“Since you plan to make a spectacle of yourself, Father, let me make one thing quite clear. Anyone who humiliates my wife in public must answer to me.” Stephen took her hand in his and the magnitude of what he’d done struck her. He’d abandoned pride and duty, forcing the marquess to accept her. She blinked back the tears, grateful for his interference.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I am escorting Lady Whitmore home.” He led her toward the door, lowering his voice. “Nigel has already left. We must go now.”

She did not look back at the ballroom but joined Stephen as they hurried toward the carriage. Within minutes, they were inside.

Seated across from one another, she watched him, wondering what to say. At last, she said, “Thank you for defending me tonight.”

He gave a nod, his attention focused outside. “I don’t know where Nigel has gone, but—”

Emily leaned forward and kissed him. She took him by surprise, and he did not react at first. But she needed him to understand how much it meant to her. A moment later, he took her face in his hands, his thumb grazing her temple. “That was far too short to be a kiss.”

Her pulse quickened as he drew closer. She could feel the hidden strength in his arms. Leaning in, he took her lips. Gently, he caressed her shoulders as his mouth captured hers. The carriage rumbled through the streets, and the rhythmic motion made it difficult to catch her breath. When at last he released her, her hands poised on his forearms.

“I’ll find him, Emily,” he swore.

“The children,” she reminded him. “We have to protect them.”

As the carriage moved closer to Nigel’s town house, Stephen’s apprehension heightened. If Nigel had somehow been involved in the deaths of Carstairs and Hollingford, he did not doubt the man would use the children as leverage.

“I meant to show you these earlier,” Emily said, reaching inside her bodice. He raised an eyebrow as she handed him several torn pages. As soon as he saw them, he knew what they were: the missing list of investors.

“Where did you get these?”

“Daniel hid them inside Royce’s fairytale book,” she said. “In the story of 'The Steadfast Tin Soldier.' I didn’t see them until I picked it up.”

Though it was difficult to see in the moonlight, the columns of numbers triggered a flood of memories. Visions unfolded, strange illuminations that made little sense. He recalled removing the pages with a blade, giving them to Hollingford for safekeeping.

“What is it?”

“I made this list. Months ago.” He’d recorded every ship that had not earned a profit in the past four years, along with the names of their investors. “They’re the missing pages from the ledger we found at your brother’s estate.”