Page 63 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

Once they had arrived at the London townhouse, the servants saw them all properly settled. Garrett joined his father, brother, nephew, and Jonas for a hearty dinner before retiring to his room. Thankfully he’d slept, and was well rested when they gathered the next morning to depart for the palace.

One of Prince Albert’s many secretaries and two guards greeted them. They were shown into what appeared to be a library-study and instructed to sit at the table and await the prince. The dark wood walls were covered with bookcases stuffed with hundreds of books; an ornate walnut desk sat in the corner. More than thirty minutes had passed, and Garrett was losing his patience. He exchanged glances with his father, who had already warned him to hold his quick temper in check.

When the prince made his entrance, they all stood and bowed. George Edward Anson, private secretary to Prince Albert, made the introductions.

The prince sat at the head of the table and they took their seats. “Carnstone, what is this concerning?”

“It is a matter of delicacy, Your Highness, concerning Brendan Whiddon, Marquess of Sutherhorne.”

“Indeed?”

“Your Highness,” his father continued, “we have come seeking justice for multiple incidents directed at my family, including the injury incurred by my younger son, Garrett. A near fatal gunshot wound.”

The prince gave him a cursory glance, taking in his sling, his expression neutral. His father started his narrative, beginning with Sabrina being sold to Sutherhorne after she had been married to Riordan. His father stuck to the facts and refrained from embellishment. “I have Baron Durning’s signed statement corroborating the kidnapping.” He slid the paper to Anson, who glanced at it before passing it on to the prince. “I also have a written statement from Riordan’s wife.”

The room was silent as the prince read the papers. Baron Durning had made outrageous demands for his testimonial, but Julian had made it plain that the Wollstonecrafts would not be blackmailed. The baron had been offered full payment of his outstanding debt, along with the agreement never to contact Sabrina again. But this would only take place if Sutherhorne was banished. Julian had suggested Durning leave England, promising there might be a small stipend if he agrees. The baron had grudgingly agreed to consider it.

Prince Albert looked up from the papers. “This is most disturbing, my lord.”

“It is, Your Highness. There is more.” His father explained about the shooting and what Jonas had overheard and observed.

Prince Albert turned his penetrating gaze to Jonas. “Is this true, young man?”

Jonas was visibly nervous. “It is true, Your Highness. It was a thin, older man with a white beard; I would know him anywhere.”

“Anson, summon Sutherhorne at once. His presence is required immediately. I will brook no excuse for his absence.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Anson departed, and the prince frowned, the first show of emotion. “What is it you wish from me, my lord?”

“As I said, we require justice for these multiple incidents. To avoid public humiliation and censure, I thought it prudent to keep this private and not involve the law. In the past, peers have been banished for similar or even lesser offences. It may be best for all concerned, Your Highness, if Sutherhorne is expelled.”

“That is for me to decide.” The prince stood and the rest of the table followed suit. “Remain here until the marquess arrives.” He departed.

“Will he inform the Queen of this?” Julian asked as they took their seats again.

“He may, after the fact; he is one of her closest advisors. Queen Victoria abhors this type of behavior in the peerage. We are saving the prince from embarrassment, since he and Sutherhorne are friends of a sort,” Oliver replied.

Servants entered, carrying trays of fresh fruit and a pot of tea. More than thirty minutes later, as they sipped their tea, Sutherhorne was shown into the room. The older man startled when he noticed the Wollstonecrafts sitting around the table.

“What is the meaning of this…”

The door opened, and the prince entered followed by his secretary. After the bows, the men sat.

“You will remain standing, Sutherhorne,” the prince stated in a flat tone as the marquess moved toward an empty chair.

Sutherhorne actually looked worried. Good.

“There is a law, not used since 1820, the Bill of Attainder. What it states, in essence, Sutherhorne, is that I have the authority to strip you of all lands, money, and title. Your son and his son will never be marquess. Complete and utter ruin. Public shaming. By God, I am tempted to recommend it to the Queen.” The prince frowned, clearly annoyed. “Charges have been laid before me. Shocking charges. I require the complete truth. Did you shoot Garrett Wollstonecraft?”

Sutherhorne cleared his throat. “Outrageous and insulting. I never—”

The prince lifted his hand to silence the marquess. “This young man, sitting next to the earl, is a witness. He heard what you said to your man. Described you perfectly. This is the man you observed in the woods, Mr. Eaton?”

“Yes, Prince—I mean, Your Highness. It is him,” Jonas answered, his tone firm and resolute.

Sutherhorne sputtered. “Your Highness, you would take the word of the village idiot over me? Your trusted friend and advisor—”