Page 62 of A Perfect Gentleman

“I’m saying you’re handsome.” Impulsively, Abby stretched up and kissed him, then broke away, running lightly up the steps to the terrace. Smiling, Graeme followed her.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, as they had many days before, searching for documents related to the Fund for Invalid Soldiers. They had worked their way outward from the central desk, sifting through a jumble of papers. Graeme’s father had not been an organized soul. Thinking of her own father’s perfectly ordered desk, Abby had to smile. The two men could not have been more different.

“There must be some order to the way he kept his records,” she said, gazing around the room. “Though I cannot imagine what it was.”

Graeme shrugged. “My father and I didn’t think alike, usually.”

“Well, where shall we start today? We have cabinets, trunks, bookcases.” She swept a hand toward one end of the room they had not yet explored.

Graeme considered the problem for a moment, then straightened, his face brightening. “You know . . .” He started toward the opposite wall.

“What?” Abby joined him in front of a sturdy chest. It was richly made, with some sort of emblem carved on either side of the fastenings.

“This is a regimental trunk. And that is the way my father might think.”

“Wha— Oh!” Her face cleared. “You mean because it was a fund for soldiers. So a regimental trunk.”

“We’ll see.” He bent down to open it and lifted out a shallow tray. Below were stacks of papers, as well as an account book. Graeme reached in and picked up the blue-backed book, opening it. On the inside, in a black, spidery hand, were the words Benevolent Fund for the Care of Invalid Soldiers.

“You found it!”

chapter 21

Abby leaned in to peer down at the open book in his hands. “Is that your father’s handwriting?”

“I don’t believe so. Just a minute.” He walked across the room to the desk.

Abby knelt on the floor beside the trunk and began to sort through the papers. “These all appear to be letters to various people.”

Graeme came back, carrying another account book, and sat down beside her. Handing her the charity’s book, he opened the other one to the title page.

“These are his personal accounts, so I know this is his hand.” They looked back and forth between the two.

“They’re not the same.”

“You’re right.” He turned the page to the numbers. “Now, the numbers, I’m not so sure about. They are rather similar.”

“No, look at this nine.” She pointed from one book to another. “They’re different.” Abby turned another page of the charity’s account book. “But, look, these numbers are in a different hand.”

“So two different people entered the figures.”

She looked at him. “That would indicate that someone else had access to the money, wouldn’t it?”

“At least in counting and entering the money they received. If they took small amounts, Father probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

Abby nodded. “True. But if it was taken to invest in the stock, it wouldn’t have been done over time like that. He would have needed a large amount at once. The most likely thing would be taking a sum out of the bank account.”

“Or perhaps receiving a large amount and not depositing it.” Graeme leaned back against the trunk, staring off into the distance in thought. “I never paid much attention. It was Father’s charity, and I never participated. But as I recall, they had events at which they raised money, like church fetes, that sort of thing. And at certain times they’d write around asking for donations.”

Abby perused the columns of figures. “Yes, there aren’t many entries, even though it covers several years. Several of them are in December in succeeding years. Here’s one that says ‘St. V.’ ”

Graeme looked over her shoulder. Unconsciously Abby leaned against him, and he curved his arm around her. “St. V is a church, I’d guess. Maybe they held some sort of money-raising thing there. St. Vincent, maybe?”

“Is that the village church?”

“No, that’s All Saints.”

“All Saints,” Abby repeated, pointing to another notation. “Here. AS.” She ran her finger down the lines. “Several initials like that, a couple of other Saints, here’s a Lord F.”