Chapter 15 .
His voice softening, Joseph desperately entreats,
“We lost brother not long ago, in a fight for justice. I don’t want to lose you too. Mother would be devastated.”
Joseph’s sadness is unmistakable, pulling Jacob into the grief they both carry. He identifies with his brother’s fear. He doesn’t wish further pain on their mother.
But there are vulnerable women and children out there—stolen, trafficked, sold into servitude across the Atlantic.
And this threat? It isn’t contained. It can spread across Britain, infecting every county, every home.
He swore an oath, both as a member of the secret society—just as Joseph did—and as a peer of the realm. To protect. To fight injustice. Always.
And then, like a whisper in the wind, Therese’s words echo in his mind. Words of nobility. Of righteous paths. Of honor.
He embraces those words now.
No. He won’t stain his hands like he's expected to.
He’ll play by the rules of nobility.
He’ll fight fire with fire, within the bounds of the law.
Exhaling a shaky breath, Jacob lowers his voice, eyes narrowing.
“Can you write out the names of all his associates? Everyone connected to this filth?” he asks.
Joseph eyes him skeptically. “What do you intend to do, Jacob? I don’t like the look in your eyes.”
“Don’t worry, brother.” A smirk curves Jacob’s lips as he lifts his glass. “I wouldn’t do anything untoward.”
***
An hour later, they ride a hackney to Cavendish. A certain man awaits them.
The club buzzes with pre-nightfall activity. Dancers rehearse on stage, accompanied by a pianist playing Beethoven. Servants polish wood, arrange tables, light candles.
The scent of brandy, tobacco, and polish hangs heavy. Soon, the place will be flooded with patrons, pleasure-seekers, and whispers in the dark.
Jacob makes a mental note to check in on Bernard(John). Ensure he’s adjusting well.
Inside the club’s office, they are greeted by sharp, vibrant eyes—Thomas Kane.
Tall, lean, dressed impeccably. No trace of a lawman clings to his fashionable appearance.
“Good evening, Your Grace. Lord Wilson,” he bows, eyes scanning them carefully.
They nod in return and settle into the sofa across from him.
Sunlight filters in through half-draped windows. Golden shafts across lewd paintings and a book-laden shelf. The air smells of old smoke and leather.
“Mr. Thomas…”
“Just Thomas, Your Grace,” he says.
Jacob nods, rises, and walks to the decanter. Behind him, his brother and the runner exchange small talk.
But Jacob barely hears them. Since learning about the stolen women and children, he’s been tormented. He feels it, the weight of every stolen life.
He pours three drinks, the amber liquid calming his hands just enough. Returning to the group, he hands a glass to each man and sits.
“So, Thomas, we’ve invited you here because of a pressing issue. One that, if left unchecked, could devastate the country,” Jacob begins, eyes fixed
Thomas nods silently and sips, quietly.
Jacob recounts the entire encounter with Tim Allen at the docks. Joseph supplements with his own findings. Then, Jacob slides the list of names across the table.
Thomas scans it slowly, expression hardening.
“Some of these names are familiar, Your Grace,” he says at last. “They’re key players in the kidnapping ring we’ve been investigating these past five months.”
His voice is calm, but Jacob notes the flicker of pain in his eyes.
“Your expression makes me wonder, Thomas,” Jacob muses.
Thomas exhales, sets his glass down, and stands. He walks to the window.
“Six months ago, a peer—whose name I cannot disclose—came to me. He told me his illegitimate child had been abducted. She’d been hidden in an orphanage.”
Jacob and Joseph listen, still. None of this surprises them. Peers hiding their indiscretions was an open secret.
“He’d kept her there until he could gather the courage to introduce her to the ton. The workers took special care of her.”
Jacob frowns. “Why not keep her somewhere safer, with his position?”
“Because I advised him not to,” Thomas replies, voice grave.
Joseph stiffens. “And what right had you to suggest that? You must’ve known she wasn’t safe in a place like that.”
Thomas turns to them. His voice cracks.
“I’m her uncle. Brother to her late mother.”
Silence.
Jacob leans forward, eyes narrowing.
Thomas continues.
“He promised my sister everything. Then, when she became with child, he left her. Married someone noble. My sister died giving birth.”
He pauses, eyes shadowed. “I left the baby at the orphanage. I had nothing—no money, no home. But I told him everything. He promised to provide, to keep her safe. For five years, we kept it secret. But six months ago… she was taken.”
Grief rips through him. His body shakes. He turns away.
Jacob and Joseph sit quietly, giving him space.
Moments later, Thomas composes himself again, his tone sharpening.
“With this list of names, we finally have a thread. We’ll catch them. All of them.”
Jacob nods solemnly. “And your niece?”
“They’ll lead us to her. Just leave this to us, Your Grace. I swear—we’ll bring the whole ring down.”
Jacob clasps his shoulder. “You have my full support.”
After more discussion, Thomas Kane departs, fire in his eyes.
Joseph watches the door.
“Do you think he can handle it?”
Jacob looks up from the ledgers.
“There are forces that drive men to the edge, Joseph. And love, love for family, may be the strongest of them.”
He leans back, contemplative.
“Just as you begged me not to risk myself, Thomas would burn the world to find that child.”
Joseph exhales sharply and nods, falling into silence.
Jacob grins, teasing, “Now, tell me about your mistress, Gwenivere.”
***
Meanwhile…
A voice, venomous and familiar, hisses near Therese’s ear.
“If you don’t do what I tell you, doll, I’ll send you off to the plantations. I’ve got friends there. And it ain’t pretty.”
Terror grips her. She clutches the wrought iron bed frame, cold metal biting into her palms.
“Pl…please… You promised me. This… this isn’t part of your vows.” Her voice quivers.
A dark chuckle. A face, handsome once, now contorted with cruelty.
“Didn’t you know? All I said—lies. Every vow, a ruse.”
The words slam into her. Her breath stutters.
“No… you wouldn’t…”
He laughs. A hideous, echoing sound.
“This is why I brought you here, Therese. This was always the plan.”
Darkness crashes over her. Not just the absence of light, but the erasure of hope. Of self. Of everything known.