Once they knew the truth, then the matter would cease to be one of suspicion.
Francesca had not long been alone before the quiet of the house was broken once more, this time with a decisiveness that suggested purpose rather than courtesy. Nelly appeared at the door with a look that required no explanation.
“Major Manners, miss.”
Francesca did not permit herself to hesitate. “Show him in.”
She remained where she stood by the desk, the ledgers still spread before her, although now arranged with deliberate care rather than agitation.
Major Manners entered without flourish, though there was nothing uncertain in his manner. He bowed, but only briefly, as if ceremony had been acknowledged and set aside in the same motion.
“Miss Vale.”
“Major Manners.”
He did not take a seat at once. His gaze moved quickly—first to her face, then to the desk, then back again.
“Has something new occurred?” he asked.
There was no attempt to soften the question; no polite preamble. It was the directness of a man accustomed to receiving truth without ornament.
Francesca shook her head. “No, nothing new. At least, not in the sense you mean.”
“Then your note?—”
“I must have proof,” she said, before he could complete the thought, “nothing more.”
He studied her for a moment, as though weighing whether that answer satisfied him. “It did not read as ‘nothing more’,” he said.
He removed his gloves and set them upon the table, then took the chair opposite her without waiting to be asked. “Please explain,” he said.
Francesca rested her hands lightly upon the desk, willing them to remain still. “I have spoken with Mr. Kendall this morning.”
Major Manners’ expression did not change, but his attention was intense. “To what end?”
She exhaled slowly. “I did not confront him. I did precisely as you advised. I was careful.”
“Did you speak about the discrepancies?”
“No, about what support might mean,” she corrected. “I told him I wished to contribute to the cause.”
Major Manners’ gaze did not leave her face. “What did he say?”
“That there were publications requiring patronage, speakers who might benefit from support, and meetings that must be sustained.” She gave a small, humourless smile. “It all sounded very innocent.”
“On the surface, I imagine it would.”
She turned slightly and indicated the ledger.
“Why, then,” she said, her voice tightening despite her effort to remain composed, “would he steal from me? Why not simply ask?”
Major Manners did not answer immediately. The silence that followed was not empty. It was considered.
At last he said, “You may not like the answer.”
Francesca met his gaze. “I fear I am beyond such liking.”
He inclined his head once, acknowledging the truth of that. “If he asked plainly,” he said, “he would have to accept refusal.”
