Chapter 23
Asher had found himself surprised more than once that morning.
First, that he had missed his wife when he didn’t find her lying next to him in the bed.
Then, that he had set aside his usual routine to seek her out and how much his heart had jumped when he had found her standing there in the light of the library, the sunlight glinting off her hair as she bent over a book, her perfect profile dipped down.
And finally, just how deeply she was absorbed in what looked like a rather boring ledger.
“Are you hiding from me?” he asked as lightly as possible, trying to veil that he was rather hurt at the thought, especially when he had been seeking her out.
“Never,” she said, her lips curling up briefly, and he longed to lean down and kiss them until they were red, bruised from his touch as they had been last night, but he figured he’d better wait a beat and let her become accustomed to all that was so quickly changing between them.
Besides, he hadn’t even determined just what direction that was yet.
“You’ve created quite a mess for how early the hour is.”
She lifted her head, looking around the desk, blinking as though she hadn’t realized it — which she likely hadn’t.
At first, the messes she had left behind her had irked him, but now he had come to discover that it was her process, her way of trying to understand what was in front of her.
Not everyone had been raised by a duke who put order above nearly everything else.
“I was actually going to come find you.”
“You were?” he said, annoyed by that bit of hope flaring in his chest.
“I need your help,” she said, before her expression turned into a frown of annoyance. “I have discovered something, but I can’t quite determine just what I’m looking at. I wasn’t exactly well-schooled in arithmetic.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to help,” he said, even though, deep within, he wished she were seeking him out for much more than deciphering old ledgers.
“I discovered these account books by accident when I was looking for one of my puzzles. It was almost as though someone was trying to hide them, but I’m not sure what they were about.
They are labelled ‘parliamentary committee,’ and they include your father’s name, as well as Lord Norwood’s and Lord Eastclere’s. Does that not seem unusual?”
Asher shrugged. “All would be part of Parliament. They could have been appointed to the same committee.”
“All three men who are tied to the diamond? Who owned it, or who wanted it? That seems to be too coincidental to me.”
“Sometimes these things happen.”
“Sometimes,” she said. “But not often.” She bit her lip as she looked up at him. “I hate that I don’t understand, but…”
He saw then the vulnerability she was allowing, a vulnerability she so often hid, and it warmed his heart that she trusted him not only to see this side but also to ask him for help.
“Of course,” he said. “I’m happy to help. Why don’t we sit?”
Her desk being too small for them both to comfortably fit, he led her over to a small sitting area near the window, taking a seat next to her as she laid the book of accounts on the table before them.
He intentionally stayed close to her, his thigh pressed against hers, her arm just in front of his.
At her proximity and her fresh spring scent, he was nearly overwhelmed with the need to pick her up and carry her back up to his bedroom, but he reminded himself that he was a respectable duke and she was asking for his help with something she obviously deemed important, and he should too.
He had to get himself together.
“The names all have corresponding pages,” she was saying when he returned his focus to her words. He followed her finger down the page, wishing it were on his skin instead, before chastising himself.
Again.
“Here,” she said. “Lord Eastclere. Lord Norwood. Other men whose names I don’t recognize. And I assume the Duke of Ravenscar noted on the first page is your father.”
Asher nodded slowly. Since he had become the duke, he had not taken part in any special committees, not like his father always had.
“The Marquess of Eastclere noted would also be the current Lord Eastclere’s father. He passed at nearly the same time mine did.”
He took some time to review what lay before him as Evelyn patiently sat next to him. He had spent enough time staring at account books over the past few years to quickly discover that something was wrong.
“Most of the pages are consistent, until we reach the entries regarding Lord Norwood,” he murmured.
“His accounts are irregular, funds moving in ways designed to obscure their origin, but it seems whoever made these entries was aware of it and trying to determine what happened to funds that were unaccounted for.”
His jaw tightened as he tried to rein in his anger at the implication — this committee was clearly not what it said it was
“Can I see that?” he asked, and when she nodded, he picked it up and flipped through the first few pages.
He dug into his memories, trying to determine if he had heard anything about this particular committee.
His gaze fixed on the wall behind her head as he tried to remember his father saying anything about it, but he came up empty. He wondered if his brother had known. Probably. An old, familiar ache settled in his chest.
“What was your father’s involvement?”
“It looks like this was a private parliamentary committee,” he said. “It appears that the committee was reviewing foreign trade irregularities. Did something go wrong?”
“What is a private parliamentary committee?”
“Something that is quiet. Selective. Politically sensitive,” he said.
“The committee would likely have existed to investigate precisely something like this — financial irregularities regarding one of their own. From what I can tell, this looks less like routine commerce and more like someone hiding illicit dealings.”
“So, the names in the ledger… these weren’t people on the committee,” she said, understanding dawning.
“No,” he said, coming to the same conclusion. “These were people they were investigating.”
“Your father doesn’t have any entries, which means he was one of those investigating, while Norwood was one of those under scrutiny.”
“You think Norwood could have done something untoward?” Asher asked, staring at her as a feeling of unease filled his stomach.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. Most certainly not, knowing who he selected as his wife,” she said with a shiver.
“But this… this could be treason.”
Evelyn stared at him, her gaze unreadable as she placed her hand over his.
“Asher,” she said slowly, deliberately, “what happened to your father?”
Asher took a shaky breath. It wasn’t as though this wasn’t public knowledge, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed talking about it.
The air in the room shifted, and Asher waited a minute to answer her, appreciating that she didn’t push or try to fill the silence, but rather waited patiently.
He looked away, his hands flipping the pages of the ledger, even though he wasn’t actually looking at them.
The silence stretched, heavy but respectful, until he finally spoke, the familiar waves of pain, anger, and grief streaking through him.
“My father died in a riding accident,” he said, proud of himself for reining in his emotions and speaking in such a controlled manner.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand. “A sudden loss like that must have been extremely difficult.”
“It was,” he said, his tone monotonous as he still looked before him instead of at her. “It was here in London. He went riding by himself and never came home. No one saw it. But when he was found, his neck was broken. They said it must have been an accident.”
Must have been. But no one could know for certain.
He realized it was likely the first time he had shared something so deeply personal with her — or with anyone, for that matter. Suddenly, he had entrusted her with something that no one else held, and he had no idea just how to feel about it.
She had shifted closer to him without him even realizing it.
“And your brother?” she said in a voice that was steady, sure, although her eyes held space for his emotion.
“He was in a tavern fight,” he said bitterly. “Died when someone brought out a weapon. He never should have been there. He wasn’t the type of man. He—”
He ran his hand over his face, unable to say the rest of it.
“It’s all right,” she said, soothing him. “There was nothing you could do.”
How wrong she was. She needed to know, to understand that he was not the upright, respectful man she thought he was. That there was a reason he pushed away the man he’d used to be, that any feelings she held for him were misguided.
“It was my fault,” he said. He had come this far.
Might as well tell the full truth. “He came to the tavern for me. I had too much to drink, and someone came to the house to tell them I needed help. I don’t know the particulars.
I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember them, but there was a misunderstanding and he— then I—”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her hands coming to his cheeks, and in them, he found solace that he had never known before. “It never should have happened, Asher, but you must stop blaming yourself. You didn’t kill him. You don’t know the full story of what happened.”
“I know enough,” he said bitterly.
“That’s why you stick to such rigid order now,” she said, understanding dawning in her eyes. “You are trying to prevent anything from going wrong again.”
“Of course,” he said with a nod.
“Unfortunately, that’s not how life works,” she said with a small, rueful smile. “Things happen that are out of our control. All we can do is try to put the pieces together as best we can.”
“Do you think any of this — my father’s death, my brother’s death, the committee, the diamond theft — do you think it’s connected?”
Part of him clung to that, wanting to think that, perhaps, there was more to it all, that it wasn’t all some odd twist of fate that the people connected to him ended up in terrible circumstances.
“I cannot say for sure — at least, not yet — but I also don’t think that it is all unconnected,” she said. “I think we need to learn more about this committee and the Earl of Norwood.”
“How?”
“Eastclere was obviously involved,” she said. “We could start by asking him.”
“Do you think that is wise?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming earlier. But perhaps we went about it the wrong way. Eastclere is Verity’s cousin. She might have better luck speaking to Eastclere on our behalf.”
“That could be helpful, as long as she doesn’t put herself in any danger,” Asher finally decided.
“Agreed, of course,” she said.
“I’ll spend the rest of the morning looking through anything else my father left behind,” Asher said.
“Then we can speak to Lady Verity or Eastclere and try to get to the bottom of this once and for all. What we do know is that someone stole the diamond, and someone is trying to make it look like it was our fault. The question is, are they two related mysteries, or has someone taken advantage of a situation?”
“Have we heard anything more from Pine?”
“Nothing except that he has tracked down the printer who provided the paper both notes were written on. Unfortunately, the paper was simple, sold in the store to a random customer. There is no trace to who might have bought it.”
“Which is not helpful. We know that multiple parties wanted this diamond,” she said. “How could a diamond possibly be involved with a parliamentary committee?”
“Just one more mystery,” he said, holding his hand out toward her. “But we will solve it together.”
“Together,” she agreed.
Which felt better than he would have ever thought possible.