He heard his tickerkin rolling to the hall and speaking to whoever it was. Hopefully, he’d tell them to go away.
The door opened and a metallic face peered around it. “Lady Verity Turner-Yardley is wondering if you might have a few free moments for her, sir?”
“Oh,” Alastair straightened. “Absolutely, Henry. Show her right in.”
Verity. Just the person he needed. She’d have an opinion on his calculations, without a doubt.
“I hope I’m not bothering you at a bad time, Alastair?” She walked in, bringing the scent of flowers and sunshine with her.
“A visit from you is never a bother, dear girl. In fact, it’s perfectly timed. I’m going to take the opportunity of showing you some of my recent work. I need your opinions.”
She smiled briefly. “And I yours, on a matter of some importance.” The smile vanished. “Considerable importance, actually.”
Obviously comfortable with him, she unfastened her bonnet and tossed it onto a nearby couch, pulling out a chair opposite Alastair and settling down. “I’m sorry, I have papers. Several papers.”
“Don’t be sorry, Verity. You and I are alike in many ways.” He gestured to his pile of papers. “I can’t live without ‘em.”
He watched as she sorted them neatly into piles, fascinated as always by the way her mind worked. Some might call it simple, organised, but he knew it was so much more than that.
“Right then,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It’s a problem, Alastair. And one for which I have no solution.”
Curious now, the older man frowned at her. “This is quite unusual, Verity. In fact I’m not sure I can recall you ever running into something unsolvable?”
“It’s bothering me too. So...”
But before she could begin showing Alastair her papers, the front doorbell rang again.
He rolled his eyes. “Henry,” he shouted. “Whoever it is, I’m not at home.”
“Well that would be a dreadful lie, now, wouldn’t it?”
Lucas Aschombe filled the doorway, smiling at Alastair. “I need your help, my friend. Something is wrong, and I’m having trouble putting my finger on it...” He stopped, blinking as he saw the other occupant of the room.
Verity gave him a level gaze. “Problems? The great Lucas Ashcombe unable to solve a problem? Interesting.”
Alastair spoke before Lucas had a chance to snap back at her.
“Sit, lad. This is certainly a morning to solve problems. And three heads are better than two.” He glanced at Lucas. “However, since she was already here, I’m going to let the lady have the floor first.”
Lucas muttered under his breath, but took the other chair at the table, and quietly pulled out a file filled with papers.
“Well,” said Verity. “I’m sure you’ll both find my problem to be quite unimportant, and with luck you can come up with a solution for me.”
“Let’s see.” Alastair beckoned toward her papers.
“Last evening,” she began, describing the events as they had happened, and detailing them clearly, step by step, Alastair’s gentle countenance firmed into a frown.
“Let me take a closer look,” he said. “This should not be. Just...no. It should not be.”
“Alastair.” Lucas spoke firmly, attracting the other man’s attention. “From what I’m hearing, this matter of Lady Yardley’s, might dovetail with the problem I’m having, as well.”
He looked up, noticing that Lucas and Verity were regarding each other with a dash of haughty confusion.
“I find it hard to imagine you with a problem similar to mine, sir.” Verity’s chin rose a bit.
“And yet here we are. But your issue seems to be with an account at the Arcvale Bank.”
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
