Margaret woke at five o'clock to Edward already dressed, checking his pocket watch for the third time.
"You're nervous," she observed, sitting up.
"I'm ensuring we're not late. There's a difference." He adjusted his cravat. "Though yes, I'm also nervous. What if Grimsby fled overnight? What if the magistrate changed his mind?"
"Then we find another way. We always do." Margaret threw back the covers. "Help me with my corset. If we're arresting criminals before breakfast, I refuse to do it in a chemise."
By quarter to six, they stood outside the Consortium offices with Robert and the magistrate, who'd brought four constables and a clerk to document everything.
"Lord Blackwood, I must remind you that this is official police business," the magistrate said. "You're here as a witness only. No heroics."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Edward's expression was innocent in a way that made Margaret suspicious.
The magistrate produced a key—obtained, he explained, from a clerk who'd grown concerned about his employer's activities—and they entered quietly.
The offices were dark, silent. Too silent.
"They're not here," Robert whispered.
"The clerk said Grimsby often sleeps in his office when working late," the magistrate replied. "His chambers are on the third floor."
They climbed the stairs, Margaret's heart pounding with each step. What if Grimsby had fled? What if this entire operation was for nothing?
At the third-floor landing, light showed under a door. Voices—two men arguing in sharp whispers.
The magistrate gestured for silence, positioning the constables. Then he knocked sharply. "Police. Open immediately."
The voices stopped. Footsteps. The door cracked open, and Grimsby's face appeared, looking far less composed than yesterday. His cravat was askew, his jacket missing.
"What's the meaning of this? Do you know what time—" He stopped, seeing Edward and Margaret. "You."
"Us," Edward agreed pleasantly. "Surprise."
"Herbert Grimsby, I have a warrant for your arrest on charges of fraud, forgery, and conspiracy to commit theft." The magistrate pushed the door open fully. "You have the right to—"
Grimsby bolted.
He shoved past the magistrate, knocking the man into the constables, and ran for the back stairs. Edward reacted instantly, sprinting after him.
"Edward, no!" Margaret called, but he was already gone.
She heard crashes, shouting, more running footsteps. Then Robert was moving too, and Margaret found herself following despite every reasonable instinct screaming at her to stay put.
The back stairs led to a storage area, then to an alley behind the building. Edward had Grimsby cornered against a wall, both men breathing hard.
"Don't be foolish," Edward said. "There's nowhere to go."
Grimsby's hand went to his pocket, emerging with a knife. Not a gentleman's penknife, but something larger, more dangerous.
Margaret's breath caught.
"Stay back," Grimsby said. "I'll gut you before I let you ruin this."
"Put the knife down, Grimsby. This is finished." Edward's voice was remarkably calm for a man facing a blade. "Your partner's being arrested upstairs. Your accounts are frozen. You've lost."
"I haven't lost anything yet." Grimsby lunged.
Edward sidestepped, grabbing Grimsby's wrist and twisting. The knife clattered to the cobblestones. Margaret kicked it away before conscious thought registered the action.
By the time the constables arrived, Robert had Grimsby face-down on the ground, one arm twisted behind his back. Edward was nursing scraped knuckles and looking remarkably satisfied.
"I told you no heroics," the magistrate said, though he sounded more impressed than angry.
"That wasn't heroics. That was preventing a criminal from escaping." Edward flexed his injured hand. "Though I may have bruised something."
Margaret rounded on him. "You chased a man with a knife through a building. Into an alley. Without backup."
"I had backup. Robert was right behind me."
"I was twenty feet behind you," Robert corrected. "That doesn't count as backup."
"It counts as moral support."
"You're insane." Margaret grabbed his hand, examining the damage. "Scraped knuckles. Possibly a sprained thumb. You're lucky it's not worse."
"I'm lucky you kicked away that knife. Very quick thinking." Edward smiled at her. "We make an excellent team."
"We make a reckless team with poor survival instincts."
The magistrate cleared his throat. "If you're finished with the domestic dispute, we have another arrest to make upstairs. Mr. Walsh, Grimsby's partner, is considerably less athletic. I doubt he'll run."
He was correct. Walsh, a portly man in his fifties, surrendered immediately when confronted with the evidence. Within an hour, both men were in custody and the Consortium offices were being thoroughly searched by the constables.
"We'll need statements from all of you," the magistrate said. "Formal testimony about what you witnessed and how you came to suspect fraud."
"Of course." Edward glanced at the growing crowd of onlookers. "Though perhaps we could do this somewhere less public? I'd rather not have my name attached to this spectacle more than necessary."
The magistrate nodded. "My office at nine o'clock. That gives you time to clean up and compose yourselves. Lord Blackwood, you might want to see a doctor about that hand."
After the magistrate left, Robert clapped Edward on the shoulder. "That was either very brave or very stupid."
"Can't it be both?"
"Definitely both." Robert grinned. "Though I'm impressed. Didn't know you could fight."
"Eton boxing. Entirely useless until today."
Margaret said nothing, still processing the image of Edward facing down a knife-wielding criminal. Her hands were shaking again, worse than yesterday.
"Margaret?" Edward's voice was gentle. "Are you all right?"
"You could have been killed."
"But I wasn't. I'm fine. Look, not even bleeding much."
"That's not the point. You could have—" She stopped, unable to finish the sentence. "You promised no heroics."
"I didn't promise. The magistrate suggested it. I simply didn't argue."
"That's semantics."
"That's technically accurate." Edward pulled her close despite their public location. "I'm sorry I scared you. But I couldn't let him escape. Not after everything we'd done to catch him."
Margaret wanted to stay angry, wanted to lecture him about unnecessary risks. But standing in that alley, feeling his heart beat steadily against her cheek, she mostly just felt grateful he was alive and whole.
"Don't do it again," she said into his chest.
"I'll try. Though you realize you also did something reckless? Kicking away a knife?"
"That was practical. He might have retrieved it otherwise."
"So my chasing him was reckless, but your knife-kicking was practical?"
"Exactly. I'm glad we agree."
Edward laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Come on. Let's find somewhere to clean up before our nine o'clock appointment. And possibly eat something. Arresting criminals is exhausting work."
They found a café near the magistrate's office, quiet enough for conversation. Edward's hand was already swelling, and Margaret insisted on wrapping it with a handkerchief soaked in cold water.
"You're being very nurturing," Edward observed.
"I'm being practical. You can't give testimony if your hand swells shut and you can't hold a pen."
"Of course. Practical."
Robert returned from sending another telegram to his mother. "I've told her everything. She's going to inform Uncle William before he hears it through gossip. Better he learns about the fraud from family."
"How do you think he'll react?" Margaret asked.
"Embarrassed. Angry at himself for not seeing it. Grateful to us for stopping it." Robert sat down, accepting coffee from Edward. "Probably suspicious about how we obtained evidence so quickly. Uncle William isn't stupid. He'll know we broke some rules."
"Let him be suspicious. We saved him two hundred thousand pounds." Edward stirred sugar into his coffee one-handed. "That buys some latitude."
The magistrate's office at nine o'clock was cramped and overheated. They spent two hours giving testimony, describing their investigation, carefully editing out the illegal aspects of their evidence gathering.
The magistrate listened carefully, making notes. "This will go to trial, of course. You'll all be called as witnesses. The defense will try to discredit you—question your motives, your methods. Lord Blackwood, they may suggest you fabricated evidence out of business rivalry."
"There is no rivalry. I'd never met Grimsby before this week."
"Nevertheless, prepare for character attacks. The defense will use whatever tools they have." The magistrate closed his notebook. "That said, with the evidence we've seized this morning and the testimony from previous victims, conviction is nearly certain. You've done excellent work."
Outside, blinking in the late morning sunlight, Robert stretched. "Well. That's done. Now I suppose we wait for the trial?"
"You suppose correctly." Edward turned to Margaret. "We should visit your father. Tell him personally what happened before he hears a distorted version."
Margaret nodded, though her stomach churned at the prospect. Her father had built his fortune on shrewd judgment. Learning he'd nearly been defrauded would wound his pride deeply.
They found William Thornton at his London offices, an elegant building in the City. His secretary showed them in immediately, concern written across her face.
"Margaret. Edward. Robert." William stood from behind his massive desk. "I received your mother's telegram this morning, Robert. Quite alarming. Something about fraud and arrests? I assume there's been some mistake."
"No mistake, Uncle." Robert pulled out copies of the evidence they'd collected. "The Midlands Railway Development Consortium was a fraud. Grimsby and his partner have been arrested. They were planning to take your two hundred thousand pounds and disappear."
William's face went through several expressions—disbelief, anger, embarrassment—before settling on grim acceptance. He read through the documents in silence, his jaw tightening progressively.
"I was a fool," he said finally. "Seduced by promises of high returns and railway profits. The oldest con in the world, and I fell for it."
"You weren't the only one," Margaret said gently. "They'd defrauded a dozen other investors using the same tactics. They were professionals."
"That doesn't excuse my blindness." William looked at Edward. "I understand you and Margaret uncovered this? With Robert's help?"
"We did. Margaret was brilliant. Confronted Grimsby directly, forced him to reveal inconsistencies in his story."
William's expression shifted to something like pride mixed with concern. "You confronted a criminal? Margaret, that was dangerous."
"It was necessary. I couldn't let them steal from you, Papa."
"Nevertheless." William came around the desk, pulling Margaret into an unexpected embrace. "You saved me from devastating loss. Financial and reputational. I'm in your debt."
"You're not in our debt. You're family." Margaret returned the embrace, feeling the tremor in her father's hands. "Though perhaps in future, let us review investment opportunities before you commit funds?"
"Agreed. Emphatically agreed." William released her, turning to Edward. "And you, my boy. I hear you chased Grimsby through the building when he tried to escape?"
"I may have acted somewhat impulsively."
"That's one word for it. Bravely stupid might be another." William clapped Edward on the shoulder. "Thank you. For protecting Margaret during the investigation. For protecting my fortune. For being the son-in-law I hoped you'd become."
Edward looked genuinely moved. "Thank you, sir. That means more than you know."
"Yes, well. Don't let it go to your head." William returned to his desk, back to business. "Now then. About that railway investment I mentioned. The legitimate one. Obviously this fraud has made me cautious, but there are real opportunities in the Midlands. With proper due diligence. I'd still like to discuss partnership, if you're interested."
"Very interested. Though Margaret reviews all documents first."
"Naturally. I wouldn't have it any other way." William smiled at his daughter. "She clearly has better judgment than either of us."
They left an hour later with preliminary partnership documents and William's effusive gratitude. On the street, Edward hailed a cab.
"Back to the hotel?" Margaret asked.
"Back to the hotel. Where I intend to sleep for approximately twelve hours." Edward climbed in, pulling Margaret against his side. "After I celebrate my wife being extraordinary."
"Your hand is injured. You need rest."
"I have another perfectly functional hand."
"Edward."
"Margaret." He kissed her temple. "Stop being practical and let me appreciate you."
"I'm always practical."
"I know. It's one of your most attractive qualities." His good hand found hers, lacing their fingers together. "Along with your courage, your sharp wit, and your alarming willingness to kick knives away from criminals."
"Someone had to."
"Someone did. And I'm exceptionally grateful it was you."
Margaret leaned against him, exhaustion finally catching up. They'd stopped a fraud, protected her father, arrested criminals, and survived relatively unscathed. It had been, by any measure, an extraordinary few days.
"We're going home tomorrow," she said. "Back to Blackwood Manor. Back to normal life."
"Looking forward to normal. Though normal with you is still considerably more exciting than my previous life."
"That's because your previous life was boring."
"Agreed. Terrible. Dull. Much prefer this version."
"Even with the fraud investigation and knife-wielding criminals?"
"Especially with those. Keeps things interesting."
Margaret smiled against his chest. "Then I'm glad I can provide entertainment."
"You provide considerably more than entertainment." Edward's arm tightened around her. "You provide purpose. Partnership. Love. All the things I didn't know I needed until I had them."
"That's remarkably sentimental."
"I'm feeling sentimental. Nearly dying puts things in perspective."
"You weren't nearly dying. You dodged a knife once."
"I choose to remember it as more dramatic. Better story for future generations."
"What future generations?"
Edward paused. "Well. Hypothetically. If we decided to have them. Someday. Perhaps."
Margaret's heart jumped. They'd never discussed children. The topic had seemed too distant, too hypothetical when they were still learning to be married.
But now, hearing the tentative hope in Edward's voice, she realized she wanted them too. Someday.
"Hypothetically," she agreed. "If we decided. They would certainly have interesting stories to tell."
"The most interesting. Their parents were crime-fighting aristocrats."
"We're not crime-fighting aristocrats. We investigated one fraud."
"That's enough for legend. By the time I'm finished embellishing, we'll have stopped an international conspiracy."
Margaret laughed, and Edward joined her, and the cab rattled through London streets carrying them back to their hotel, their temporary home, their shared life.