Inside his study, Lord Hawksley paced the length of the carpet. His expensive leather boots made a heavy, angry sound against the floorboards. His hands shook slightly as he poured himself a glass of brandy. He drank it in one fast swallow, but the strong alcohol did nothing to calm his racing heart.
He had seen her.
Delaney Kingsley. The woman he has been looking for.
Lord Hawksley set the empty glass down hard on his desk. He walked over to his heavy wooden chair and sat down. He grabbed a piece of thick, white parchment and pulled his inkwell closer. He picked up a sharp quill.
If the Duke of Hamilton woke up, and if Delaney told the Duke about the Oakridge case and her father's stolen money, Hawksley would hang. The Crown did not forgive treason, and the Duke of Ford had the power to reopen the twenty-year-old case.
