in the garden. Christopher kissed me. I should have slapped him, I suppose, but his kiss was definitely a ten.”
Perhaps that was so, but Lily couldn’t help thinking that if Royal Dewar ever kissed her, it would also be a ten.
Royal. She had never said his name aloud, but lately she had begun to think of him that way, as Royal, instead of His Grace or the duke. It was dangerous, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“So how was your ride?” she asked. “Aside from the kiss, I mean.”
Jocelyn’s lips thinned. “His bloody horse nearly threw me—that’s how it was. I couldn’t believe it. And he didn’t do anything about it.”
“What did you expect him to do?”
“It was the horse’s fault. I expected him to do something.”
Lily ignored the outburst. Jo rarely took the blame for anything that happened. Lily wasn’t surprised she would blame the horse. “Did you talk about anything interesting?”
Jocelyn shrugged. “He asked me if I could be happy here. I said that I could—as long as we also spent time in London.”
Lily thought of the lovely rolling fields, the yew forests and the stream that trickled along the edge of the garden. There was nothing she would like more than to live out here in the country. “I wonder when he’ll ask you to marry him.”
“Soon, I imagine. We’ll only be staying a week, perhaps less. Mother and I decided a shorter visit would be better. She thinks a six-month engagement will be long enough to make all of the arrangements for the wedding. I’m sure the duke will make a formal proposal before we leave for home.”
“You don’t sound terribly excited.”
“Oh, I will be—once our engagement is officially announced.” Lying on the bed, she scooted back until her shoulders rested against the elaborately carved wooden headboard. “Can you imagine what people will say? I shall be the envy of every woman in London.”
“That is certainly true enough, but have you given any thought to your feelings for the duke? Aren’t you the least concerned that you might not love him?”
Jo laughed. “Don’t be silly. I don’t believe in love. Besides, once I give him an heir, I can take a lover if I wish. I can choose whomever I want and perhaps I will fall in love with him.”
It seemed so coldhearted. Lily sank onto the stool in front of the dresser. “You can’t really mean that.”
“Oh, but I do. That is the way it works, cousin, in marriages that are arranged.”
Lily swallowed. “I see.” But she didn’t really see at all. She only saw that Royal would be marrying a woman who didn’t love him and had no intention of being faithful. The sick feeling returned to her stomach.
Royal headed down the hall and walked into his study. A man stood in front of his desk. He turned at the sound of Royal’s footfalls—medium height, a solid build, jet-black hair and hard, carved features.
“I presume you are Chase Morgan,” Royal said, speaking of the man he had hired to find out exactly what had happened to the Bransford fortune.
Morgan made a slight bow of his head. “At your service, Your Grace.”
“Have a seat.” Royal sat down behind his desk and the investigator sat down across from him. “You’ve brought news, I take it.”
“Indeed, very interesting news. I thought it might be more productive if we could discuss the matter face-to-face rather than trying to communicate by letter.”
“I appreciate that. So what have you discovered?”
Chase rose from the chair and retrieved a leather satchel Royal hadn’t noticed before. He set it on top of the desk. “May I?”
“Of course.”
The investigator opened the case, pulled out a sheaf of papers and spread them on the desk in front of him. “Each of these pages represents a company in which your father invested. There are millworks, railroads, shipping lines and various trading commodities.”
Royal grunted. “None of which managed to earn a shilling in return.”
“Exactly so.” Morgan singled out one of the papers and slid it in front of Royal. “The interesting thing isn’t so much which companies your father chose to invest in, it is who owned these supposed companies.”
Royal arched a brow. “Supposed?”
“That’s right. None remained in business for more than six months. Most were closed down sooner than that—if they were ever more than merely accounts on paper.”
“You are saying they were fraudulent?”
“That is the way it appears.”
His mind ran over the implications. “But you don’t know for certain.”
“Not yet.”
He tapped the paper. “How do we find out?”
Morgan pointed down at the paper. “We need to investigate the people listed as owners of these businesses—the Southward Mill, for instance, and the Randsburg Coal Mining Company. There are also corporations named that supposedly own shares in these businesses, which means we need to find out who owns those corporations, as well. I was hoping you might recognize some of the names, be able to tell me something we could use.”
Royal sat there a moment, trying to absorb the news as he scanned the list on the page. He reached for another sheet, and another, and finally shook his head. “I am sorry. I don’t recognize any of these names.”
“I didn’t really think you would, but it was worth a try.” Morgan sat forward in his chair. “What I need to know is how far you want me to take this?”
Royal tapped the paper. “If these investments were shams, then someone or several someones took advantage of my father in his weakened mental condition. I want to know who these men are.”
Morgan nodded. “All right. It may take some time, but sooner or later, I’ll find out who brought these investments to your father’s attention. There may be any number, but more likely just a greedy few who saw a golden opportunity and seized it.”
Royal stood up from his chair. “I want those names, Morgan. Do what it takes to find them.”
The investigator stood up as well, an imposing figure with his whipcord-lean body and thick black hair. “I’ll send word as soon as I have further news.”
Royal walked the man to the door of the study then watched him disappear down the hall. He’d had his suspicions that perhaps his father had been duped, but until today he hadn’t been sure.
Unconsciously, his jaw hardened. He would find out who was responsible for the terrible losses his family had suffered. The question then would become—what should he do?
Jocelyn sat in the Blue Drawing
