Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Three days later, Priscilla sat in her parlor as she worked on her books, satisfaction making her pen strokes light and quick.
Everything seemed to have come together.
After a few days of exclusive time with Wyatt, he’d left to take care of a few hours of business, promising to return quickly.
And while she missed him, she’d had her own tasks. She sat reviewing accounts and yields of her land. Overall, only minor adjustments needed be made to her holdings. She was so immersed, the two hours passed in a blink.
Her husband would be home soon and when Wyatt came back, making love would be even sweeter for the brief absence.
That thought made her smile and drop a blotch of ink on her page that marred her writing. She wiped the smidge away, rewriting the lines as she hummed, undeterred.
Nothing could spoil her mood today.
She’d married her hero. That only made her grin wider. London’s hero.
And better still, he’d allowed her to be herself. Supported her in her endeavors. What more could a woman ask for?
She kept working, her happy hum continuing as she worked.
But as she continued through her sums, she noted two of her columns did not add up. The funds from her various accounts did not match her assets total. Odd. She’d have to retally the columns to find out where the discrepancy was located.
She rarely had errors like this in her calculations. Not only did she like the work, she’d been well-trained.
She started again, working her way back through the last several months but a second tally yielded the same results. She rubbed her cheek trying to decide where the problem might be located.
A knock sounded at the door, pulling her from her thoughts as she looked up. “Yes?”
The door opened, the butler stepping inside. “A letter has arrived for you, my lady.”
She nodded, standing as the butler held out a tray with the missive. She took the sealed envelope, returning to her seat as the butler retreated once again.
She flipped the letter over, her breath catching as she noted her father’s seal. Eugene’s seal now.
She dropped the note, wondering if she opened it at all. Wyatt had claimed that he would manage Eugene. But this was not a personal meeting, just a written communication. What did he want?
Surely not to apologize?
Before she’d fully decided, she found herself reaching for the letter opener and slicing open the wax bond that held the page together.
Her fingers shook as she opened the page, her gaze scanning the contents as her heart rose up in her throat.
Of course it wasn’t an apology.
When had Eugene ever felt remorse for anything?
She dropped the note on the desk, reading it again as her gaze crinkled, attempting to understand.
Eugene asserted that she should return home. That Wyatt wasn’t the man he pretended to be.
For a moment, she’d assumed he’d meant the Bushy Hero business, a secret she’d known already. But it turned out, Eugene didn’t know about it or wasn’t sharing with her. Instead, Eugene claimed that Priscilla was not Wyatt’s first fiancée.
That, in fact, he’d been engaged before and that the relationship had ended because of Wyatt’s misdeeds.
Which, as far as secrets went, was not that great a one. But that begged the question. Why hadn’t he mentioned this to her? How could she not know that he’d almost married another?
And why, every time things seem to settle in nicely, did some other mystery jump out of Wyatt’s past?
* * *
Wyatt sat across from the solicitor attempting to understand his words. “What do you mean you don’t know where Mr. Crosby is? He was your partner, wasn’t he?”
The man shifted in his seat, the chair creaking with his movement. “He was. As I said, he no longer works here.”
“So let’s review what we’ve covered so far. The solicitor who found the long-lost heir of the Earl of Purlington no longer works here and you’ve no idea where he is?”
“Correct.”
“When did he leave?”
The man paled, pulling at his tight collar. “Some months ago.”
“But the heir was only found in November and it’s April now. Surly you have a more specific time frame for me than some months ago?”
“Right. He left in January, I believe. Warmer climes. He found the London winter unsuitable.”
“A solicitor with enough funds to travel to better climes.” Not out of the question but certainly suspicious especially when he considered his partner’s vagueness. “Is he returning?”
“I don’t think so.” The man shook his head. “To be honest…”
“That would be refreshing.”
His thick hands splayed out on the desk, ignoring Wyatt’s comment. “We had a falling out.”
Wyatt sighed. “Mr. Landry, wasn’t it?”
The other man nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Mr. Landry,” Wyatt took a deep breath, praying for patience.
“I don’t need any details beyond Mr. Crosby’s dealings with the Earl of Purlington, but one way or the other, and by other I mean getting more solicitors and the law involved, I mean to know how he discovered the heir to the Purlington title.
My wife, the Viscountess Ware, is the former earl’s daughter, you see, and it’s of vital importance to me. ”
“I-I see.”
“I’m not a man who gives up easily and you should ask yourself how difficult you’d like this to become.”
The man’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “I told him no good would come of it.”
Finally. They were getting somewhere. “Come of what?”
He shook his head. “The man my former colleague placed in the earl’s seat,” his color went from pale to putrid green. “He’s not what he claims to be.”
Wyatt’s brows lifted, anticipation making his fist clench. “Go on.”
Reaching into his desk, Mr. Landry pulled out a bottle of whisky and taking a long swig, stood.
Then he crossed to a cabinet where the pulled out a large file.
“Take this and do with it what you will. I had nothing to do with any of it, other than what I found out when he was leaving. I should have taken it all to the police. I just…”
And then he dropped a large file into Wyatt’s hands.
Flipping through the papers, an outline of the truth became clear rather quickly.
Eugene was an imposter and in no way eligible to be the lord.
The solicitor had taken a large sum of money to falsify a birth document, a marriage certificate, and a sum, that if Wyatt wasn’t mistaken, had been embezzled directly from Priscilla’s accounts.
His mouth dropped open as he flipped to another page.
Eugene was going to prison. Satisfaction rippled over his skin. Priscilla would be so relieved to know she’d never have to see the man’s face again.
What would happen to her father’s seat, he couldn’t say, but as he looked at the documents, he knew it didn’t matter.
The holdings could revert to the crown, a far better place for them than in Eugene’s petty and selfish hands.
He stood, snapping the file shut.
“What…what happens next?” the other man asked, not able to keep the croak from his voice.
Wyatt frowned. How involved this man was, he couldn’t say. None of the documents bore his name. “You’ll be called to testify once the false earl is put on trial.”
The other man’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you, my lord.”
He appreciated the other man’s honesty, even if it had taken some convincing. “Thank you.” He’d have to find Eugene. But first, he needed to share what he’d learned with Priscilla. Had she thought him a hero before? Surely he’d win her affection for always with what he’d just discovered.
Leaving, file in hand, he climbed into his carriage and started for home. He couldn’t wait to see his wife, share what he’d discovered. Knowing that this time, he’d kept the woman in his care well and truly safe.
Arriving home, he made his way up the stairs to the study where he’d left Priscilla at work.
He entered the room, words ready to burst from his chest. But one look at her face made him stop.
Her accusing glare held unshed tears as she rose to standing. “My lord.”
Her voice rang with warning, tension filling ever line of her body.
He stopped, trying to decide what had happened in the few hours he’d been gone. “Priscilla? What’s wrong?”
She picked up a sheet of folded parchment from the table where she had been working. “Who is Angela?”
His heart stopped in his chest. How did he answer that?