My Sister Was Marrying A Perfect Gentleman — Until I Heard What He Whispered In The Parlor

Part 2

The absolute malice of Dan’s plotted betrayal hung in the stifling air of the library like a physical weight.

Megan stood frozen beside me, her hazel eyes wide with undisguised horror.

Her breathing was shallow and erratic.

To have survived the tyrannical cruelty of my late father, only to watch Heather walk blindly into the snare of a parasitic gambler, was a cruelty too vast to comprehend.

She whispered that he was going to destroy Heather, viewing her as nothing more than a ledger to clear his debts.

I turned to her, my storm-gray eyes flashing with a dangerous, predatory light.

I swore he would do no such thing.

My father might have been a tyrant, but he had taught me one valuable lesson.

Never strike a serpent unless you plan to sever its head.

I reached out, gently but firmly gripping her shoulders to anchor her in the turbulent storm of our shared realization.

I told her she had to listen to me carefully.

Heather was blinded by a romanticized illusion of the perfect gentleman.

If I marched downstairs and challenged Dan based solely on a conversation overheard through a floorboard, he would deny it all.

He would play the victim.

He would tell Heather that I was a jealous, cynical brother trying to ruin her happiness, and she would undoubtedly believe him.

Megan asked me what we were supposed to do, drawing strength from my immovable presence.

I stated grimly that we were going to gather the ammunition to sink him.

Dan had mentioned a man named Craig and a syndicate.

I told her that tomorrow, I would descend into the underbelly of this city and find this Craig.

I planned to buy Dan’s debt, and with it, I would buy his total ruin.

Megan’s brow furrowed in fierce determination.

The frightened governess of five years ago was entirely gone.

In her place stood a woman who had navigated the treacherous waters of high society and survived.

She vowed to handle matters at the manor.

Dan was dining with us again tomorrow evening.

She promised to keep him occupied, to smile, to pour his wine, and to ensure he suspected absolutely nothing.

I protested immediately, my protective instincts surging at the thought of her being near him.

If he truly knew who she was, he might try to force her hand early.

Megan lifted her chin with a defiant grace, challenging him to try.

She reminded me she was no longer a penniless orphan he could intimidate.

She begged me to let her do this for Heather, and for us.

The words hung in the air, a tacit acknowledgment of the bond that had spectacularly resurrected between us.

I traced the line of her jaw, my thumb brushing against her lower lip, and made her promise to be careful.

The following morning broke with a dreary London drizzle, masking the city in a cloak of gray fog.

I stripped off my tailored morning coat, dressed in the rough tweed of a dockworker, and vanished into the labyrinthine streets of the East End.

Through a network of informants, I tracked Craig to a subterranean betting parlor near the river.

I dropped a heavy velvet pouch of gold sovereigns onto his table, demanding the ledgers and every promissory note Dan had signed.

When he hesitated, I threatened to fund a police raid that would see him rotting in prison by midnight.

He hastily handed over the leather-bound ledger.

I had the ledgers in my hand, but would my sister ever forgive me for destroying her wedding day?