A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 126 - Hundred And Twenty Six

Carcel looked down at the papers. He looked up at Rowan, confused.

"My solicitor delivered it after you left for the city," Rowan explained, his jaw clenching tightly as he remembered the terrible moment he had first read the hidden clause. "I sent it to London by special rider. I asked them to look into it." 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Carcel’s dark eyebrows drew together in a tight, worried line. He reached out and picked up the thick parchment. He began to read.

Rowan watched his brother-in-law. He watched Carcel’s eyes scan the neat, slanted handwriting of the legal clerks. He watched Carcel read through the standard terms of the marriage settlement. Then, he watched Carcel pick up the railway contract.

The silence in the study stretched out for a long, uncomfortable minute. The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to grow louder and faster.

Suddenly, Carcel’s reading stopped. His eyes locked onto paragraph seven on the fourth page.

Rowan saw the exact moment Carcel found the hidden clause.

Carcel’s face completely changed. The calm, supportive brother vanished, replaced by a fierce, highly protective Duke. His dark eyes widened in absolute shock, and then narrowed into slits of pure, boiling outrage. His hands, gripping the edges of the thick parchment, tightened so hard that the paper crinkled loudly in his fists.

Carcel frowned deeply. The crease between his eyebrows was sharp and angry.

He looked up at Rowan, sheer disbelief written all over his face.

"What in daylight robbery is this?" Carcel asked. His voice was no longer low. It was loud, harsh, and filled with violent disgust. He threw the papers back down onto the desk as if they were covered in poison.

"One million pounds?" Carcel demanded, pointing an angry finger at the contract. "Forfeit of the lands? Tied directly to a marriage vow?"

Rowan simply nodded, his face a mask of cold stone.

"They really have guts threatening a Duke," Carcel snarled, shaking his head in absolute disbelief. The sheer audacity of the trap was staggering. In their world, It was a social and financial suicide. Yet, Farrington and Hawksley had done exactly that, wrapping the blackmail in a perfectly legal business document.

Carcel leaned forward, his anger making him restless. He looked intensely at Rowan.

"You cannot accept this, Rowan," Carcel said firmly, his voice filled with urgent advice. "This is extortion. It is coercion. You should take this matter directly to the House of Lords. You must present this to the courts and have the contract burned. No judge in England would allow a peer to be forced into a marriage under financial threat."

Rowan let out a long, weary sigh. He rubbed his tired eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He wished it were that simple. He wished he could just march into a courtroom and demand justice.

Rowan lowered his hand and looked at his brother-in-law.

"It would be in their favor," Rowan replied, his voice heavy with defeat.

Carcel blinked, stunned. "How? It is a clear trap."

"Because it looks entirely consensual," Rowan explained slowly, the bitter taste of his own failure coating his tongue. "I walked into the consortium office of my own free will. I negotiated the price. I read the main terms. And I signed my name in front of five reputable witnesses."

Rowan tapped his finger against the cursed signature at the bottom of the page.

"Hawksley is clever," Rowan continued, his tone dark and analytical. "He buried the marriage penalty deep inside the financial jargon. If I take this to the House of Lords, Lord Farrington will simply use his influence to sway the judges. They will look at the paper, see my signature, and declare that the Duke of Ford made a poor business bargain and is now trying to escape his honorable promise to marry Lady Celine."

Carcel stared at the paper. His anger slowly turned into a cold, hard realization. Rowan was right. The courts favored the written word, and Farrington had the political power to ensure the written word was upheld. If they fought it openly, Rowan would look like a dishonorable man breaking a promise, and he would still lose the fortune.

"So, what do we do?" Carcel asked, his voice dropping back to a serious murmur. "We cannot let them win. We cannot let that man become your father-in-law."

"We will not," Rowan stated.

A dangerous fire ignited in Rowan’s eyes. He sat up straighter in his chair.

"I cannot fight them in the open courts," Rowan said, his voice turning into a smooth, deadly promise. "So, I have to hit them where it hurts the most."

He placed his hand flat over the two contracts.

"My solicitor found one small window of hope," Rowan explained. "The contract contains a standard clause regarding good faith. If I can prove that the Farrington family committed a significant deception, a fraud, or hid a severe scandal, the marriage can be annulled by the Crown, and the entire contract is voided."

Rowan looked directly into Carcel’s eyes.

"They are hiding something, Carcel," Rowan said with absolute certainty. "They are pushing this wedding too fast. Lady Celine is terrified of her own shadow. Lord Farrington is ruling her with an iron fist. There is a skeleton in their closet, and it is a large one."

Rowan leaned forward, his broad shoulders tense with determination.

"I will get engaged to her if I must," Rowan declared, though the thought of it turned his stomach. " but I will have to find what they are hiding. And when I do, I will destroy Lord Farrington’s precious name completely."

Carcel listened to the plan. He saw the cold, ruthless logic in it. It was a dangerous game, requiring patience and deception, but it was the only way to save the Hamilton estate and break the chains.

Carcel nodded his head slowly. The fierce, protective loyalty of a brother returned to his face.

"Very well then," Carcel agreed. His voice was firm and resolute. He reached out and placed his hand over Rowan’s hand, which was resting on the contracts. It was a silent vow of unbreakable support. "We will play their game. Vance and I will be with you every step of the way. We will tear the Farrington history apart brick by brick until we find their secret."

Rowan felt a massive, heavy burden lift slightly from his shoulders. He was not alone in the dark anymore. He had his family. He had his brother.

Rowan smiled. It was a small, genuine smile of deep gratitude.

"Thank you, brother," Rowan spoke quietly, squeezing Carcel’s hand before letting go.

Carcel sat back in his chair. He reached for his glass of brandy and took another sip. The main business of the contract was settled, but his sharp mind was already moving to the next piece of the puzzle.

Carcel lowered his glass. A thoughtful, slightly hesitant look crossed his face. He remembered one last piece of information from his long meeting in the dirty, crowded streets of London.

"Vance also found something interesting," Carcel spoke slowly, his tone shifting from angry to deeply curious.

Rowan leaned forward again. Any information Vance found was valuable. If it related to Hawksley or Farrington, it could be the key they were looking for.

"Really?" Rowan asked, his eyes alert and focused. "I would like to hear about it. What did he find?"

Carcel looked at his brother-in-law. He watched Rowan’s eager, serious expression. He knew Rowan was expecting a tale of financial ruin or a hidden mistresses belonging to the Earl.

But it was none of those things.

Carcel set his crystal glass down carefully on the polished oak desk. He folded his hands together.

"It has nothing to do with the marriage contract," Carcel spoke quietly, choosing his words with great care. "But it has something to do with your matchmaker."