His mother gave him an approving look as she started walking to the door. “Then I wish you good luck,” she said.
Moments later, Mr. Benson entered the study. Tall and long-faced, his silver-streaked hair was neatly slicked back, and he wore the calm smile of a confident man.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” he said with a bow.
Richard gestured towards the empty chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Benson.”
The older man hesitated only briefly before taking the proffered chair. “Is something the matter?”
“There is,” Richard replied. “But I would prefer to wait until Miss Theodosia arrives before addressing it.”
“Miss Theodosia?” Mr. Benson asked, his brow furrowing.
“She is my sister’s companion.”
“I see… and why would she need to be present for our conversation?”
“You’ll understand in a moment.”
Mr. Benson settled back, seemingly unbothered. “How is Lady Olivia faring?”
“As well as can be expected,” Richard replied tersely. “Given everything.”
Mr. Benson’s expression turned solemn. “It was a terrible misfortune, what befell her. I was truly grieved to hear it.”
Richard studied him closely. He was smooth, practiced, and his voice steeped in sympathy that now felt hollow. No wonder his deceit had gone unnoticed for so long.
The door opened again, and Miss Theodosia steppedinside. Richard stood as she entered and said, “Miss Theodosia Smith, allow me to introduce Mr. Benson. He is my man of business.” He tripped over those last words.
Mr. Benson rose and gave a courteous bow. “Miss Theodosia.”
She curtsied. “Mr. Benson.” Her gaze slid to Richard with subtle apprehension.
“Come stand by me,” Richard invited, gesturing to the space beside him.
She complied, moving to stand at his right.
“I asked Miss Theodosia to review the estate accounts,” Richard began, “and she made a rather troubling discovery.”
Mr. Benson’s smile barely faltered. “And what would that be?”
“That you’ve been siphoning funds from my accounts for years,” Richard replied. “And based on Miss Theodosia’s calculations, you have stolen nearly ten thousand pounds.”
There was a brief silence before Mr. Benson asked, “You had a woman examine your accounts?”
“I did,” Richard said. “Miss Theodosia is precise and extremely capable.”
Mr. Benson chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt her intentions, my lord, but estate accounts are not simple. I fear she may have misunderstood them.”
“I assure you, I did not,” Theodosia said, her voice even but firm.
He raised a placating hand. “I meant no offense, Miss Smith. But these matters are complex. You haven’t been trained?—”
“I can still read a receipt,” she interrupted, “and I know what one should look like. Especially when a ten pound bill is entered in the ledger as one hundred and ten.”
Mr. Benson stiffened. “An oversight, nothing more.”
“Once or twice, perhaps,” she countered. “But the same ‘mistake’ appears monthly for three years. And always on lesser sums, to most likely avoid drawing attention.”
