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Dawson was an expert at accounting and numbers. But still, Conor had no desire to make his job harder by distracting him. He poured two glasses of scotch and carried them to the table, where he set one down before his solicitor.

Dawson picked up the scotch and took a sip but said nothing.

Well, that was fine.I don’t hire a solicitor in order to receive compliments on my liquor offerings, Conor reminded himself.I have my clientele for that. He is here to manage the books, nothing more.

Conor took a seat at the table. He had been thinking for days now about his plan to give Henry a larger stake in the club, and he was very excited to get things underway. As soon as he had verified with Dawson that his finances were in order, he would be able to move forward.

They sat in silence for some time. Conor drained his glass of scotch and tried to keep from fidgeting, from letting Dawson see how eager he was to discuss things.

Finally, Dawson looked up from his figuring. He turned the book to face Conor and pointed to a circled number. “There. Your profits for this month.”

Conor blinked.

He was no accountant, but he was smart enough to recognize patterns. The Arc usually brought in half again above the number he was looking at now. It was as if a third of his usual profits were just…gone.

What happened?He thought back over the last month.Did we do less business?He didn’t think so. He had been questioning that very thing since his confrontation with Killian O’Flannagan, trying to determine whether his rival’s tactics had worked. But The Arc seemed to be doing just as well as always.

Perhaps we spent more money than usual?He would have to discuss that with Henry in order to be sure. But that didn’t feel right either. After all, his bartender had told him that they were serving the same scotch as they always had, and nothing else had so much as seemed new to Conor.

Where did all my profits go?

“I don’t understand,” he managed, looking up at Dawson. “This is much less than I’ve come to expect from a typical month at The Arc. Why is it so low?”

“Some months are slower than others,” Dawson said, examining the grain of the table. “It’s a normal part of doing business, My Lord. Surely you’ve encountered a slow month before?”

Conor had. But never anything like this. And always before, he had been expecting the drop in profits. Always before there had been some change in the business itself that had hinted at what he could expect when his books were balanced.

This month there had been nothing.

“Let me see.” He pulled the book toward him. Dawson let it go somewhat unwillingly.

The columns of numbers were nearly indecipherable. “Where is my income?” Conor asked.

Dawson pointed to a row of numbers. “Here, My Lord. This is broken down by day, you see?”

Conor examined the numbers carefully. They were all comparable—no one day had been much slower than any of the others—and the total number at the bottom of the column was similar to others he was used to seeing in these discussions. “It looks as though I brought in the same amount of money as last month, and the month before,” he commented.

“Does it?” Dawson swallowed anxiously. “I’m afraid I can’t remember those figures, My Lord.”

Conor flipped back a page in the book, to the previous month’s numbers. “Here we are,” he said. “Look, I actually brought in a little bit more than last month.”

“So then the difference must be in—in expenses.” Dawson definitely looked nervous, Conor thought. Perhaps he was beginning to realize he had made a mistake?

“Show me the expenses,” Conor suggested.

Dawson pointed to another column of numbers. “Operating costs. You had to pay your employees, as ever, and you had to keep your supply stocked…it’s the same thing from month to month.”

“But this is higher than last month.” Conor frowned and flipped back to the prior month. “There’s a huge deduction. Right here.” He tapped the number with his finger.It’s the exact amount that seems to be missing, he realized. “What was this for?”

“I…I’m afraid I’m not sure, My Lord.” Dawson was definitely sweating now. He loosened his shirt collar and refused to make eye contact with Conor.

Conor frowned. He was, admittedly, not a very good accountant, but something was clearly wrong here. And hewasgood at recognizing suspicious behavior. “Tell the truth, Dawson,” he said. “I think you know something about this number. What did I pay for this month that I didn't pay for last month?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Dawson said. He got to his feet, sending his chair toppling over backward in the process. “My Lord, if you’ll forgive me, I have other clients to see today.”

“Stay where you are,” Conor said sharply.

Dawson froze.