Annabel ran her finger down the entries, made in Jasper’s hand, until she found the latest amounts for the kitchen.

“His lordship has marked down thirty pounds for food this month. Up from twenty, which is to be expected with our marriage and the expectations of the Season.” It was also plenty to provide fresh, prime food.

“Thirty pounds?” The housekeeper dropped into the nearest chair. “My lady, I was given twenty. And on the months he had allotted twenty, I was lucky to get fifteen. I give you my word.”

“And I trust that word, Mrs. Wright. Leave it to me to decipher.” Annabel gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “His lordship and I will resolve this matter when he returns home this evening.”

If he returned home while she was awake.

“Thank you, your ladyship.” Mrs. Wright left in a whisper of skirts, her back straight and her shoulders square.

Once alone, Annabel swept back to the beginning of the ledger, looking for the point when Jasper had inherited. His stark, straight figures were easy to decipher. The strokes reminded her of her husband himself, and it doubled her focus. Jasper’s open manner often masked something he wanted to hide.

The only new expense was a regular payment to Kit Yarwood—not much more than Stapleton’s salary. Annabel had thought he and Jasper were merely friends, but who paid their friends a salary?

Stapleton cleared his throat. “I don’t believe Mrs. Wright to be a thief.”

“Neither do I, but I want the evidence to submit to his lordship.” Annabel reviewed the housekeeper’s ledger and receipts, noting the dates and amounts. Always five to ten pounds less than the amounts in the ledger, but always exact. “Do you have receipts for other expenses?

“Yes, your ladyship.” Stapleton left, only to return with a ledger of his own.

They worked together then, comparing the amounts spent on the household to the amounts in Jasper’s ledgers. The shortages were obvious. “There is no reason for him to steal from himself,” she whispered.

He also couldn’t finance a rebellion on twenty pounds a month.

“Does his lordship give you the funds directly, Stapleton?”

“I do not. My man of business manages payments.” Jasper dropped his coat on the chair nearest the door. His waistcoat had a wide patch of gold splayed across it like a flag. “But I would like to know why my wife is reviewing my finances.”

Chapter Thirteen

His wife was at his desk reading his ledgers while his butler looked over her shoulder. The chair loomed behind her like a throne, and she had an ink smudge across the bridge of her nose.

Her day dress was stitched with daisies, and the green ribbon beneath her breasts matched the flowers’ stems. It was a lovely distraction from the task at hand.

“You need a new man of business.”

Of all the things she could have said, he hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“Your man of business is skimming from the budget before he delivers the funds to your staff.”

Jasper strode behind the desk to stand over her shoulder, opposite Stapleton. This couldn’t be possible. Gerald Jones had been the family’s man of business for years. He was older than King Arthur. “Show me.”

As Annabel and Stapleton laid out their discoveries, Jasper drew up a chair and pushed his hand through his hair. “How long?”

“I’ve only reached the point when you inherited,” Annabel said.

Manners dictated that Jasper tell her about the ink on her nose, but he liked it there. Just as he liked imagining the scent of her perfume soaking into the fabric of his chair. “Did you find anything else?”

Kit would have his head if he didn’t ask that question. Though he wasn’t certain why Kit thought he’d be daft enough to keep a running tally of the money they’d spent in Cardiff mixed in with the household accounts.

Annabel smiled up at the butler. “Thank you, Stapleton. His lordship will let you know how to move forward.”

Once they were alone, she faced Jasper, elbows on the chair and fingers steepled in front of her. “I haven’t noticed anything here, but…” Her cheeks colored as she chewed on her bottom lip. “While we were in Ramsbury, I accidentally saw one of your grandfather’s old ledgers.”

After scaling twice his height to haul it from the topmost shelf.

The color in her cheeks deepened. “Forgive me, Jasper, but your grandfather didn’t invest a great deal in the tenants’ holdings or in improvements.”

Irritation burbled under his skin. He hadn’t always agreed with his grandfather, but the old man had managed his estates well. “He believed tenants took more pride in their homes if they worked for things rather than being given them.”

“That works well for children, but your tenants aren’t children. They are trying to manage their farms and raise their families. If Mr. Jones was skimming from your grandfather, they were doing it on a pittance while still trying to pay rent.”

“We should audit those accounts as well.” Jasper raked his hand back through his hair and winced at the bruises he had anticipated. “And I’ll terminate Jones’s firm right away.”

If Jones couldn’t be trusted, and Kit wasn’t here, there were damned few choices for a replacement. Parliament, Society, and spying left him precious little time to find one, and next to no time to do it himself.

He stared at his wife. Ink on her nose, practically buried in bookkeeping and figures, she’d never looked more at home. It was an unorthodox situation, but…

“Until I find a new firm, would you mind stepping forward to help?”

“I’m here, and you’re busy with other things. It makes sense.” Annabel corked the ink pot. “Though most husbands would balk at having their wives in their accounts. Not to mention in their chair.” She pushed backward, intending to stand, and the correspondence he’d ignored since before their wedding tumbled to the floor. “Jasper, many of these are unopened.”

He knelt to scrape the notes from the carpet. “There’s been no time to hire a secretary.” Kit had brought several for interviews, but Jasper hadn’t liked any of them.

“Isn’t that Mr. Yarwood’s position?”

“No. He would loathe spending all day at a desk. He’d rather be moving about gathering information.” Jasper gulped. “About London. He didn’t spend much time in town before the war, so he’s making up for lost time.”

It was difficult to keep his head around her, to remember what he shouldn’t say. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice if he kept talking.

“Kit’s more a retainer than anything.” That seemed a better explanation than bodyguard, which Jasper felt made him sound either self-important or afraid of his own shadow. It also risked piquing Annabel’s interest about why he needed a protector or, worse, frightening her. “He’s fun to have around.”

“So definitely not a secretary.”

That impish grin of hers would be his undoing. Not to mention how her eyes sparkled when she teased him. It was difficult to imagine anyone who looked at him like that wanted him to hang.

I will find the truth, she’d told Spencer. It occurred to him that this was a perfect opportunity to help her do just that. “Could you help with that as well? Just until Kit can find someone more suitable.”

When Kit learned what Jasper had done, he would drag the first young man off the street and teach him to read, if necessary.

Annabel’s smile wobbled, and Jasper worried he’d overstepped.

“Suitable?” she whispered.

“Most wives would rather not spend their time reading their husband’s correspondence.” Jasper’s will failed him. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket before gently grasping her chin. “But you aren’t like other wives.” He wiped the ink from her nose and chuckled as her cheeks reddened.