Georgina allowed herself a tight smile. “As I recall, he nearly bolted when you produced the accounts book.”
“Only nearly,” Mrs. Bainbridge replied, a touch of pride in her voice.
A flicker of amusement passed between them, a brief spark that lit the room. Barrington glanced up, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth, though his eyes remained fixed on the ledger. “Fear of you, madam, may yet keep the honest men from straying.”
“Fear and accuracy,” Mrs. Bainbridge answered smartly, running a finger down the page before her. “Both serve their uses.”
Alex’s expression darkened. “Which makes their name the perfect cover to mask illicit payments.”
Barrington tapped a line in the account book. “Except this payment didn’t go to them.”
Alex leaned in and swore softly. “No. It went to an unaffiliated account using their name. It’s a false trail. Deliberate misdirection.”
Alex closed the folio carefully, pressing his palm against the leather as though sealing it. “I want every account. Every name. Every shipment that passed through these hands.”
“We’ll find them,” Barrington agreed. “But we’ll need Mrs. Bainbridge’s ledger to cross-reference.” He turned to Mrs. Bainbridge. “Did you bring the household ledger?”
She gave a small nod. “I brought it but left it in the carriage. I wasn’t certain if you’d need it.”
He turned toward the door. “Kenworth.”
The valet appeared almost immediately, still carrying the damp from outside.
“Please retrieve Mrs. Bainbridge’s household ledger from the carriage.”
“I left it under the forward seat, Mr. Kenworth. It’s wrapped in oilcloth,” Mrs. Bainbridge added.
“At once, ma’am.” He disappeared down the corridor. As the door closed, the quiet deepened.
The fire had burned low, embers pulsing in the grate as shadows stretched long across the walls. Outside, the rain picked up, drumming harder against the glass.
Alex paced the length of the room, restless. His gaze drifted to the scattered folios and finally to a stack of Rowland’s letters. He picked one up, scanning the familiar, uneven script.
Georgina watched him a moment, then asked softly, “Were you close? You and Rowland?”
Alex hesitated, then answered honestly. “We respected each other. That’s not always easy.”
Georgina’s mouth curved. Her smile was soft, genuine. “No, it isn’t.”
They returned to the ledgers. Georgina and Mrs. Bainbridge bent together over the figures, the rhythm of their work quiet but purposeful, the storm outside echoing the reckoning taking shape.
Mrs. Bainbridge traced a finger down one column. “Here. A coal delivery, paid to an unfamiliar account.”
“Not one of our suppliers,” Georgina noted, her pulse quickening.
Alex leaned in. “Same name as in Rowland’s transaction.”
Georgina squinted at the slip, something prickling at the edge of her thoughts. The date had troubled her since morning. Could it have been an innocent mistake?
But then her eyes drifted lower, catching the word that made her breath catch. Commision.
Her hand came to her mouth before the laughter burst out, bright and unrestrained, until tears stung her eyes.
The men stared at her, startled.
“Georgina?” Alex’s concern cut through the room.
She waved a hand, breathless. “Don’t you see it, Alex? The date was bothering me, yes, perhaps just an error, but this,” she pointed, her eyes alight, “look at the word. Read what’s there. Not what you expect to see.”
