It was odd because he felt guilty about hislackof guilt. He had taken her innocence. He should have done the honorable thing and offered to marry her, but the thought of marriage filled him with horror. Everyone he had ever cared about had died. He would not risk suffering the pain of loss again.
Excuses. Is that all you are good for?
He growled as he re-read a page for the third time. Hours of studying his brother’s books, analyzing the sums on every page, and finally, he’d found the source of the discrepancy. Someone, his brother, maybe, or another member of the household, had systematically padded the numbers. Whoever had done the deed was an expert. The amounts were off by only a slight margin. The only reason he’d puzzled it out, instead of banging his head against his desk, was that he had found an older set of books dating from when his father had managed the accounts.
Leo didn’t want to consider what it meant. For so long, he had allowed his brother to take on all responsibility for managing the finances of the estate. Once, when he’d been younger, he had allowed himself to fall into debt, and having no desire to bring shame to his family, had stepped away from the financial running of the estate. It had taken several months of working at a solicitor’s office to pay his family back what he’d owed.
“Do we have any news?” he asked Sinclair, tapping his fingers on the desk.
He’d sent his butler to the bank to get an accurate sum of the household funds so he could track down the source of the errors. Instead, Sinclair had returned with worse news. According to the bank, someone had impersonated him and withdrawn a significant sum from the household account. The funds represented only a small portion of the total value of the estate, but it vexed him. If the thief could do it once, they could do it again.
“I’m afraid not,” Sinclair said, with a sad shake of his head. “Your solicitor reported back that the clerk on duty insisted it was you who withdrew the money.”
“Who could have done it?” he asked. “It had to be someone familiar enough with the estate to know that is the bank we use. Someone similar enough in appearance to pass as me. Percy. Simon. Who else?”
“You’ve left out one key suspect,” Sinclair said, holding up a hand. “It was I, my lord. And now that you have caught me, I shall have to strike you down, then take off for the continent. Blast, you have foiled my plans.”
Leo laughed. “If you’re the one fleecing me, I have far bigger problems.”
But the thought that someone close could have stolen from him made him pause.
“What about the break-in, my lord?” Sinclair asked, standing stoically by the fireplace. “Might it be related?”
Leo crossed the room and poured sherry into a glass. “I had considered it.”
The coincidences were piling up in a disturbing pattern. First the break-in, then Saffron’s carriage crashing.
And now this mess.
It couldn’t be chance. Which meant that one person was likely at the center of it all. He sipped his drink and set his mind to the suspects. Percy was an unlikely candidate. The man was at least a head shorter than him and much skinnier. Simon, however, was a different story. They could pass for brothers, aside from the difference in hair color, which was easily disguised. On more than one occasion, he had wondered how Simon could afford the lifestyle he so obviously enjoyed. The man had a motive, that much was obvious. But if Simon needed money, Leo was certain the man would come to him and ask for it. He had done so before, and Leo had shown no reluctance in outfitting his cousin with all the funds he needed to continue his carousing. Simon reminded Leo of a younger version of himself, before Sabrina’s death had turned him into a hermit.
This is ridiculous.
By spending so much time in his office, he was playing right into the hand of his adversary. He charged out of the room and strolled through the house, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He found his cousin playing croquet in the garden. Saffron and Lady Allen were watching nearby, their table set with an afternoon tea. Olivia caught his gaze, then waggled her fingers and gave a saucy wink. She leaned over and whispered something in Saffron’s ear.
Focus, Leo thought. Saffron was not his concern.
Simon made his shot, clunking the mallet against the ball and sending it flying through the holes set up in the yard. That done, he set down his mallet and strolled over, but his smile faded when he got closer. “What is it, cousin?”
“Follow me,” Leo said, pulling his cousin into the house and out of the range of prying ears and eyes. Once in the hallway, he put a hand on Simon’s shoulder and looked directly into his eyes. “Money has gone missing from the estate accounts. Tell me you are not the one who did it.”
Simon didn’t even need to answer. The truth was written all over his face.
“I can explain,” Simon stuttered. “I was going to return the funds immediately, but there were…” He glanced away. “Extenuating circumstances.”
Leo squeezed his cousin’s shoulder tighter. “I am listening.”
Simon winced but made no move to flee.
“Gambling debts.” He covered his face with one hand. “A thousand pounds. I was on a winning streak, and then I started losing, and I couldn’t stop.” His voice caught. “I swear to you, I tried to stop.”
A memory flashed into Leo’s mind. As a young man, he’d gotten drunk and gambled himself into a hole that he could not dig himself from. The owners of the gambling hall had beaten him to within an inch of his life and left him bleeding outside a charity hospital. His family had paid off the debt, but they had been so embarrassed, they’d refused to visit. Only Sabrina had come to see him, and the betrayal in her eyes had hurt him more than the beating. He’d vowed to her on that day that he would never gamble again.
Which made your inevitable betrayal that much more painful.
“I would have loaned you the money,” Leo said softly.
Simon’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I was too stubborn. Pride goeth before the fall, as you know.” He lowered his gaze. “I am sorry, cousin. Everything that has happened is my fault.”
