"I possess information material to the sale of Sorrel Down. I will be at the old footbridge over the river at dusk." She signed it simply, P. Bellamy. As the sun bled orange and purple across the sky, Prudence waited by the stone bridge.
Every rustle of leaves made her start. She was risking everything on the character of a man she did not know, a man she had met only once. She clutched the small carved wooden kestrel in her pocket, a trinket her father had made for her long ago. It was her only tangible link to a time when she had felt safe.
He arrived on foot, alone, appearing out of the twilight like a shadow. He did not waste time with greetings. "You have information." "I do," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
She pulled the folded codicil from her pocket and handed it to him. "I found this today. It is a codicil to my uncle's will." Gideon took the document and read it by the fading light.
His face was impassive, but she saw the quick, sharp intake of his breath. He read it twice, his brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, he looked up, his eyes searching her face in the gloom. "This is genuine?"
"The signature and seal are my uncle's. I have seen them a thousand times." "Why bring this to me? Why not your aunt?"
Here it was. The moment on which everything turned. "Because my aunt would not have brought it to you," Prudence said plainly. "She would have destroyed it."
"Mr. Trent's offer is more lucrative, and she requires the money immediately. But this document represents my uncle's legal and moral intention. I believe it should be honored." A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the river.
The Duke looked from the paper in his hand to the young woman before him. She stood straight and still, her gaze unwavering. She was not asking for a reward. She was not attempting a flirtation.
She was stating a fact and presenting evidence as if in a court of law. "You understand what this means for you?" he asked, his voice softer than she had heard it. "Your aunt will not be pleased." "I am aware," Prudence said.
"My situation in that house is no longer tenable, regardless." He folded the document carefully and placed it in his breast pocket. "What do you want, Miss Bellamy?" "Want?"
The question surprised her. "I want nothing. Only that the matter is settled correctly." Gideon stared at her.
In his world, no one did anything for nothing. Everyone wanted something. Money, position, influence, favor. This woman, with her ink-stained fingers and her quiet, unyielding integrity, was an anomaly.