Joshua swore under his breath. “You have proof of that?”
“Not yet. But Vanessa suspected something was wrong when she looked over the account ledgers this morning—” Sheridan let out an oath, then pulled out his pocket watch. “Damn. It’s nearly four. That’s when Bonham and I agreed to meet.” His blood roared in his ears. “I left Vanessa looking over the books. And Mother is home as well.”
Sliding open the front panel, he called up to his coachman. “Make haste, Harry! We’ve got to get back to Armitage House at once.”
Immediately, the coachman increased his speed.
“When we get there,” Joshua said, “I want you to stay in the coach, Gwyn.”
“Not on your life! I can help.”
“You’re carrying our child,” Joshua said hoarsely. “I don’t want you anywhere near that unpredictable bastard.”
“I don’t have to be near him to be a help. I can at least keep Mama preoccupied.”
Sheridan nodded. “That could be useful.”
“What if he decides to finally try killing your mother?” Joshua bit out. He took Gwyn’s hand in his. “If you get in his way, sweeting—”
“I won’t.” Gwyn set her shoulders. “You won’t even know I’m in the house.”
Joshua looked as if he might argue, but Gwyn was clearly set upon resisting. “Fine,” he said. He looked at Sheridan. “We’ll need a plan.”
“We will indeed.” Sheridan’s heart beat the frenzied pace of a soldier heading into battle. “Are you armed? Because I have my pistol case with me, and you can use one of my pistols. They’re both loaded. We didn’t know what we might encounter at Lady Hornsby’s.”
With a gleam in his eyes, Joshua opened his greatcoat to show two pockets, each containing a pistol. “I thought we might need these.”
“And his cane becomes a sword,” Gwyn said helpfully.
“Actually, this is the cane that has a smaller pistol in the handle,” her husband corrected her. “But I do have a blade in my boot.”
“Good God, you’re a walking arsenal!” Sheridan said. “Though I’m glad of it. Even now Vanessa might be alone with that . . . maniac.”
“She’ll be all right.” Gwyn reached over to squeeze his hand. “She’s quick-witted and resourceful. And Bonham has no reason to suspect we’ve figured out his game, anyway.”
“He might gain one if Vanessa confronts him about the embezzlement,” Sheridan said.
“Assuming that she’s unraveled it,” Joshua said. “If she has, she surely won’t even let the scoundrel in.”
“But if she does for some reason, she’ll have to convince him she knows nothing of it, or she might be dead before we can reach her. He’ll have nothing to lose.”
No one argued with that. Who could? They knew he was right. Sheridan had left her alone with those ledgers . . . with Bonham on the way. And without telling her he loved her.
Of course he loved her. His feelings for Helene had been a pale imitation compared to the soul-abiding love he had for Vanessa. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have this gut-twisting fear for her in his chest. She was his life, his heart. And all he wanted was the chance to tell her. Because if he lost her before he could do so . . .
No, he wouldn’t let that happen.
Hold on, sweetheart, we’re coming. I’m coming. Just stay alive until we get there.
Vanessa was rather pleased with herself. She’d taken a sheet of the ledger and redone it properly on a piece of clean paper. Her calculations showed she was right. Mr. Bonham’s numbers didn’t match up. It was a small amount, but if he’d been doing it for years it would add up to a great deal of missing money. And she knew exactly whose pockets it was going into, although it would take months to redo the ledgers to find out exactly how much he’d stolen.
No wonder the dukedom was struggling. Sheridan had been right to question Mr. Bonham’s figures. Even not being able to see the numbers right, he’d deduced that something didn’t make sense, and that was impressive.
How had Mr. Bonham managed to do it for so long without being caught? Perhaps he hadn’t embezzled anything during the days of Sheridan’s grandfather. Then, once Uncle Armie took over—a man who, by all accounts, wasn’t terribly interested in such matters—Mr. Bonham had been better able to siphon off funds. He could have drained away the money and deemed it overspending on Uncle Armie’s part.
A frisson of fear swept her. Sheridan and his siblings were nearly certain that Uncle Armie had been murdered. What if Mr. Bonham had let his greed govern his actions and had become more blatant in his stealing? Perhaps even the negligent Uncle Armie had noticed something was wrong. If he’d threatened Mr. Bonham with the possibility of firing him or having him arrested . . .
She shivered. That would mean Mr. Bonham had murdered Uncle Armie. And Sheridan had said his father was adamant about Sheridan learning to examine the books on his own. Perhaps Sheridan’s father had suspected Mr. Bonham of embezzlement, too. Perhaps Mr. Bonham had murdered him for the same reason.
Then when Sheridan had come along, clearly having issues with seeing numbers correctly, Mr. Bonham had probably decided not to worry about being caught, thinking that Sheridan would never notice his small, purposeful errors.
Arrogant scoundrel! She’d been told Mr. Bonham was a man of some wealth. Now she wondered if he’d just been stealing from the Armitage dukedom or from others of his clients as well.
Their butler appeared in the doorway to the study. “Your Grace, Mr. Bonham is here. He has an appointment with the duke. Shall I show him in?”
“Has the duke not returned?” she asked.
“Not yet, no.”
“Does Mr. Bonham know that?”
“I don’t believe so. I certainly didn’t tell him.”
“Very judicious of you.” She debated what to do. But she didn’t want Mr. Bonham anywhere near her without Sheridan there. Especially now that she knew he couldn’t be trusted. “Why don’t you tell him to wait, Phipps? Say that my husband is busy doing something else and will be with him shortly.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
As soon as the butler left, she went back to perusing the ledger. She should probably find another ledger from an earlier time. She stood and went to the bookshelf where Sheridan kept them to see if she could find one. It would help determine if—
“Where is His Grace?” a hard voice asked.
She jumped. “Good heavens, you startled me, Mr. Bonham,” she said, her heart pounding in her ears. She took a second to compose herself before turning to face him with what she hoped was a duchess’s imperious manner. “Phipps must have misunderstood when I told him to have you wait.”
“He stuck me in a parlor and left. The duke is never late for our appointments, so where is he?”
“That’s none of your concern,” she said, copying Mama’s tone of aristocratic condescension. “He’ll be here shortly, I’m sure. Perhaps you would prefer to wait in the parlor until he arrives.”
Ignoring her tone, he entered the room. “What are you doing with the duke’s ledgers?”