“That doesn’t take businesses into account, or those that make more than the minimum threshold. If we use our comparisons, he’s taking three shillings for every five hundred pounds.”
All totaled, her estimate was nearly one thousand pounds.
“If he’s taking that same amount from tariffs or any other fund, and there’s no reason to believe he isn’t, the amount could double. Perhaps triple.”
She tapped Fletcher’s scrawled figures. “This is what Spencer has taken.”
It was more than one thousand, but less than three. “Why did he write it down?”
“Force of habit, perhaps.” She dropped back in the chair. “A trophy, maybe. Proof of what he’d been able to do.” She stared beyond the light that encircled them. “I could understand that.”
Jasper stared at her work, formulating the presentation to the prime minister and then the battle for Graydon’s confession. Ruining Charles Melton’s reputation would be distasteful, but inevitable if they were to put an end to Spencer’s manipulations.
To make Parliament honest.
To make Annabel safe.
She was still checking her work, as he’d done before submitting exams. Everything she’d been through since their marriage had been a test. It had been months of new dresses, hateful gossip, running the household, treacherous ballrooms, and wrecked gardens. Not to mention thieving men of business, murderous highwaymen, and a bloody husband.
Now she’d invaded Westminster and come away with the last piece of their puzzle.
Jasper put a finger under her chin and lifted her face until he could see her weary eyes. “You are extraordinary, Annabel.”
Every time he kissed her, it was different. Tonight it was a slow exploration by two exhausted partners, the sweetness on her tongue augmented by a boldness he’d never tasted before. It ended when her stomach rumbled.
Jasper pulled away, laughing. “I knew you were hungry.” He stood and pulled her with him. “Let’s see if Cook left anything in the kitchen.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You might attempt to not look so happy with yourself,” Kit said.
Jasper wasn’t pleased with the job he had to do, but he was happy. They were writing the end of this chapter, and he could begin a new one.
Hopefully with his wife, whom he’d left sleeping.
“Lord Ramsbury? Lord Warwick? The prime minister will see you now.”
Kit stood and adjusted his coat and cravat. “It’s strange not to be in uniform.”
It was likely best that he didn’t have a saber at his hip. “We need you as a peer today, not a soldier.”
They followed the usher to Lord John’s inner office, where Lord Graydon and his son, Viscount Raines, were already waiting.
“What is the meaning of this?” the younger man asked. “We understood our meeting to be how our family could be of service to Her Majesty.” He flicked a glance at Kit. “To have the Chitester family included as well is—”
His father’s hand on his shoulder silenced him.
It also made him flinch.
“Please be seated, gentlemen,” the prime minister continued as though Raines had not spoken. “And we’ll begin.”
They followed his directions, sitting on opposite sides of the table. Jasper kept Annabel’s figures out of sight, waiting for the proper time.
“Lord Graydon.” The prime minister turned to the Melton side of the table first. “As treasurer, I believe you should be aware of a grave matter.” He paused. “The queen believes there is a thief in your office.”
The man’s reaction was limited to a twitch and a gulp. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. I will begin an investigation immediately.”
“There is no need. We asked Lord Ramsbury and Lord Warwick to undertake it on our behalf.” Lord John switched his attention to Jasper. “And they have completed their review.”
Jasper removed Annabel’s work from his pocket and unfolded the sharply creased sheets. “In this tax year alone, someone in your office has stolen over one thousand pounds from the Crown.”
“That is impossible,” Graydon bellowed. “How did you arrive at that figure?”
Jasper focused on the head of the table, on the man who had trusted him to find the truth, as he summarized Annabel’s conclusions. He only hoped that he remembered everything that was important.
“Prime minister, this is a fiction,” Graydon said. “Where did the marquess obtain any evidence for these wild numbers?”
“From the ledgers in your office, Lord Graydon, which are being removed as we speak.” Jasper kept his tone even, saving his wrath for the others in this scheme, the murderers and manipulators. “This is too consistent, too widespread, to be the work of multiple clerks, unless the whole of the Exchequer is involved.” Disappointment and sadness left a sour taste. “You, Charles.”
“It is ironic that Lord Ramsbury claims to have found a thief by being a thief himself,” Viscount Raines said. “Perhaps he has also become a forger to advance his political—”
Again, his father stopped him. Again, he flinched.
Kit drew a sharp inhale and leaned forward in his chair. His knuckles grew white.
“Charles,” Jasper began. “We have known each other for a long time. This may be your doing, but it isn’t you. Someone is behind this.”
