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“Negligent, you mean,” Samantha grimly replied.
Girvin shrugged. “I cannot say, my lady.”
“You might as well say it, because that’s what it certainly sounds like.”
Could Haxton’s mismanagement be the source of their financial problems? That seemed too mundane a solution to the problem she’d been chasing for months.
“I take it that’s what you were arguing about,” she added.
“Yes, he accosted me. I believe he realized I was growing suspicious and wished to address my suspicions.”
Samantha struggled to repress her growing anger. “It seemed, rather, that he was trying to intimidate you.”
A fatalistic shrug was Girvin’s answer.
Along with anger came a growing sense of impatience. Samantha needed answers, and she also needed to get back to the party. “Tell me right now, Mrs. Girvin. What, specifically, do you believe is the problem?”
“It’s possible we’ve been overcharged by some of our suppliers.”
Samantha shook her head. “How? You check all the invoicing and all the supplies that come to us.”
Girvin spread her hands wide, apparently waiting for Samantha to arrive at the right conclusion.
She sighed. “Of course. You were growing suspicious because youdocheck everything.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then why in blazes didn’t you come to me?”
“I did not wish to impugn a board member. Especially not one who serves as the foundation’s banker.”
“Girvin—”
The housekeeper’s gaze suddenly flared with resentment. “He’s a nob and a man. Who would ye believe? Him or me?”
Samantha mentally blinked. Girvin never used cant, nor ever sounded like she’d just stepped out of a tavern in Old Town. And she’d never seen the woman so fashed. In fact, she’d never seen Girvin fashed at all.
“I’d be more likely to believe you than Haxton,” she replied. “I’ve never been unduly impressed by that man’s skills.”
For a moment, Girvin seemed genuinely nonplussed. Then she collected herself and gave a dignified nod.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said in her usual, well-modulated tones.
But since that slip into cant, Samantha now realized there was something artificial about Girvin’s speech. Every word seemed carefully parsed, as if trying to hide something. Her origins, perhaps? But she didn’t give a fig where Girvin came from, as long as she did the job.
When the small casement clock on the mantel chimed out the hour, Samantha grimaced. She needed to get back to the party right now.
“We’ll have to finish this later, Mrs. Girvin. We’ve been gone much—”
She turned at the sound of a firm tread out in the hall. Braden appeared in the doorway, a frown marking his brow.
“There you are,” he said. “I was beginning to worry. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course,” Samantha replied.
“I’ll return downstairs, my lady,” Girvin said, and hurried to the door.
Braden studied her for a moment before stepping out of the way to let her pass. He watched her retreat down the hall, then turned back to Samantha.
