“Now then,” Ben started, sinking into the seat at his father’s desk. Jacques stood guard behind him. “What’s this debt you think I owe?”
“Gold,” Hugo snapped, crossing the room.
So much for civility. Ben thought, then asked. “Gold? I’m afraid we don’t have any of that lying around here.”
Hugo’s face pulled taut with impatience. “Don’t lie! Your father said—”
“My father may have said it, but I have never heard mention of any gold,” Ben said.
There was a whisper of it being somewhere, if his father thought to mention it in his will. Regardless, that wasn’t a detail Ben was willing to share. It suddenly made sense why Beline was so upset at being absent during the reading. He was right to make his earlier assumptions, it seemed.
“You will not play me for a fool.” Hugo snarled.
Ben narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Monsieur Marchand, I would advise you to lower your voice and maintain some semblance of propriety. I wouldn’t want to have you escorted out in front of all the mourners and your fiancée’s family.”
Hugo paused. That struck a chord.
“It would be quite humiliating, don’t you think?” Ben pressed.
“Have it your way.” He bottled up his anger and held himself rigidly. Through tight lips he said, “Your father promised us gold as payment.”
“Payment?” Ben asked, more curious than before. “For what?”
“We made an arrangement.” Hugo cleared his throat and straightened himself, though the chip on his shoulder remained. “And signed a contract.”
“I see. Do you happen to have said contract?” Ben pressed his lips together, thoughtful as he watched Marchand sweat. There were questions Ben wanted to ask about the business they’d been tangled up in, but there was satisfaction in self-discovery. Ben leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and waited.
“Not presently.” Hugo swallowed.
“Interesting.” Ben brought his hands to the desk and splayed his fingers over the disorganized papers. “Unfortunately, without proof, I can’t help you.”
Hugo frowned. “But I—”
“Monsieur Marchand, I returned home to bury my father, whom I have not seen in years,” Ben grew serious as he spoke. “I have no knowledge of his work or what debts he owes. I’ve hardly been home a full day and already the dogs are at my door, barking for their share of a dead man’s fortune.”
Behind Ben, Jacques grunted.
“That’s hardly my problem.” Hugo grimaced.
“Correct, Monsieur. It is my problem,” Ben said, his words hard and bitter. “As well as Madame Leone’s.”
Hugo softened again at the mention of Remi. Perhaps he was fond of her after all, Ben thought.
“Listen, I don’t consider myself an unreasonable man, so I will look into my father’s work to find a solution,” Ben said. “But it would make things easier if you were amicable, for Madame Leone’s sake. Do you find this agreeable?”
Hugo watched him as the gears in his mind turned. “This is important.” Hugo struggled to keep his expression neutral, but the mask was slipping.
“You see, I am only appointed half of my father’s estate, with the other half belonging to her.” Ben watched Hugo’s hold finally loosen. “While I would hate to get her involved, I’m afraid I have to bring her into the fold. That said, if you would like to spare her the trouble of looking further, given that her husband has passed, you might grant me more time on my own to do some digging.”
“Fine,” Hugo snapped. “Fine.”
“Worry not. I’ll look into this, Monsieur Marchand.” Ben would look into it, just not for Hugo. He couldn’t care less what debts they felt they were owed. No one would wrest a single cent from his father. “Rest assured that any dealings my father negotiated before his passing will be handled with the utmost care. Whatever I find, I will honor—given the state of its import.”
Ben locked eyes with Jacques and jerked his chin toward the door. He nodded and sauntered toward the double oaks and pushed one open softly. Hugo watched with narrowed eyes.
“Please convey my thoughts to Monsieur Cuvilyé.”
“I will,” Hugo said stiffly.
“Good.” Ben feigned a smile, feeling somewhat smug as Hugo slumped. “Jacques will show you out.”
Without another word, Hugo hurried out of the study and bypassed Jacques entirely. The minute he was gone, Ben let out a deep breath.
“He’ll be more trouble for you later on,” Jacques said plainly.
Ben frowned, pushing himself up from his father’s desk. “Less so if I manage to get my father’s affairs in order.”
Both men entered the hallway, closing the study door behind them. They walked slowly, voices just above a whisper as they spoke. “Does this warrant a conversation with Madame Leone? Perhaps she knows?”
“No.” Ben thought back to her confusion in the study earlier that morning. It seemed to him that his father kept her separate from anything to do with their finances. “She wouldn’t know anything.”
“Seems strange,” Jacques said.
Ben spied Remi bobbing between some of the mourners. She had shed her veil completely, curling tendrils of blonde hair framing her hardened face. She looked one taut string away from losing her grip entirely. He was so focused on her wavering expressions and blue-green eyes that he completely missed what Jacques said to him.
“Did you hear me?” Jacques asked, his brows pulled together in concern.
“My apologies.” Ben blinked. “What were you saying?”
