“Hatcher & Byrnes was listed?” he asked, fully knowing she had already said so.
“In clear, decipherable letters.”
Jonathan’s jaw worked once before he managed to still it, his mind reaching instinctively for explanations that did not require the whole world to tilt so violently beneath them.
“There may be some mechanism we are not seeing,” he said carefully, keeping his voice low. “Financial records can appear damaging when seen out of context.”
Miss Eden’s lips tightened.
“I believe you. I do,” he added in a rush. “Clearly, there is something afoot, for we have no financial dealings with Eden & Co., but if your accusations are what they appear to be, this is not a mere misunderstanding. That is blatant fraud, pure and simple, and I struggle to comprehend how such a powerful and visible business could perpetrate such a massive deception.”
Brows furrowing, Miss Eden watched him with wary eyes.
“We must be careful,” he added. “It may indicate fraud. It may indicate an error. It may indicate something improper but not as widespread as we fear. But regardless, you are not alone in this. I will do everything in my power to sort this out. I give you my word.”
Chapter 34
Some error in the ledgers. Some misunderstanding in the accounts. Some arrangement so tangled that only men of business could make sense of it. Nora yearned for something—anything—that might set her world back in its proper order and make Papa the man she had believed him to be.
There was nothing she wanted more.
Swindlers were grasping, selfish creatures. They hid their gains, spent them in secret, ruined others for the sake of their own comfort. They did not give heaping portions of their ill-gotten gains to charity. It was nonsensical, and Papa was a philanthropist of the highest order.
Perhaps he was playing a modern-day Robin Hood? That did not excuse the behavior, but surely, that proved her father wasn’t a monster, simply lying and cheating for his own benefit—
And it was at that moment that Nora understood what her honesty had done.
Mr. Hatcher was a good man. A practical man. The sort to address questions directly. To go straight to Papa in search of answers. The possibility struck with sickening force, making the music and laughter around them suddenly too bright, too loud,too close, as Nora realized that one honest question, asked of the wrong man, could ruin him.
Reaching for his arm, Nora’s hand closed around his sleeve, gripping him tight. “You must not speak to Papa about this. Please, Mr. Hatcher. Promise me.”
“Of course. I would never betray your confidence.”
The promise loosened the binds tightening around her, though Nora still struggled to fill her lungs. Releasing her grip on his sleeve, she smoothed the wrinkled fabric.
“Dance with me?” he asked, nodding toward the swirling couples.
Though Nora wouldn’t say that Mr. Jonathan Hatcher was an expressive sort, apt to display his emotions for all to see, the more time she spent in his company, the more she recognized the subtle signs, which were obvious to anyone who wished to see. His dark eyes brightened with the invitation, as eager for her to accept as Nora was to be swept into another realm far from the troubles that stole away her sleep.
“Yes,” she said, and though the word emerged softer than she intended, Mr. Hatcher’s lips pulled into the faintest of smiles as he offered his arm.
The music gathered around them as they joined the moving couples, stepping into the swirl of polished steps, cheery music, and swishing skirts. Then Mr. Hatcher’s hand settled at her waist, properly placed and perfectly respectable, yet steady enough that Nora felt it through every strained nerve in her body.
Mr. Hatcher guided her through the dance with such careful attention that she sank into the rhythm despite everything. His hold remained certain without being restrictive, his steps firm enough that she need only follow, and the simple relief of being carried along nearly undid her.
“We shall sort this out,” he said quietly when the turn brought them near enough for the words to be hidden beneath the music. “Not tonight. Not here. But we shall. You have my word.”
Nora’s fingers tightened lightly against his shoulder, and leaning a fraction nearer, she reveled in the feel of him. For one brief, trembling moment, she let herself hold onto hope. The steady pressure of Mr. Hatcher’s hand at her back, the quiet certainty in his movements, the way he watched her with such confidence, it sank into her bones like that first drink of tea after returning home from a winter’s walk; the warmth spread and left her feeling spent.
And she yearned to rest her head on his shoulder and remain there for the rest of time—
Nora stiffened, and Mr. Hatcher’s brows rose at the shift, silently asking what was amiss, and she forced a reassuring smile (small though it may be) onto her lips.
Had she learned nothing? The question curled its sharp fingers around her chest, squeezing her until she couldn’t breathe. Two failed engagements. Mr. Lyndon may not have been a fortune hunter, but he still had abandoned her without a backward glance, and who knew what the truth was regarding Mr. Eddington’s failed suit, for she couldn’t trust her father’s word on anything anymore.
For goodness’ sake, even Mr. Hatcher had approached her under false pretenses. Yet still she clung to a gentleman, desperately believing that this time matters would end differently. How many times must her poor judgment be proven before Nora Eden learned not to trust in men? How could she believe her assessment of any man’s character when she was so often wrong?
And in that moment, the room itself conspired to reinforce the lesson her heart refused to learn, allowing Nora a clear viewof her father standing amongst his supplicants and acolytes. One laughed heartily at something he said. Another leaned nearer, smiling with the air of a man honored merely to be included. Everywhere she looked, she saw the same easy trust reflected back at him—in attentive faces, ready smiles, and hands extended without hesitation.
