“What on earth are you doing?”
“Looking for false bottoms,” I replied, distracted when I found a notch in the back corner. After a bit of fumbling, I determined it was a natural imperfection in the wood.
“Why?”
“Gabriel kept some of his things in the false bottom of a drawer. We might have solved his murder years earlier if we’d found it. A person who hides a key in a hollowed-out book seems like the kind of person who might employ a false bottom.”
“Carry on then.” He settled in the chair beside me and flipped open a folder.
I knocked on the bottom, but thethunkwas solid. I tried the top drawer next but was met with the same disappointment.
I grumbled, finally glancing up at Kit. And that was the precise moment we both recognized my position. His throat bobbed in a way that left absolutely no question about the direction of his thoughts—the same as mine. For a moment I froze, our gazes locked.
Then a mischievous thought overtook me. I was just as capable of torturing him. I settled my hands on his knees, then slid them up his thighs before using them to press myself up.
“Menace,” he muttered as I stood, then turned back to the desk to flip through pages at a rate that almost certainly indicated he wasn’t reading them.
Pleased with myself, I hopped onto the desk, letting my feet swing. Though he tried to hide it, a smile graced his lips. I couldn’t rate it from the angle, but it delighted me nonetheless.
“It seems this mystery is one best solved by a solicitor,” I said.
“I know,” he grumbled. “It’s what I was worried about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m nearly certain I know what is happening here. And I rather suspect it’s my fault.” He stopped flipping, snatched the file with his letters, and flipped through them.
I watched as he checked the dates, unsure what he was searching for. Eventually he found whatever it was and skimmed the contents. “Damn. Damn, damn, damn.” He spoke under his breath and mostly to himself.
“Damn,” I added and thumped my fist on the desk. It earned me a half-hearted smirk—not even a quarter smile. He didn’t even look up from the pages. “What is it?”
“I asked the steward to cut costs with no one in residence. I meant food expenses, firewood, candles, that sort of thing.”
“And he terminated some of the staff.” I’d had my suspicions as well. But this was extreme.
“I thought I was being prudent. The future earl—therealearl—would thank me for being respectful of his funds.” His voice was tight.
“It was a mistake, Kit.”
“This isn’t who I am. I don’t ignore problems, I solve them. I just… People lost their employment—their livelihood—because I was avoiding life. Lord only knows what else I’ll find in here.” He still hadn’t turned to me. Instead his head hung low above the desk, curls spilling over his brow.
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“No, but I should have. I should have reviewed the ledgers in detail instead of just matching totals. I should have done better.”
Unable to take the tight anger straining his voice, I dragged a hand through his hair before sliding onto his lap, my legs across his.
“Davina…”
“Don’t dismiss me. I have something to say.” One hand curled around his neck, tangled in the short curls there. The other found his chin and lifted it so his gaze meet mine. He was reluctant but eventually obeyed and I continued.
“Men train their entire lives to manage the responsibilities of an estate. And more than a few who train are rubbish at it. Youlost your father. You gained responsibilities you never prepared for or wanted with no warning. You did not intentionally dismiss staff. Your steward should have clarified before taking such drastic measures.”
“It’s my responsibility. That I was unprepared for it is of little help to the people who lost their income. No wonder Gibbs and Mrs. Reed are ready to string me up.”
His muscles were coiled tight and a frown was etched into his face, deeper than I’d seen in days. I pressed a kiss to the divots above his brow. His arm unfurled before sliding around my waist, but the tension remained.
“You cannot go back, only forward. You might inquire about rehiring anyone who is still without work. Can you afford backpay?” He nodded and turned his attention back to the documents, even while his hand tightened on my waist. “Start there. You know, though, that you have to make a choice. ”
