Page 51 of A Perfect Gentleman

“He was a very handsome man,” Abigail agreed. In truth, the main thing she remembered about him was that she thought to herself that this was how Graeme would look when he was older. “And quite pleasant.”

“Yes. If you do not remember him well, my grandmother will be happy to expound on his charm. There was, apparently, none who could equal his manners or his expertise on the dance floor or his seat on a horse.”

“I believe mothers often feel that way about their sons.”

“Yes. But she is right. Ladies loved him—and he loved them in return. He wasn’t faithful to my mother. A very minor fault in my grandmother’s eyes—at least he was usually discreet. Most felt that way, I suppose. But I had seen how my mother cried over his ‘indiscretions’ and I could not be so forgiving. I swore I would never be like him.

“He was foolish and feckless, and he could not understand why I couldn’t see that art and jewels and horses and elegance were more important than something so mundane as the state of our finances. He told me one would think I was in trade, the way I nattered on about his spending.”

Abigail let out a mocking gasp. “A grievous insult!”

Graeme shrugged. “To him it was. As frivolous as he was about many things, the title was important to him. The Parr name. That was why I was so shocked by what he had done. He was careless about money and his wedding vows, but he was a man of his word, and he had a strong code of conduct. He would have called himself a man of honor. I could hardly believe he had done something so disgraceful.”

“So you would not be surprised if he had not been the one to embezzle the money?”

“No. I would have firmly believed it was stolen by someone else if Father had not said what he did to me.”

“Saying one is responsible is not precisely the same as saying he did it himself,” Abby pointed out.

“That’s true.”

“Would he have taken the blame for someone else?”

“I wouldn’t think so. For my mother, yes, or my grandmother, or even me, someone he felt he had a duty to protect. But one thing I am certain of is that none of us embezzled the money. On the other hand . . . he was in charge of the fund. He was responsible for it. If it disappeared ‘on his watch,’ so to speak, he might very well view it as his fault. He would feel that he was honor-bound to replace the money no matter who took it.”

“He wouldn’t have turned the matter over to the police?”

“No, I think Mrs. Baker was right in that. He would have wanted to keep the whole matter secret, whoever the culprit was. Avoiding scandal would have been his first priority. An investigation would have made it all public.” He sighed. “I wish now I had talked to him about it, that I’d asked him the details.”

“I wonder . . .”

Graeme turned to look at her. “What?”

“What if we were to look into it?” As Graeme’s eyebrows shot up, Abby went on hastily. “I don’t mean bring the authorities into it. I mean us, you and me. Are there any records from that charity?”

“I suppose so. Our family isn’t apt to throw things away. There might be some old files—correspondence, maybe even the financial records. But I’m not sure how they would prove anyone else embezzled the money.”

“Mr. Baker figured it out somehow. It’s possible he did so from working on your father’s financial records. And if Mr. Baker knew of it, there might have been others, as well. We could talk to some of the other people who were in the organization. I presume you never questioned any of them.”

“No. It never occurred to me; I thought Father was the one who had committed the crime. But I doubt anyone’s going to confess to it.”

“Probably not. But people might have suspicions that they would share with you. You’re one of their own, after all.”

“It would make no difference now,” he said slowly. “I could do nothing because of the scandal.”

“But wouldn’t you like to know anyway?”

“You’re right.” Graeme smiled at her. “I would.”

Abby settled back against the seat. She realized that in the course of talking, she had forgotten to let go of Graeme’s hand. He made no move to pull away. Neither did she.

chapter 18

“Well.” Abby cast her eyes around Graeme’s study. “Where should we start?”

Graeme leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded, watching her, a faint smile on his lips. Her eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm; clearly, Abigail was a woman who enjoyed a hunt.

How had he not noticed ten years ago the way her eyes lit up? Or how kissable her plump lips were, how lustrous her thick black hair. Could she have changed this much over the years? Had she hidden her emotions before? Her wit? Or had he simply been blinded by his rage? His love for Laura?