Page 61 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but one look at the man next to him prevented her from doing just that. She loved him—loved him more than she could ever explain, and while she was relieved that he would now be safe, it was not enough.
They would never be together—not truly. Though he was now safe, he was still not free to return her love.
Still, despite the pain this caused, she did not get out of the bed. Instead, she pressed her head against his shoulder and allowed sleep to take her—allowed dreams to feel like reality—just once.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, at odds with the grim task that lay ahead. Catherine dressed with trembling hands, her stomach a knot of anxiety.
Edward was silent, though she could see through the cracks in his armor—could see that he too was anxious about this task ahead of them. When he turned to look at her, however, he was composed, and his voice was steady. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, squeezing his hand. The warmth of his skin against hers was comforting, grounding. “As I’ll ever be.”
They made their way to the drawing room, where Chief Inspector Maslow and two constables were already waiting. The inspector, a portly man with a bushy mustache, nodded grimly as they entered.
“Lord Wessex, Miss Winslow. I hope you understand the gravity of these accusations,” the inspector frowned beneath his bushy brows.
“We do, Inspector,” Edward replied, his voice steady and authoritative. “And we’re prepared to provide all the evidence necessary to see justice done.”
Silently, they took their positions: all of them hidden behind a decorative screen—the sound of carriage wheels on gravel announced Isabella’s arrival. Catherine’s heart raced, her palms growing damp with sweat.
Edward caught Catherine’s eye as they heard the footsteps entering his study.
“Samuel, darling,” Isabella said, her voice tense. “Where is Edward? What is the meaning of this?”
“His lordship is still in his bedchamber,” Samuel lied quickly. “I wanted to talk to you… alone.”
Isabella huffed audibly. “That is not clever. I told you already—you need to wait…”
“Isabella.” Samuel’s voice was sharp now, and they all heard Isabella’s intake of breath.
“Samuel, darling? What’s going on?”
There was a rustle of fabric as Samuel stepped forward, producing the packet of letters. His hands shook slightly as he held them out. “It’s over, Isabella. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” Isabella laughed nervously “Samuel, you’re not making any sense.”
“The plan, Isabella,” he pressed, his voice growing stronger. “The murders. All of it. I’m going to tell Lord Wessex everything.”
Isabella’s face drained of color, her composure cracking like fine porcelain. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re as guilty as I am!”
“Perhaps,” Samuel agreed, a note of resignation in his voice. “But I can’t live with this guilt any longer. We killed his parents, Isabella. And now you want to kill Emily too? It’s too much. I won’t be party to more bloodshed.”
“Oh, hush you fool! Keep your voice down.” Isabella hissed, glancing around nervously. Her mask of civility was slipping, revealing the calculating creature beneath. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I think not,” Edward spoke suddenly, moving out from behind the screen. Isabella laughed falsely.
“Edward, darling. I… I don’t know what he is talking about, he’s gone mad…”
Edward stood slowly, his eyes blazing with cold fury. “Has he, Isabella? Then perhaps you’d care to explain these.”
He held up one of the letters, and Isabella’s composure shattered completely. Her eyes widened in horror, her mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “Where did you get that?” she finally managed, her voice a strangled whisper. Then she turned, facing Samuel—her entire body visibly trembling. “Samuel, you treacherous bastard!”
“It’s over, Isabella,” Edward said quietly. “Inspector, I believe you have what you need.”
Chief Inspector Maslow stepped out from behind the screen, flanked by his constables. “Indeed I do, Lord Wessex. Lady Isabella Fairfax, you are under arrest for the murdersof Lord and Lady Wessex, and conspiracy to commit further murders.”
Isabella’s screams of outrage echoed through the manor as the constables led her away, her perfectly coiffed hair coming undone, her silk dress rumpled as she struggled against their grip. “You can’t do this to me! Do you know who I am? Edward! Edward, tell them this is all a mistake!”
But Edward remained impassive, watching with cold eyes as the woman he had almost married was dragged from the room. In the aftermath, a heavy silence fell over the drawing room, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
