“Justice?” I echoed. “Do you mean murder?”

“I do,” the doctor said soberly. “It became an obsession. A way to redeem himself for abandoning his daughter. He turned his back upon his patients and his practice, even his family to some degree, to follow Sanderson and discover the moment he could strike.” He looked across at Evan. “He found that moment at your duel, my lord.”

“How did he manage it?” Evan asked quietly.

“He offered to take the place of the doctor who had been engaged. Since attending a duel was illegal, the other doctor was happy to pass on the task to him. My father disguised himself—for Sanderson knew what he looked like—and waited. His chance came when you wounded Sanderson across the chest. My father used a stiletto knife to nick the man’s heart through the same superficial wound you had inflicted.”

Evan nodded. “Clever.”

Not the adjective I would have used: diabolical was more accurate.

The young doctor paused. “I wish I could say that my father had no intention of falsely incriminating you, my lord, but when he realized you were charged with murder, he did not step forward. In fact, he took it as a sign that his vengeance had been blessed by God.”

“A convenient belief,” I said. “Your father sentenced Lord Evan to half his life in a penal colony.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” the doctor said. “If it is any consolation, I believe my father lived in his own purgatory of guilt. It was his dying wish for me to tell you, or anyone who came on your behalf, the truth and to ask for your forgiveness.”

For once, I could not read Evan’s expression. He looked up at the ceiling, perhaps collecting his thoughts or maybe even praying. Finally, he drew a deep breath and exhaled as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “I hold no grudge against your father, Dr. Lawrence. It is clear to me that he acted out of great pain and love for his daughter. As for forgiveness, only God can forgive the sin of murder. I thank you for honoring your father’s dying wish and relieving me of the belief that I had killed Sanderson. I consider this terrible affair to be at an end.”

At an end? Surely not—we had a plan. I tried to catch Evan’s eye, but he would not look at me.

“But that is not the end of it, is it?” I said, as much to him as to the doctor. “Surely you will right this wrong, Dr. Lawrence. If you report your father’s confession to the courts, Lord Evan could be exonerated. He will be able to take his place once again in society.” I looked at Evan for support. “Is that not so, Lord Evan?”