Never Gamble Your Heart (The Secret Society of Governess Spies #2)

Chapter 18

G ood for her word, Cecelia appeared in the library at the exact strike of eight and handed Frankie a brass key. “I saw Uncle Jasper leave ten minutes ago. May I come with you?”

Frankie thought about it, but then shook her head. “I do not wish to involve you any further, Cecelia.”

“Fine. I did not think you would say yes anyway. Slip the key under my door when you are finished and I shall return it to its hiding place before Uncle Jasper comes home tomorrow.”

Frankie closed her fingers around the cool brass key in her palm and smiled at Cecelia. “Thank you.”

Frankie wasted no time hurrying down the corridor. She looked over both her shoulders, and when she was satisfied no servants were in view, she slid the key into the lock on Jasper’s study door, praying it was the correct key and the lock would not seize. Jasper would know for certain that it was she who tampered with it if he needed a reset key.

Her lungs burning with held breath, Frankie turned the key, and there was a click. When she twisted the knob, the door swung inward. A rush of triumph hit her at the same time as the scents of old books, leather, and the subtle hints of Jasper’s shaving cream. She quickly closed the door behind her and felt on the nearby stand for the matches. Once she had lit the lantern, she lifted it high so that its light scattered in shifting ovals across the spacious study.

Jasper’s study, although luxurious, was typically appointed. There was a mammoth wooden desk positioned underneath a window, the drapes partially closed to the onset of night; a pair of stiff horsehair chairs facing the desk; and a soft leather settee across the room. An unlit marble fireplace was nothing but a shadow in the wall; beyond it, bookshelves lined the entire western wall, and in the chill and gloom of the room, Frankie felt comforted by their presence. Everything, from the dark woods and crystal decanters to the spicy scents of cologne, said that this space was entered by only one, devilishly handsome man.

Frankie was almost certain that Jasper was uninvolved with the Dowry Thieves, so why were her fingers trembling?

Jasper would be at his hell the entire night, which meant she had hours to search the study at her leisure and clear Jasper’s name. Once she had, she would stay on as Cecelia’s governess until she had finished analyzing the grooms’ financials, or until the Dove asked her to go somewhere else.

Frankie shook off the strange melancholy that overtook her at the thought of leaving the Jones residence. She did not dare light any more lamps out of fear of alerting a passing servant, and since the single lantern would slow her search, she knew she had best begin. She lifted the flame and noted the time on the clock on Jasper’s mantel. She wanted to be out of his study long before dawn approached.

Jasper’s business ledger for Rockford’s was easy to find: it was sitting on top of his desk. Frankie ignored it and spent the first hour searching every possible location for a second ledger. She tested all the floorboards, quietly knocked on the walls, and pulled out and replaced every book on his shelves. By the time she’d finished, she was certain that if Jasper had a second ledger for Rockford’s, he did not keep it there.

Frankie set the burning lamp onto a side table and sank onto the settee with the ledger in her lap. She smoothed her palm over the embossed leather cover and slowly opened it, her heart thumping so loudly in her ears that she almost couldn’t hear. Inside, she discovered columns for goods and services and the corresponding amounts. Jasper’s handwriting was stark, the ink dark and bold against the page. The lack of flourishes gave away the fact that Jasper had taught himself how to write, the letters appearing almost identical to the typeset words in a book. Frankie could picture him struggling over a text, copying each letter exactly until he was fluent in reading and writing. The image of a young Jasper remaking himself through painstaking sacrifice made her chest swell. Jasper had truly defied the odds, and if anyone knew about probabilities, it was she. He never should have made it off the wharf. Yet he’d not only escaped a future of poverty, but he’d also built an empire that had forever altered the course of his life and his niece’s life. Frankie wondered if anyone in the ton understood how truly remarkable such a feat was.

Frankie scanned the goods and services and mentally noted the amounts. Everything appeared to be proper and in order. There were deductions for new table linens, for beef, for candles and whale oil. Tidy rows of numbers recorded deposits from membership dues and bets. Frankie’s eyes bugged when she saw the amount of money Rockford’s collected each night at the gaming tables. Rockford’s was raking in far more cash than she ever would have dreamed, along with a disturbing number of assets that were neatly recorded with estimated values. Jasper must’ve kept a small record book at Rockford’s and then transcribed the details into the master ledger at home. Unless… it was possible he memorized the transactions. Frankie had heard of people who had only to see something once and then were able to recall each and every detail. She would not be surprised if Jasper was one of them.

Everything seemed to be on the up-and-up when Frankie noticed that a particular number had appeared more than once: three hundred pounds exactly. It was an enormous sum that under normal circumstances she would have noticed straight away, but Jasper’s ledger was not lacking for eye-watering amounts. Frankie flipped back to the beginning of the ledger, searching for any time three hundred pounds was deducted from the accounts. The pattern quickly became obvious: on the first of every month Jasper Jones paid three hundred pounds, which was more than an army cornet made in an entire year, for “fish.”

Frankie may not be well versed in the costs associated with running a business, but she knew for an absolute fact that fish, even enough fish to feed an entire gaming hell of patrons, did not cost more money than most people made in a year.

She let the ledger fall to her lap and her eyes unfocused. The description was a fake; the money was clearly going toward something else. What could Jasper Jones be buying each month for such an extraordinary sum? Could it be a case of blackmail? Could he be involved with the Dowry Thieves after all?

The flame in the lamp wavered, as if it had been disturbed by a shift in the air, and that was the only warning Frankie had before she heard Jasper’s cold voice. “I see you found my key.”