“She didn’t have to. The matter has been weighing on my mind since I met her, but I’ve only recently realized the repercussions of being illegitimate.” She sank onto the stiff, brass-studded leather chair in front of his desk. “You must find out who paid her mother every month and why the money has stopped.”
Once, Eliza had expressed interest in doing the same, though Mark didn’t like to abuse his power at the Bank. “It’s unethical. I cannot snoop into other folk’s finances.”
“Eliza is someone’s daughter and she deserves what is owed to her.”
He sank back into his seat, sighing. “Eliza has no need of money…”
“She needs answers, Mark. Closure. She deserves a chance to move forward without wondering who—or what—has held her back in the first place.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he argued. “I’m saying you’re meddling.”
“I am spurring,” his sister countered. “Someone must.”
“But I don’t care who Eliza’s father is. I don’t care about the circumstances of her birth or the misfortunes of her youth. She has my respect despite all of that. She has courage, pluck. She has a clever and curious mind. These virtues are inherently Eliza’s, and her birthright won’t change that. In fact, it might stir up more trouble than it’s worth.”
Mark’s heartfelt, earnest words did not soothe his sister’s conscience. She looked as though she wished to share a secret, yet dared not give a voice to her misgivings. The quietude of the Bank—like a tomb on the busiest days—blocked out the noisy chaos of the streets beyond its walls. A mantel clock ticked down the minutes, its rhythm incessant and almost maddening in the silence.
At last, he surrendered. “Ann, have you some suspicion you wish to share?”
“I cannot ask Sid…”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Because the information you seek is underhanded and you’re afraid of losing his job? Yet you aren’t afraid ofmegetting sacked.”
“You can’t be sacked, you’re appointed.”
“True, but I can be forced to resign…” The thought of being driven from the Court of Directors sent a chill down his spine. He’d worked too hard to get where he now sat to risk his position. He was nearly forty, and could scarcely start his career over at so late a stage.
Ann waved him off. “I believe the answers lay partly in the ledger books of Stannard-Hopeley,” she explained, “but you might have a poke ‘round at Farrer’s to start.”
“The solicitor’s firm?” He almost laughed. Farrer and Company represented the interests of dukes, lords, and even princes. “You aim very high, Ann.”
“No higher than anyone ought to do where Eliza Summersby is concerned.”
He was touched by her protectiveness of the girl. The two most important women in his life had formed a fast friendship, and he suspected Ann of wanting more. “If you think I require an excuse to make her your sister-in-law, you are mistaken.”
Within reason, he had the luxury of marrying to please his heart. His wealth was secure. He had an heir in his nephew, Geoff. There were no impediments to taking Eliza as his bride if they both wished.
Ann understood this. “You’re not a snob, Mark.”
“Neither are you, despite your lofty connections. What exactly are you reaching for?”
“I cannot fathom how I couldn’t see it, but once Eliza mentioned the resemblance, everything made sense! She is so very like Lady Ermentrude Prendergast, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Bodlington! If Her Grace is liable to confuse the two girls on the street, then surely my theory holds some merit.”
The weather had been inclement that night at the Lyric Theatre. Between the drizzle of rain and the haze of lamplight, even a pickpocket had moved about unseen. It wasn’t absurd to mistake a face in the crowd, yet Eliza was uncommonly pretty.
Her origins were obscure, but someone had raised her well. She’d been brought up with certain expectations that were cruelly and unfairly snatched from her. She had been cast out, hidden away, and ultimately ruined.
Mark couldn’t fathom the possibility of Eliza’s true parentage, for he dealt with facts, numbers, and reality. What his sister suggested was every lonely child’s dream. “This isn’t a storybook fairytale that you read to your son at bedtime. Street urchins don’t end up being the long-lost daughters of dukes.”
“I only ask you to look into it,” she said. “With your canniness and connections, it should only take an afternoon of research to find the truth. Don’t you think Eliza ought to know whether her father is one of the richest and most powerful men in England?”
“Bodlington would never acknowledge her.”
“Well…no, naturally not. But that would only explain why he couldn’t acknowledge her—had His Grace married her mother, Eliza would belong to one of our premier peerages. She’d be descended from one of the greatest families in British history. She would be Lady Elizabeth Prendergast!”
For a moment, the siblings regarded one another over the desktop. Mark’s heart seized at the thought of Eliza, the product of an old and noble family, being callously denied her birthright. Even if he could prove her identity, the duke and duchess would never claim a connection. Still, she was entitled to know the truth, even if she deserved better than the Bodlingtons.
Mark shifted in his chair to study the cover of the ledger book before him. He’d reached a crossroads in his life at an age when everything had felt so settled in his world. Yet from the moment Eliza had leaped into his carriage, she’d sent him careening down a different path.
