Margaret arrived at the Consortium offices precisely at three o'clock, wearing a dove-gray dress that suggested both wealth and anxiety. The performance began the moment the clerk announced her.
"Lady Blackwood. What a pleasant surprise." Grimsby emerged from his office, all solicitude. "Is Lord Blackwood with you?"
"No. That's rather the point." Margaret twisted her hands together, the picture of a worried wife. "I need to speak with you privately, Mr. Grimsby. About the investment. About my concerns."
Grimsby's expression shifted to something that might have been satisfaction. "Of course. Please, come in. Would you like tea?"
"No, thank you. I won't take much of your time." Margaret followed him into the office, acutely aware that somewhere in this building, Edward and Robert were breaking several laws. "I'm worried my husband is being rash. He's desperate to prove himself capable of managing investments, but his judgment isn't always sound."
"Many husbands struggle with financial decisions," Grimsby said smoothly, closing the door. "It's fortunate he has a sensible wife to guide him."
"That's just it. He won't listen to me. He's convinced this railway venture is his chance to establish himself as more than just the man who married for money." Margaret met Grimsby's eyes. "I need to know if this investment is genuine. If I'm being overly cautious, or if my concerns are justified."
"What concerns specifically?"
"The timeline. The engineers I can't meet. The fact that my father is investing such a substantial sum based on documents I haven't been able to verify independently." She leaned forward. "Mr. Grimsby, I come from trade. My father built his fortune by being careful, by verifying every detail before committing funds. This feels rushed."
"I understand your caution, Lady Blackwood. But sometimes opportunities require swift action. If we delay, other investors will fill the positions we're offering your husband."
"Are there other investors? Real ones? Or is it just my father and Edward you're targeting?"
The words hung in the air. Grimsby's pleasant expression never wavered, but something cold flickered behind his eyes.
"Targeting is a harsh word."
"Is it? Because I've reviewed your prospectus thoroughly. The cost estimates don't match my father's experience with railway construction. The government approvals reference departments that don't exist. And your lead engineer, Mr. James Morrison, has no record with the Institute of Civil Engineers."
Grimsby stood slowly. "You've been investigating us."
"I've been protecting my family." Margaret rose as well, proud that her voice remained steady. "What I haven't determined yet is whether you're incompetent or criminal. So I'm giving you a chance to explain the discrepancies before I take my findings to my father and advise him to withdraw his investment."
"Your father has already committed—"
"Committed his intent. He hasn't transferred funds yet. And he won't, if I tell him this venture is fraudulent."
Grimsby's mask slipped entirely. The avuncular businessman disappeared, replaced by something much colder. "You should be careful with accusations, Lady Blackwood. Men have been sued for slander on less."
"Women can be sued too. But they have to be wrong first." Margaret moved toward the door, hoping Edward and Robert had found what they needed. "I'll be frank, Mr. Grimsby. If this investment is legitimate, prove it. Show me the real engineering reports. Introduce me to Mr. Morrison. Provide documentation that can be independently verified. If you can do that, I'll apologize for my suspicions and encourage my husband to invest."
"And if I can't?"
"Then I'll know you're defrauding my family, and I'll act accordingly."
"You're remarkably bold for a woman in a precarious position." Grimsby moved to block the door. "Has it occurred to you that confronting criminals—if that's what we are—might be dangerous?"
Margaret's heart hammered, but she kept her expression cool. "Has it occurred to you that I didn't come here alone? My husband and my cousin are in this building. If I don't emerge from this office in precisely five minutes, they'll come looking for me. Violently, if necessary."
It was a bluff. Edward and Robert were hopefully still searching the offices, unaware that Margaret's conversation had turned threatening. But Grimsby didn't know that.
"I see." Grimsby stepped aside. "You're quite right to be cautious, Lady Blackwood. Perhaps the timeline is too aggressive. Perhaps we should postpone the entire venture until everyone's concerns are addressed."
"Postpone or cancel?"
"Let's say postpone. Indefinitely."
Margaret understood. He was going to disappear. Take whatever money he'd already collected and vanish before anyone could investigate further. She'd successfully warned him off her family, but she'd also let the criminals escape.
Unless Edward and Robert had found evidence.
"That seems wise," she said carefully. "I'll inform my husband and father of the delay."
"You do that." Grimsby opened the door, his professional mask back in place. "Thank you for your candor, Lady Blackwood. It's rare to encounter such... thoroughness."
Margaret walked out with her head high, but her hands shook. She'd just confronted a criminal and potentially let him escape. Edward was going to be furious.
She found Edward and Robert in the hotel lobby an hour later, both looking disheveled and triumphant.
"We found it," Robert announced immediately. "The real records. Grimsby's been running this scheme for three years. At least a dozen investors defrauded. We have names, amounts, bank records where the money was transferred offshore."
"That's wonderful," Margaret said faintly. "But we have a problem."
She explained her confrontation with Grimsby, watching Edward's expression shift from pride to horror.
"You told him you were investigating? Margaret, he could have—" Edward cut himself off, clearly imagining scenarios he didn't want to articulate. "Never mind. You're safe. That's what matters. But now he knows we're onto him. He'll run."
"Will he?" Robert pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Because according to these records, he can't access the offshore accounts without his partner's signature. And his partner is currently in Birmingham, inspecting the fake railway routes."
"So Grimsby has to wait for his partner to return before he can flee with the money," Margaret said slowly.
"Exactly. Which gives us time to act." Robert's expression was grim. "We take this evidence to the authorities tonight. Get warrants issued. Catch them both before they can escape."
Edward looked at Margaret. "You were brilliant in there. Terrifying, but brilliant."
"I was improvising. You said we're good at improvising."
"We are. Though my heart may never recover from imagining you alone with a criminal."
"Our hearts will both recover after we've ensured Papa doesn't lose his fortune." Margaret took the papers from Robert. "Let's go to the authorities. Before Grimsby realizes we have evidence."
The magistrate they found was initially skeptical. A viscount, his wife, and an American businessman claiming to have discovered a massive fraud? It sounded like a fantastic story.
Until Robert laid out the evidence.
Bank records showing money transferred to false accounts. Forged engineering credentials. A list of previous victims who could corroborate the scheme. And most damningly, correspondence between Grimsby and his partner discussing exactly how to defraud investors without getting caught.
"Where did you get these documents?" the magistrate asked.
"From the Consortium offices," Robert said. "This afternoon."
"You broke in."
"We investigated. As potential investors, we felt entitled to verify the legitimacy of the venture."
"That's not how the law works, Mr. Thornton."
"Perhaps not. But everything we found is genuine. You can verify it independently." Robert leaned forward. "Sir, these men are planning to disappear by week's end. If you wait for proper procedure, they'll be gone with hundreds of thousands of pounds. Including a substantial investment from Mr. William Thornton, who I believe you know?"
The magistrate's expression shifted. "William Thornton? From the Northern Railway?"
"My uncle. Who will lose his entire liquid fortune if we don't act immediately."
That changed everything. William Thornton was respected, wealthy, and well-connected. The magistrate wasn't going to let someone of his stature be defrauded if it could be prevented.
"I'll issue warrants tonight. We'll raid the Consortium offices first thing tomorrow morning." The magistrate looked at Edward. "Lord Blackwood, I assume you'll want to be present?"
"To see criminals arrested? Absolutely."
"And you understand that obtaining this evidence illegally may make it inadmissible in court?"
"We'll find other evidence," Edward said confidently. "Once you search those offices properly, you'll find more than enough to convict them. What we've provided is merely a starting point."
The magistrate nodded slowly. "Very well. Six o'clock tomorrow morning. Meet me at the Consortium offices. And Lord Blackwood? This never happened. As far as anyone knows, we received an anonymous tip about fraudulent business practices."
"Of course. I was never here."
Outside, Robert let out a long breath. "That was closer than I'd like."
"Agreed." Edward took Margaret's hand. "Let's return to the hotel. I need to drink something strong and contemplate how you nearly gave me heart failure."
"I kept you informed of my plan."
"Your plan didn't include confronting Grimsby directly. Your plan involved polite questions and strategic delays."
"Plans change. I adapted."
"You terrified me."
"But I was brilliant."
"Brilliantly terrifying." Edward pulled her close despite the public street. "Don't ever do that again."
"Do what? Investigate criminals or be brilliant?"
"Either. Both." He kissed her forehead. "My heart can't take it."
Back at the hotel, Robert excused himself to send a telegram to his mother, leaving Margaret and Edward alone.
"We should tell Papa," Margaret said. "Before he hears it from someone else."
"Agreed. Though I suspect he'll be embarrassed. Having his daughter and son-in-law save him from a confidence scheme."
"Better embarrassed than bankrupt." Margaret poured herself wine, her hands still trembling slightly from the day's events. "Do you think the magistrate will really arrest them?"
"He will. Your father's name carries weight. And the evidence is solid, even if obtaining it was questionable." Edward took the wine glass from her, setting it aside. "Come here."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine while shaking. It's allowed."
Edward pulled her into his arms anyway. "You confronted a criminal alone. You're allowed to admit it was frightening."
Margaret let herself lean into his warmth. "It was terrifying. When he blocked the door, I thought—" She stopped, not wanting to articulate what she'd thought. "But I couldn't let him defraud Papa. Couldn't let him take advantage of my family."
"I know. That's what makes you remarkable." Edward's hand stroked her back. "Though I'm instituting a new rule. No more confronting criminals without backup."
"That seems reasonable."
"Good. Because if you ever scare me like that again, I'll—" He paused. "Actually, I don't know what I'll do. Lock you in our chambers? Follow you everywhere? Develop a very inconvenient overprotective streak?"
"All of those sound terrible."
"Then don't scare me."
"I'll try." Margaret pulled back to look at him. "Though I can't promise. Situations arise."
"Situations should arise less frequently."
"We'll work on that."
They stood holding each other as the London evening darkened outside. Tomorrow they would watch criminals be arrested. They would tell her father how close he'd come to disaster. They would deal with the aftermath.
But tonight, they were safe. Together.
And Margaret realized, quite suddenly, that she trusted this. Trusted him. Trusted them.
The fear that had plagued her for weeks, the certainty that this happiness couldn't last, had quieted. Not disappeared—she wasn't naive enough to think fear vanished completely—but it had become manageable. Background noise rather than constant alarm.
"Edward?"
"Mm?"
"I think I might be ready. To say it."
He went very still. "Say what?"
"You know what."
"I do. But I want to hear it. If you're ready."
Margaret took a breath. The words should have been difficult. Three months ago, they would have been impossible. But now, after everything they'd survived and built and become, they felt inevitable.
"I love you," she said. Simple. Honest. Terrifying and wonderful in equal measure. "I'm not certain when it happened. Probably sometime between you running into a burning building and teaching me vingt-et-un. But I love you, Edward. Completely. Probably foolishly. But genuinely."
Edward's smile was incandescent. "Say it again."
"I love you."
"Once more."
"I love you. Though if you make me repeat it a fourth time, I'm taking it back."
He laughed and kissed her thoroughly. "I love you too. Have loved you. Will continue loving you. Even when you're being terrifying and confronting criminals and giving me premature gray hair."
"You don't have gray hair."
"I will after today. Multiple strands. All your fault."
"Blame me for the gray hair, then."
"I will. Proudly. I'll tell everyone my wife gave me gray hair through being remarkable."
Margaret kissed him again, pouring into it everything she felt. The love and trust and partnership and hope. All of it, finally, without reservation.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Edward's expression was soft.
"We should celebrate," he said.
"We have criminals to arrest tomorrow. Early."
"Then we'll celebrate efficiently." His hands were already working on her buttons. "Very important husbandly duty."
"You're obsessed."
"Completely. Is that a problem?"
"Not even slightly."
They made it to the bed eventually, though several pieces of furniture were involved along the way. And later, tangled together with the London night quiet outside, Margaret thought that perhaps the universe hadn't corrected for their happiness after all.
Perhaps they'd simply earned it.