He intentionally stayed close to her, his thigh pressed against hers, her arm just in front of his. At her proximity and her fresh spring scent, he was nearly overwhelmed with the need to pick her up and carry her back up to his bedroom, but he reminded himself that he was a respectable duke and she was asking for his help with something she obviously deemed important, and he should too.
He had to get himself together.
“The names all have corresponding pages,” she was saying when he returned his focus to her words. He followed her finger down the page, wishing it were on his skin instead, before chastising himself.
Again.
“Here,” she said. “Lord Eastclere. Lord Norwood. Other men whose names I don’t recognize. And I assume the Duke of Ravenscar noted on the first page is your father.”
Asher nodded slowly. Since he had become the duke, he had not taken part in any special committees, not like his father always had.
“The Marquess of Eastclere noted would also be the current Lord Eastclere’s father. He passed at nearly the same time mine did.”
He took some time to review what lay before him as Evelyn patiently sat next to him. He had spent enough time staring at account books over the past few years to quickly discover that something was wrong.
“Most of the pages are consistent, until we reach the entries regarding Lord Norwood,” he murmured. “His accounts are irregular, funds moving in ways designed to obscure theirorigin, but it seems whoever made these entries was aware of it and trying to determine what happened to funds that were unaccounted for.”
His jaw tightened as he tried to rein in his anger at the implication — this committee was clearly not what it said it was
“Can I see that?” he asked, and when she nodded, he picked it up and flipped through the first few pages.
He dug into his memories, trying to determine if he had heard anything about this particular committee.
His gaze fixed on the wall behind her head as he tried to remember his father saying anything about it, but he came up empty. He wondered if his brother had known. Probably. An old, familiar ache settled in his chest.
“What was your father’s involvement?”
“It looks like this was aprivateparliamentary committee,” he said. “It appears that the committee was reviewing foreign trade irregularities. Did something go wrong?”
“What is a private parliamentary committee?”
“Something that is quiet. Selective. Politically sensitive,” he said. “The committee would likely have existed to investigate precisely something like this — financial irregularities regarding one of their own. From what I can tell, this looks less like routine commerce and more like someone hiding illicit dealings.”
“So, the names in the ledger… these weren’t people on the committee,” she said, understanding dawning.
“No,” he said, coming to the same conclusion. “These were people they were investigating.”
“Your father doesn’t have any entries, which means he was one of those investigating, while Norwood was one of those under scrutiny.”
“You think Norwood could have done something untoward?” Asher asked, staring at her as a feeling of unease filled his stomach.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. Most certainly not, knowing who he selected as his wife,” she said with a shiver.
“But this… this could be treason.”
Evelyn stared at him, her gaze unreadable as she placed her hand over his.
“Asher,” she said slowly, deliberately, “what happened to your father?”
Asher took a shaky breath. It wasn’t as though this wasn’t public knowledge, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed talking about it.
The air in the room shifted, and Asher waited a minute to answer her, appreciating that she didn’t push or try to fill the silence, but rather waited patiently.
He looked away, his hands flipping the pages of the ledger, even though he wasn’t actually looking at them.
The silence stretched, heavy but respectful, until he finally spoke, the familiar waves of pain, anger, and grief streaking through him.
“My father died in a riding accident,” he said, proud of himself for reining in his emotions and speaking in such a controlled manner.
