Eighteen
CHRISTOPHER HAD NEVER been the most patient of men or the most violent, but if Cowasj didn’t stop shouting at Amelia . . . Pearl, he’d punch him on the nose.
Back in Gladstone in his drawing room, Christopher sat on the edge of the couch, trying to control his temper. Pearl was in front of him while Cowasj paced, leaving deep marks on the carpet with his boots.
“You have a lot to answer for!” The prince closed a fist. “Starting with—”
Christopher growled. “I’ll ask the questions.”
He turned towards Pearl, ignoring the tug at his heart her concerned blue eyes started. The anger faded in front of her shivering body. He wanted to hold her and calm her trembling with his kisses, but her eyes had fooled him once, so he bit down his desire to comfort her.
“Why did you lie?” he croaked out.
Her cheeks flushed the same deep red they did when he’d thrust inside her. Not the right moment to have inappropriate thoughts. Besides, she was flustered for reasons that had nothing to do with sex.
She shifted her position. “My father isn’t a criminal.”
“We have evidence—” Cowasj started.
“You’re mistaken. He’s a good man.”
“Really?” Lips pressed tightly, Cowasj produced a document from his bag and handed it to her. “Read it.”
Christopher had read that bloody document dozens of times. It was the contract Elias had made many people sign to authorise him to invest their money. Attached to the documents were copies of the money transactions and how it had disappeared from the investors’ bank accounts.
“You’re an accountant, I reckon.” There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in Cowasj’s voice. “I believe you understand what the papers mean.”
A tremor shook her hands. Her lips paled to a worrying shade of grey. “Father.”
Too much pain and shock echoed in the single word. Surely, she had no idea of her father’s fraud.
“I came here because I wanted to discover where my father is. Before he left for India, he spent very little time at home. Then he left and said he’d be in touch, but didn’t tell me where he was going. I received a few letters from Delhi, though, and then nothing. He vanished and left me alone.”
“What did he write?” Dorian asked from his standing position near the hearth.
Pearl glanced at the paper again. “He simply wrote he was fine and that would be home soon. But then in his last letter, he mentioned he lost a huge sum. After that, I knew nothing of him. My guess is that he’s hiding somewhere. But why didn’t he contact me?” Tears glistened in her pleading eyes. “You have to believe me. Finding my father is the only reason I came here.”
Silence fell. Christopher squirmed on the couch, flexing his fingers. She didn’t know.
Even Cowasj stopped pacing and fiddled with the collar of his shirt.
Dorian found a vase on the mantelpiece suddenly fascinating, and Benedict scratched the back of his neck.
“What?” Pearl straightened, her slender neck stretching. “Is something the matter?”
Every gaze in the room set on Christopher.
He coughed into his closed fist. “Pearl.”
She drew in a breath that strained her bodice, and for a split second, the quick movements of her breasts distracted him. Curse his weakness for her.
Christopher gazed at her. It was only fair that he gave her the bad news, showing some respect for her pain. “I’m afraid that your father is dead,” he said the last word in a whisper. “The Indian police found his body in Delhi. He was stabbed. The police think the murderer is one of the bankrupted people your father tricked.”
The colour drained from her face, and her bottom lip trembled. “Papa.”
“Pearl, I’m so sorry.” He reached out and took her cold hands in his. He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her.
Her body shook, but her fingers gripped his hands hard. “I can’t believe it.” Tears streamed down her face. “It’s not . . . He didn’t.”
