Lady Theodosia Carmichael raised her lorgnette, peering at Trent as if he were a particularly unpleasant insect. "Well," she declared, her voice carrying to every corner of the room. "It seems the girl has a spine of iron and a memory like the Domesday Book. You picked the wrong opponent, Mr. Trent."
The inquiry collapsed into a rout. Trent was exposed as a malicious liar, his reputation shattered. The magistrate, eager to distance himself from the debacle, dismissed the case with profound apologies to Miss Bellamy. Arabella Sinclair, her face flaming with humiliation, slipped out of the room.
Lady Honora sat frozen, her expression a mixture of hatred and shock. Prudence had not only survived, she had triumphed. As she stepped down, her eyes met Gideon's across the crowded room. He gave her a single, affirming nod.
Together. The vindication was complete, but the war was not yet won. The auction for Sorrel Down was still scheduled for the following week. Trent, though disgraced, was still an eligible bidder due to the debts he held.
His desire for the land was now secondary to his desire to see Gideon Devereux fail. He would drive the price up out of pure spite. Prudence returned to Kestrel Chase a local hero. Mrs. Vickers met her at the door with a cup of hot, sweet tea.
The staff, who had once viewed her with suspicion, now greeted her with smiles. She had faced down the county's bullies and won, but her victory felt hollow. She knew the state of Gideon's finances. She knew the auction would push him to the very brink, perhaps beyond it.
He was doing it to secure the land, but also to defend her family's honor, an honor her own aunt was happy to sell to the highest bidder. The thought was intolerable. She retreated to the muniment room, her sanctuary. She needed to work.
As she was filing the newly authenticated documents, her hand brushed against a small locked deed box labeled with her own mother's name, Eleanor Bellamy. It had been sent over from Bramblehurst with some of her uncle's other personal effects. She had assumed it contained old letters or sentimental trifles. Honora had never mentioned it.
Curiosity piqued, she found a small key on her uncle's old key ring that fit the lock. Inside, she found not letters but a portfolio of share certificates and a statement from a London solicitor. It was a small inheritance left to her by her maternal grandmother, an investment in a fledgling shipping line that her uncle had managed on her behalf. According to the most recent statement, dated just after her uncle's death, the company had seen explosive growth.
The shares were now worth a small fortune, nearly 8,000 pounds. She stared at the number, her mind reeling. This was hers. All of it.
Her aunt had known. Of course she had known. She had been hiding Prudence's independence from her, keeping her impoverished and dependent. The cruelty of it, the sheer calculated greed, took her breath away.
But that feeling was quickly replaced by another. A sudden, brilliant, audacious idea. Eight thousand pounds. It was more than enough.