smile playing on his lips.

“You’re certain?” Edwin asked again, his voice low, rough with disbelief as he scanned the pages one more time.

Peter nodded confidently. “Absolutely. I saw her sneak out of your father-in-law’s study. After she snuck into her room, I went in and searched it from top to bottom. Found these letters stashed away. She probably thought no one would find them, but I did.”

Edwin’s grip on the letters tightened. He had trusted Hanna, relied on her, even begun to care for her—more than he had ever expected. And yet she had kept this from him.

It wasn’t just a simple lie. These were the letters that could have absolved his brother and damned the Earl of Worcester to life in prison. His breath came in shallow bursts as the weight of her betrayal pressed down on his chest.

“She knew,” Martin said from his seat across the room, his voice calm but edged with certainty. “She must have known from the beginning. You weren’t the only one who entered into this marriage for convenience, Edwin. You weren’t the only one with an agenda.”

Edwin shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. His thoughts were swirling, his anger warring with disbelief.

“No,” he muttered, more to himself than to the others. “She was afraid of her father. She didn’t do this willingly. She wouldn’t deceive me like this.”

He had to believe that.

“Wouldn’t she?” Peter interjected, stepping forward, his eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You think she’s innocent in all this? After everything we’ve uncovered?”

“She’s a pawn in Worcester’s game,” Edwin insisted, though his voice wavered slightly. “She’s terrified of him. She told me about the forged ledger. She helped me expose him.”

“She also lied to you,” Peter said, his voice growing colder. “She’s been hiding these letters from you this entire time. If she was truly on your side, why didn’t she hand them over the moment she found them?”

“Exactly,” Thomas added, stepping closer, his voice slick with condescension. “If she was so eager to bring down her father, why didn’t she share everything? Why let you think Benjamin might have been involved in all of this when she had the proof in her hands?”

Edwin’s head snapped up, his frustration mounting. He couldn’t deny the facts. Hanna had kept the original letters from him. But it still didn’t make sense. She had seemed genuinely frightened, desperate even, to escape her father’s grip. She had stood by his side, had given him valuable information. She had helped him when no one else would. But now… now there were these letters.

“I don’t believe she’s like him,” he said, though his words came out as more of a plea, as if he was trying to convince himself. “She wouldn’t have been so eager to help me if she were.”

“Maybe she was helping herself,” Martin murmured, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe she’s been playing both sides, trying to survive the only way she knows how.”

Thomas scoffed. “Don’t forget who her father is. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Edwin’s mind reeled. He didn’t want to believe it. He had started to care for Hanna—really care for her. They had shared moments, honest, vulnerable moments where she had seemed different, like she wanted to break free from the life her father had forced upon her.

But what if Martin’s right? What if she had her own motives from the start?

Peter’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “And that’s not everything we found.” He glanced at his brother before pulling a small ledger from his coat pocket. “This is your father-in-law’s original ledger—the one that shows just how deep in the muck he really is.”

Thomas let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Lord Worcester’s estate is a mess. He’s been funneling money into illegal ventures, using Benjamin to deceive half of London’s most influential peers. If this ledger got into the right hands…” he trailed off, the implication clear.

Edwin clenched his jaw as he stared at the ledger in Peter’s hands. The final nail in the Earl of Worcester’s coffin. With this, they had everything they needed to bring him down. And yet, the letters in Edwin’s hand felt heavier, more damning than any ledger could ever be. They were personal. They were from Benjamin.

Hanna had known.

Martin’s voice pulled him from his thoughts again. “You have to ask yourself, Edwin—how much did she know? Was she forced into this marriage, or did she go along with it because she had her own plans? You’ve been thinking she’s afraid of her father, but maybe she’s been working with him all along. The way she’s handled this whole situation… it doesn’t add up.”

Edwin’s mind raced. He thought back to the moments he’d shared with Hanna, the way she’d helped him, the way she’d looked at him. She had been vulnerable, afraid—hadn’t she? But now, doubt crept in.

Could it all have been an act? Could she have been manipulating him from the start?

“She helped me,” he argued, his voice tight, but it lacked conviction. “She told me about the forged ledger. She didn’t have to do that.”

“She’s her father’s daughter,” Thomas sneered. “You can’t trust her.”

Edwin clenched his fists, torn between anger and doubt. He wanted to believe Hanna had acted out of fear, that she had been caught between loyalty to her husband and fear of her father. But with the real letters in his hand, with Benjamin’s words damning her father, the trust he’d placed in her was crumbling.

“I need to speak to her,” he muttered, his face dark with frustration.

Just as he stood up, the door to the parlor creaked open. Hanna stood in the doorway, her face pale, her breathing ragged, as if she had been running. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on Edwin, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her expression.

In her hand, she held another letter.

The room fell silent, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. Edwin’s gaze locked onto hers, his fury barely contained beneath the surface. He could see the panic in her eyes, the unease in her posture.

But all he could think about was the letters in his hand—and the secret she had kept from him. He’d wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but seeing her before him made something shift inside him.

Anger… anger he’d pushed down moments before exploded within him. Her innocent, sweet face and her lovely, soft lips—he saw it all before him now, and red-hot rage bubbled in his gut.