“This bank is run by yourself and Mr. Stanford?” Karrington’s voice was cold as he walked over to the table.
“Y-yes, I assisted Stanford with gathering the investors and securing an additional loan from Jenkins & Company.” Mr. White’s eyes shifted nervously around the room and he wrung his hands together. “As I told you the last time you inquired about Mr. Stanford, Your Grace, he is traveling.”
“Yes, I recall. I also told you I wanted to see Heartford’s ledgers to see how much money has been invested thus far, but now that he has returned, I’m sure he would like to handle the situation personally,” Karrington said, nodding toward Henry.
“Yes, I will. I’m going to reinstate Harris as my solicitor and together we will go over every transaction. If I see anything suspicious, I promise you, I will come for you, White. I don’t trust you or this Stanford, whoever he may be.” Henry knocked his knuckles on the table, causing Mr. White to jump slightly. Henry turned to his mother and uncle. “I’m going to remove both of you from what’s left of our accounts.” Henry slammed the book closed.
His mother’s loud wail pierced the room. “You cannot take our names off the accounts. My widow dower belongs to me and that is all we have left to live off of. We have expenses.”
“Then I suggest you cut back on spending. I can do whatever the hell I please. If you need something, you both have no choice but to come directly to me.”
“Henry, be reasonable,” his uncle said meekly, shifting his gaze to White.
“The only thing left to do is for you to marry a wealthy heiress while we build our wealth in Pomais.” Lady Heartford marched over to her son, her demeanor completely changed. Gone was the wailing, and it was replaced with the cunning of a mother on a mission. “Lady Florentia Vaughn is a lovely girl. I have gotten close with her mother. I know she would make a good wife for you.”
“Who the hell is Florentia Vaughn? I will not marry an heiress because you two invested all of our available funds just so you can be together! As far as I’m concerned, you can rot in the hell you’ve created.” He could not believe she still had the nerve to try to control him.
He was done being the dutiful son who believed everything his mother told him.
“I-I’m very sorry to say this, but there is not much in the bank.” Mr. White cleared his throat. “We had to use the funds from the sale of the townhome to pay your mother and uncle’s accounts and to establish several land grants in Pomais—”
“Bloody hell!” Henry turned angrily to White, took him by the lapels, and pulled him close.
“Henry! What are you doing?” his mother screeched.
“Now see here, sir,” White wheezed out, his pudgy face turning a rather odd scarlet that favored a ripe tomato.
“If I discover any foul play, I will be back for you.” Henry shook the pudgy man violently. “I will get to the bottom of this. Tell Mr. Stanford I want to speak to him once he returns to town.”
Mr. White nodded his head, his large jaw jiggling with the force of the movement. “O—Of course, when Stanford returns, I will call for you immediately.”
“Heartford, release him.” Karrington’s voice sounded far away.
Henry could not respond. The man in front of him had stolen all of their funds. His mother and uncle were easy fools.
“Henry! Karrington is right. Let go of him.” Elijah shook Henry’s shoulder, dragging him out of his rage.
Henry dug his index fingers into the larger man’s chest. “When Stanford returns, I want proof of this Pomais. If not, I want every cent my uncle invested back.” Releasing him, Henry turned and picked up the ledgers then wheeled around, his gaze deadly. “Every fucking cent.”
With those last words, he stormed out of the opulent townhome that was twice the size of the one his mother and uncle sold. He flung himself into the carriage followed by Karrington and Elijah.
They both gave him questioning looks as the carriage jerked forward. “What?” Henry dragged his hand through his hair, wishing it was longer so he had something to take his frustration out on.
“I thought you weren’t going to lose your temper?” Elijah tilted his head to the side.
“I couldn’t help myself. The entire ordeal drove me mad. They don’t even care they lost all of our funds.” Henry waved his hand wildly above him.
“You’ve changed. The Henry I knew would’ve never lost his temper like that. What happened?” Worry and concern etched Karrington’s face.
“How am I supposed to behave exactly?” Henry’s voice rose in the small space of the carriage. “I returned to find that I’m completely ruined by my own mother and uncle, both of whom I thought I could trust.” He pulled at his cravat, which felt more like a hangman’s noose than a fashionable accessory.
In his travels, he had done many things that he never dreamed a man in his position would’ve done. Henry learned the art of survival quickly, as he chose the more dangerous paths to venture. At the time, he needed to forget everything, his sister, the fire, Julia. Losing himself to the world around him gave him a momentary break from the pain and anger.
Now, he was hot all over and wanted nothing more than to punch something or someone. Hell, he needed a drink or a woman, maybe both. Dark brown hair and crystal blue eyes filled his mind.
“I understand you’re upset, man, but the cursing and the anger is out of control. Pull yourself together!” Karrington commanded him.
Henry wished he could, but the truth was, he didn’t know how. Hanging his head in shame, he admitted his fault to his closest friend. “Perhaps I am no longer that man.”
