Page 64 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Aunt Tessa’s accuracy on matters of business is not something on which one can rely. Now if it was a hat she’d bought or a party she attended ten years ago, I’d take her word.”

“But Sir Laurence is dead, too, isn’t he?” Abby said. “Were he and your father friends?”

He let out a little huffing laugh. “No, I don’t think so . . . Albert Boddington. I think I’ve met him. Henry Bracewell—Lord, he’s passed on, too.”

“Graeme . . .” Abby frowned. “Doesn’t it seem as if a lot of these men have died? I mean, your father, James’s father, Mr. Ponsonby, Bracewell . . .”

“Colonel Rollins.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting that it had something to do with the charity? The embezzlement?”

“I don’t know. But it seems a little odd that so many men connected to it have died.”

“I am certain my father’s death was unrelated. He died from pneumonia one winter when he got caught out in the rain. Sir Laurence had a heart attack. I don’t know about the others. The thing is, they were all of an age with my father. Sir Laurence was older. And I believe Colonel Rollins was a good bit older than either one of them. Perhaps in any group that age, a number of them might die over the course of ten years.”

“Someone shot Mr. Baker.”

“True.” He frowned. “But there might have been any number of reasons someone wanted him dead. It wasn’t necessarily about this.”

“He was about to tell me the story behind the embezzlement.”

Graeme sat up straighter and ran his hands back through his hair. He gazed out the window as if it might hold some answer. “You’re saying that someone knew Baker was meeting you there that night, knew what he was going to say, and shot him right at the crucial moment when he was about to tell you? Seems like a tremendous run of luck on the shooter’s part.”

“He could have followed Baker. Perhaps Mr. Baker approached him also, saying he wouldn’t reveal the truth if this other man paid him.”

“He could just as easily have followed him for some other reason, or have seen him standing there beneath a streetlamp, an easy target, and decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“So you don’t think he was killed because he was going to tell me what happened?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know. But if Baker was trying to extort money from you or from this embezzler—who we aren’t sure even exists—he was likely to have done the same thing to other people. Perhaps about something more serious than an embezzlement of some charitable funds.”

“Especially one that took place ten years ago.”

“Precisely.” Graeme nodded. “The money was replaced. Who could even prove there had been a crime? There were no rumors, no gossip. As you pointed out, several of the board members aren’t even alive now. My father was the only person harmed, and we wouldn’t expose the thief because we’d only stir up a scandal.”

“Yes. It does seem unlikely to be worth killing anyone over.”

“I am beginning to wonder if we’ll be able to discover anything. The financial logs were no help; the letters don’t tell us anything.”

“We found the names of the people involved,” Abby pointed out. “We can talk to them; perhaps one of them might have information that would help us.”

“We’ll have to return to London for that.” Graeme did not appear enthused about the idea.

Abby was certain she was not. “Maybe it won’t take long, and we can come back home.”

“Then you like it here?” His expression sharpened.

“Yes.” Abby was surprised at his question. “Of course. Do you not? Do you prefer London?”

“No, Lydcombe Hall is my home.”

“You know . . . perhaps we should check some other places here, as well. There might be something stored in the attic, as there was in town.”

He smiled slowly. “I believe you’re right. We really ought to check the estate manager’s office, as well. Father might have put some of the records there. This could take a long time.”

Days turned into weeks, and in the end, it was over a month before they took the train back to London.

“Oh. You’re here again,” Lady Eugenia said when they walked into the drawing room of the London house, her voice tinged with such a lack of enthusiasm that Abby had to choke back a laugh.

“What a nice surprise!” Mrs. Ponsonby bounced to her feet, doing her best to counter the dowager countess’s tone. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”