I swallowed, a sudden sour realization drying my mouth. I had, in effect, been doing the same as Deele: making choices for Hester and Miss Grant, and my sister as well. Overriding their views with my own. I clasped my hands together, trying to quell the rush of understanding. But my past actions rose inexorably into wretched knowledge. Even Deele’s motivations were not so far from my own: he believed he was saving his sister, keeping her safe, just as I wanted to keep everyone safe. Of course, Deele’s idea of safety was misguided, heinous and brutal, bound up with his own selfish fear for his reputation. Even so, I could not deny the parallel. How many times had I thought I knew best? How many times did I not listen to my sister or Miss Grant? Their protests and ideas? All under my own belief that I was responsible for all. That I could keep everyone safe. Julia had said as much upon the roadside. Evan too. And I had not listened. I bowed my head, feeling a hot wash of shame.

Hester’s hoarse voice brought me back from my own agony. “I am thirty years old, Charles,” she said. “I must be allowed to navigate my own life. I will never give up Miss Grant. Not for you or for anyone else.”

At the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Ponsonby bring her fingertips together in a tiny, silent clap.

Deele looked around the room, teeth bared. His fury settled upon Alvanley, whose round, genial face held an implacability I had not seen before. “You give me no choice. All right, then, I will walk away. Forever.” He rounded on Hester. “You are no longer part of this family and you will have no money from me. We will see how long your unholy attachment survives poverty and debasement!”

“She will have money from me, Charles,” Evan said. “Hester and I are family, and I think it is you who are no longer part of it.”

Deele stared at him for a long, savage second. “You ruined this family, you know. Father always said you were the better man, and nothing I did was good enough. Well, I am not a convict riding around the countryside, robbing people.” He looked around the room at our new friends. “I hope you realize who you are colluding with.”

On that, he turned and stalked from the room.

“Wait,” I called, but I knew he would not do so. I ran after him, following him down the dim hallway and out to his carriage. His footman opened the coach door. “Wait, Lord Deele. Please!”

He turned and snarled, “What do you want?”

“Back in London, you received a man by the name of Mulholland. A big man with sandy hair and whiskers.”

“How do you know that?”

“Did he tell you that we were helping your sister? And that your brother was with her?”