Emerald Garden (24 page)

“Forgive me for asking, Miss Brandi, but how did you know of that concealed drawers existence?”

Brandi grinned. “Papa didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re asking. He’d never consider discussing business with a child—much less a female one.” Her grin turned impish. “But I was most inquisitive and resourceful. Whenever I couldn’t sleep, I’d toddle downstairs and peer through the study’s keyhole, watching Papa work. I soon noted where he stored his papers.”

“Indeed. It appears that, as a child, inquisitiveness was not your only affliction. Evidently, you also suffered from the consistent and annoying malady of insomnia.”

Brandi’s brows rose quizzically.

“Well, between your sleepless nights snooping about Townsbourne and your equally vigilant watches atop the trees at Emerald Manor, you rarely had time to close your eyes.”

Color suffused Brandi’s face. “You knew?”

“Someone had to keep an eye on you. Most times, you were so busy studying Master Quentin’s antics, you nearly lost your balance. Who better than I to look out for your safety?”

“But you resided at Colverton …” Brandi protested weakly.

“Not when the duke’s parties required my supervision. On those occasions, I traveled with him to Emerald Manor.” A corner of Bentley’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “Don’t worry, my lady. I guarded your secret well. No one knew of your adventures save I.”

“You never told Quentin?”

“Of course not. Master Quentin would have been mortified. Besides—” A twinkle. “I’m certain you’ll tell him yourself, when the right time presents itself.”

Brandi lowered the file to the desk. “He is different with me than he was with those …other women, isn’t he, Bentley? ’Tis not just my imagination?” Even as she asked, Brandi flushed. How could Bentley know what occurred when she was in Quentin’s arms? For that matter, wouldn’t he be shocked to learn that they were physically involved—even on the most casual level?

Soberly, Bentley met Brandi’s gaze, ignoring the obvious embarrassment staining her cheeks. “Exceedingly different, Miss Brandi. Not only in actions, but in feelings. Trust me. The contrast is staggering.”

Relief flooded her features. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

Lowering her eyes, she returned to the task at hand, scooping up her father’s file and flipping through its routine contents until she came upon a small ledger.

Curiously, she opened it, scanning the pages.

“These are records of Papa’s recent business transactions,” she murmured, assessing the figures. “Everything appears to be in order …” Abruptly, she broke off, her hand hovering over the page she’d been about to turn. “This is odd,” she murmured. “Very odd,” she added, leaning forward for closer inspection.

“What is, my lady?”

“I had no part in Papa’s business dealings, ’tis true, but I do know—both from hearsay and from the size of my inheritance—that he was an exceptionally shrewd and successful businessman. Yet, from what I can discern of these figures, most of his recent investments were losing an exorbitant sum of money. In fact, the only ventures that show a profit—and a considerable one at that—are the ones he shared with Desmond.” She raised stunned eyes to Bentley. “Clearly, Desmond wasn’t exaggerating when he spoke of his business acumen. The way it looks, he was single-handedly responsible for Papa’s sustained wealth, and that, without him, Papa would have been in dire straits. I never would have imagined …” Brandi’s voice trailed off and her gaze returned to the ledger, seeking confirmation of the astonishing truth. An instant later, she leaned back, issuing a resigned sigh. “It appears I owe Desmond my thanks yet again.”

During her entire explanation, Bentley had merely gaped, looking more astounded than she, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Would you reiterate your findings for my benefit?” he managed, finding his voice. “Am I to understand the viscount’s records indicate that Master Desmond made prosperous investments on his behalf?”

“Exactly.” Brandi studied Bentley’s stymied expression. “That shocks you. Why?”

Bentley cleared his throat, swiftly retreating behind his discreet veneer. “Like you, I find your discovery to be a startling revelation. So, yes—like you, I am shocked.”

“But for a different reason.” Brandi’s chin came up, and she met and held Bentley’s gaze. “My shock is a reaction to my father’s unexpected financial blunders. Yours is in response to Desmond’s abilities as an investor.” A vulnerable look drifted over her face. “I’m finding this whole discovery painful enough to handle,” she admitted in a small voice. “So I’d appreciate your not making it more difficult by keeping things from me. I know you well, Bentley, and you never say anything without a reason. So would you please enlighten me?”

Perceiving her distress, Bentley hesitated, torn between protocol and allegiance. Then he pressed on. “My loyalties were and are with the late duke,” he pronounced. “And his were with his family. However, his devotion did not blind him to certain truths—truths he would not want concealed at the risk of hurting you and Master Quentin. No, in this case, I feel certain that His Grace would want me to speak up. Therefore, Miss Brandi, to borrow your phrase, I shall be blunt. The Steel businesses thrived because of His Grace—and only His Grace. Delicately put, Master Desmond’s business skills were, at best, dubious. He spent money recklessly and without thought. Despite numerous battles with his father, he showed no intention of altering that vice. ’Twas one of the late duke’s major concerns.”

Brandi’s tension ebbed. “Thank you for your candor, Bentley. I realize I placed you in a very difficult position, and for that, I apologize. But I had to know the truth.” Her brow furrowed. “Of course, now that I know the truth, I’m totally at sea. You claim Kenton deemed Desmond a poor businessman. A few days ago, Quentin implied Desmond was distorting the facts when he spoke to me of Kenton’s pride in his accomplishments—both personal and professional. Perhaps the two of you are right that Desmond and his father clashed personally—Lord knows, I myself am not Desmond’s most avid fan. But professionally? It doesn’t make sense—not according to these figures. See for yourself; Desmond yielded tens of thousands of pounds for Papa—pounds that, according to these other losses, were desperately needed to keep Papa from drowning financially.”

Bentley walked over to the desk, peering meditatively over Brandi’s shoulder. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “A rather odd discrepancy.” Briskly, he straightened, putting a definitive end to their speculation. “I’ll discuss it with Master Quentin when he returns.” Smoothing his sleeves, he sought to change the subject and lighten the mood simultaneously. “Speaking of Master Quentin, we have quite a bit to disclose to him, haven’t we? I’m eager to see his reaction when we tell him of our impulsive jaunt to Townsbourne.”

The exasperated expression on Brandi’s face proclaimed Bentley’s diversion as successful.

“I haven’t forgotten.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “But I must tell you, not one of my childhood governesses was ever this strict.”

“Which is why none of them ever knew when their young charge was frolicking about,” Bentley returned with a wry grin. “Whereas I, on the other hand, did.” Decorum reinstated, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we go? I believe we’ve exhausted every recess and alcove Townsbourne offers.”

“I suppose so.” Brandi chewed her lip. “Let’s see—” She counted off on her fingers. “We searched Papa’s chambers, the library, both studies, the anterooms, and every table and desk in sight. Other than this file, we’ve turned up only routine copies of documents, the originals of which—according to Papa’s notes—are in Mr. Hendrick’s office. Yes, ’twould seem our explorations here are at an end.” Gathering up her fathers file, she paused only to slide the ledger back within. “This is coming with me,” she announced, closing the desk drawer and coming to her feet. “I want Quentin to see it.” She tossed Bentley a saucy look. “After he berates us for our disobedience.”

“Indeed, my lady. I’ve already begun quaking.”

“Coward,” Brandi teased, sailing by him.

The carnage ride home was quiet, both occupants pensive as they sought a plausible explanation for the discrepancies they’d encountered, contemplated what their next step should be.

Just as the carriage rounded the drive leading to Emerald Manor, Bentley made a decisive sound, his head snapping up to meet Brandi’s hopeful gaze.

“You’ve thought of something?” she asked eagerly.

“Perhaps. Miss Brandi, would you object to my inspecting the viscount’s ledgers once again?”

“Of course not.” Brandi extracted the thin book and handed it to Bentley, waiting with bated breath as he examined it. “Well?” she demanded when she could bear it no longer. “Have you found something?”

“I don’t know. ’Tis possible.” Bentley raised his head. “Tell me, Miss Brandi—is Herbert tending the gardens today?”

Brandi blinked. Whatever she had expected, it hadn’t been this. “Is Herbert … yes, why?”

“Because several of the gentlemen listed here as business colleagues of the late viscount—those who coinvested with him in seemingly futile ventures—make their homes in Berkshire.”

“Is that significant?”

“I’m not certain. But it just so happens I have an old friend who resides in Berkshire.”

Brandi grinned. “Is he as irreverent as you?”

“Nearly, my lady—but not quite.” A glimmer of humor. “In any case, his name is Smithers, and he is the Duke of Allonshire’s valet—an old and trusted friend of the duke and his family.”

“Oh, I recall the Duke of Allonshire—I met him and his duchess, Alexandria, the first Season Papa brought me out. They make a lovely couple—so very much in love.”

“Yes, well …” Bentley actually flushed. “Evidently, that’s true, because they are currently on holiday—alone—in a most remote section of Scotland.”

“Alone?” Brandi’s lips curved. “In other words, even the duke’s valet was not invited on this secluded respite?”

“Exactly. Smithers remained at Allonshire to enjoy some well-deserved time off. He has an entire fortnight to himself and has expressly asked that I visit. I’m thinking now that perchance I shall.”

“Forgive me, Bentley, but what has all this to do with Papa’s ledger?”

“As I said, several of the gentlemen listed in the viscount’s ledger reside in Berkshire—a shire in which Smithers is both well-respected and established. I myself can vouch for his trustworthiness and his discretion. ’Tis no wonder so many servants in the nearby manors confide in him. Why, he’s privy to as much gossip in Berkshire as I am in the Cotswolds.”

Dawning comprehension ensued. “You’re hoping that Smithers might have gleaned a tidbit of gossip from another servant—a servant who is employed by one of the Berkshire gentlemen on Papa’s list?”

“Not just a tidbit, my lady. I’m hoping Smithers has gleaned news that one of his colleagues’ employers has recently been boasting a prosperous outcome to a specific business investment—an investment we know from the viscount’s ledger sustained a substantial loss.”

Brandi nodded fervently as she followed Bentley’s reasoning through to its obvious conclusion. “And, if such is the case, the gentleman in question is one of two things: a liar or a swindler.”

“Precisely.” Bentley cleared his throat. “Moreover, if the latter is true, there’s one further possibility we must consider …” He hesitated.

“ ’Tis all right, Bentley,” Brandi reassured him. “Whatever it is, I can withstand it. Tell me.”

“Very well, my lady.” His voice took on a soothing note. “So long as you realize this is all speculation.”

“I do.”

He nodded. “If my theory proves accurate and your father were being cheated—and if he happened to stumble upon this fact, wouldn’t that supply the gentleman in question with a reason to ensure the viscount’s silence?”

“Oh my God.” Brandi turned sheet white, instinctively clutching Bentley’s hand.

For the first time, Bentley didn’t withdraw into suitable butler-mode, instead leaving his right hand under Brandi’s, covering her cold fingers with his left. “I didn’t mean to upset you, my lady. I repeat, this is purely supposition and, very possibly, without a shred of merit.”

“But your conclusion is logical,” she managed. “I know in my heart Papa was too clever a businessman to invest as poorly as these ledgers imply. And if you’re right—if one of the men on that list was swindling him—and if Papa learned the truth and refused to remain silent …” She drew a shaky breath. “Then it provides us with our first real motive since the murder.”

“Those are numerous
ifs,
Miss Brandi.”

“Nevertheless, ’tis plausible and must be explored,” she replied, the color slowly returning to her face as she called upon her emotional reserves. “By all means, go to Berkshire. Begin with your friend Smithers. And, if he cannot help us, then you and I will delve into the financial status of each and every man on Papa’s list until we’ve either exhausted or confirmed your theory.”

“What you’re describing is a dangerous undertaking, Miss Brandi,” Bentley warned, giving her hand a hard shake. “And I won’t have you doing anything rash. So I repeat my original question: Is Herbert tending the garden at Emerald Manor today?”

“I’ve already answered: yes. But why is that important?”

“Because I won’t leave you alone. And, being that today is my day off and Master Desmond is not expecting me to return to Colverton until late, ’tis the perfect opportunity for me to slip off to Berkshire. I’ll be able to go and come without offering any explanations or igniting any tempers.”

Brandi’s eyes widened. “You want to go today, and you want Herbert to act as my governess during your absence?”

“I don’t think Herbert would take kindly to being referred to as a governess—but, yes. ’Tis the only way I’ll go.” Bentley frowned. “I’d prefer to await Master Quentin’s arrival, so I’d know you’d be in the safest of hands. But I fear that isn’t a viable choice, given Master Desmond’s aversion to our investigation. So, if Herbert is willing, today it is.”

The carriage came to a halt before Emerald Manor.

“We’re home,” Brandi announced, glancing out the window. “And, thanks to our early start, ’tis not even midday, giving you plenty of time to accomplish what you wish to.” She took up her father’s file, returning the ledger to its place. “Quickly. Deliver me to Herbert—as I know you better than to think you’d take me on my word. Then you can hasten to Allonshire with a clear conscience. As far as my being in safe hands, trust me, Herbert will be elated to stand guard over me—he’ll have an able body to assist him in his rock garden, and a ready ear to listen to his complaints about the uncooperative geraniums.”