Page 57 of The Allure Of Lord Devlin
Devlin was sick of this banter. Fencourt deserved to die, but not before he’d told Lord Liverpool what he knew about his father and his treachery. “Isn’t your arse about to catch fire? I’d make your choice and soon.” He ensured his pistol was cocked and ready to fire.
“Whatever choice I make, I’m probably going to die.” Devlin didn’t dissuade him from that thought, instead getting ready for him to take a dive over the side.
Fencourt said, “I’ll come with you.” That took him by surprise. “I’ll help you clear your father, but not for you. I’ll do it for Dharma. She wants to wed you and I want her to have a good life. That’s how much I love her—do you? Love her? Or is her fat wallet still the attraction?” Fencourt had descended the gangway as he spoke and it wasn’t just the burning anger within at his talk of loving Dharma, but more that he didn’t want Fencourt to escape, that saw his fist hit Fen-Longton’s face so hard he dropped unconscious on the dock.
“Good work. Now he’s not going anywhere,” said Tobin.
“Help me get him in the carriage. We go to Lord Liverpool’s residence now. I don’t care that we have to wake his lordship up. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
* * *
The men had arrived at Lord Liverpool’s residence early in the morning, and after a brief discussion, the Prime Minister requested an urgent meeting with the Prince Regent. By eleven in the morning, the group of men had assembled on Prinny’s doorstep.
Once admitted, Devlin and Lord Liverpool had a private word with Prinny before a formal committee of England’s current war cabinet was called to listen to the evidence against the dead Lord Longton.
Rich tapestries and gleaming chandeliers adorned the grand chamber in the Prince Regent’s London home, casting a golden hue on the gathered dignitaries. In the stateroom, The Prince Regent sat at the head of a long, polished table. To his right, Lord Liverpool, and to his left, Lord Devlin, waited anxiously.
The doors creaked open, and two stern-faced guards escorted the prisoner into the room. The atmosphere tensed as Lord Fencourt, the alleged traitor’s son, looked around. His eyes darted nervously, but his posture remained composed as he approached the center of the room.
Lord Liverpool spoke in a grave tone. “Lord Fencourt, you stand accused of conspiring with the enemy, your father, in betraying the trust of this nation. Do you deny these charges?”
Lord Fencourt took a deep breath, his gaze shifting between the Prime Minister and the Regent. “I knew my father was hiding something, but until a few days ago, I had no idea what it was. All he asked me to do was spy on Lord Devlin, and to let him know what his lordship was about. I am not the traitor you seek. It was my father, Lord Longton, who committed these heinous acts against our country ten years ago, and who framed the late Lord Devlin for his crimes.”
As the late Lord Devlin’s innocence was pronounced, a murmur swept through the room. The Regent leaned forward, his expression demanding an explanation.
“I have evidence, letters, and documents that have been translated from old Gaelic that can lead to only one conclusion about his father's guilt. Longton was the head of the war committee, and it was he who organized the theft and sale of the grain shipment to the French before the Battle of Waterloo,” Lord Devlin declared, producing a bundle of documents.
The Regent accepted the evidence, untying the ribbon holding the documents and scanning the contents with a furrowed brow. He passed them to Lord Liverpool, who also studied the documents, his stern expression slowly giving way to a mix of disbelief and realization.
“You know what these documents hold?” the Regent asked Fencourt.
“I do. Lord Devlin explained, and I can quite believe them to be true. My father confessed all to me the night he kidnapped Lord Devlin.”
“I hear you tried to help Lady Dharma rescue Lord Devlin,” Lord Liverpool’s voice boomed out. “A shame that you then undid that good work by abducting the lady. What shall we do about that? I was told someone from on board your ship shot the lady.”
“I did not shoot Lady Dharma. I would never have hurt her. I love her.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” the Regent exclaimed. “What are we to do with you?”
“If I may speak on Lord Fencourt’s behalf. By attending this hearing, he has helped me clear my father’s name.” Lord Devlin spoke, his voice filled with sincerity. “However, I cannot forgive the indecencies he perpetuated on Lady Dharma, a woman I hope to make my wife.” A hushed murmur grew through the crowd as he turned to face Fencourt. “While I would not care if you were hung by the neck until dead, I think Lady Dharma’s big heart would. She knows you helped save me. Therefore, on her behalf, I do not seek his death. Instead, I request that a sentence of transportation to the Colonies for life is his punishment.”
A lot of slapping the table and a round of vocal hear, hears sounded around the room.
The Prince Regent rose from his seat. “Lord Fencourt, you have brought forth crucial information to clear a man wrongly accused.” He turned to face Devlin. “Lord Devlin, I pronounce your father innocent of all rumors of treason. We will restore your family's good name and welcome you back to the House of Lords. We will sign over any of Lord Longton’s property not entailed to you. In addition, the money Lord Longton made from the sale of the grain will be paid as a fine to Lord Devlin’s family. The war cabinet will know how much it would have been worth and what that value is in today’s currency.”
Devlin could hardly breathe. All of that would go a long way to restoring his family’s finances. In addition, Dharma would know once and for all that he was not marrying her for her money.
The Regent’s words hung heavily in the air, a mixture of relief and sorrow coursing through the room. Lord Devlin, who had borne the weight of false accusations with stoic resilience, felt a surge of emotions at the unexpected turn of events.
“And I have listened to Lord Devlin's request for leniency where you are concerned, Lord Fencourt, or should I say Lord Longton, as your father is dead.” The Regent’s voice carried a note of somber authority. Lord Devlin, standing nearby, anxiously awaited the fate of the man who had inadvertently caused his family so much suffering.
The Regent paused, his gaze shifting between the accused and Lord Devlin before finally declaring, “I shall grant Lord Devlin’s request for leniency only because his family has been so grossly wronged. You will be taken on the first prison ship to the colonies where you shall serve ten years as a prisoner of His Majesty, the length of time the Devlin name has been under a cloud, and then you will be freed. However, you are never to step foot in England again. Your children can, but not you.”
A hushed tension settled over the room as Lord Fencourt absorbed the weight of the Regent’s decision. Lord Devlin, though grateful for the resolution, couldn’t shake the melancholy that clung to the proceedings. His gaze remained fixed on Lord Fencourt, a mixture of empathy and understanding in his eyes.
As the guards moved to escort Lord Fencourt away, the Prince Regent turned to Lord Devlin with a nod of approval. Devlin suspected this leniency might have been Lord Liverpool’s idea, but he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.
“Your family has been dealt a disservice for which the crown sincerely apologizes,” the Regent spoke to Lord Devlin. “Rest assured, justice will be served, and we shall clear the Devlin name of any suspicion. I recommend that your father be given posthumously the Order of the Garter for his service to the War Cabinet.”
