Page 17

“Quiet,” she warned and, with both hands, shooed him down the steps.

Over her shoulder, she called, “I’m just stepping out to take a turn around the park, Mama.

I’ll be back shortly.” She closed the door quietly behind her, then waved Jordan back even more insistently and joined him on the pavement.

“Just in case someone looks out, we need to make this look normal.” She looped her arm in his and would have towed him to the park if he’d resisted.

Jordan didn’t resist but willingly paced beside her as they walked sedately across the street and passed into the park. Although the large trees were not yet in full leaf, there were bushes aplenty to screen them from the house.

Ruth glanced back once, then murmured, “I don’t want Mama to hear this—she worries enough as it is.”

“About what?” Jordan asked.

“Us,” Ruth replied. “Everything to do with the family.” She pointed to a bench set in an alcove created by thick bushes. “There will do.”

Jordan obligingly directed his steps in that direction.

When they reached the bench, Ruth released his arm and, drawing in her blue-cambric skirts, sat.

She seemed impatient for Jordan to join her, yet once he had, she hesitated as if having second thoughts about what she’d intended to say.

Jordan held his tongue and didn’t press. In his experience, sensible women were best left to make up their own minds.

Eventually, Ruth glanced at him, a frown in her eyes. “Did you and Mrs. Adair find anything in Thomas’s ledgers to explain why he contacted your employer?”

Jordan couldn’t see any reason not to tell her the truth. “No. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything seemed to be stultifyingly above board.”

To his surprise, she slumped slightly as if that hadn’t been the news she’d hoped to hear. He watched as she bit her lower lip, her expression plainly stating that she was wrestling with some momentous decision.

With her conscience, perhaps.

As before, Jordan said nothing and simply waited.

Eventually, her expression cleared. She raised her head slightly, and her chin firmed.

“As you already know, I keep the accounts—the actual ledgers—for Thomas’s business.

” She met Jordan’s gaze. “I also keep the family accounts—all of them. I go over them weekly, always on a Friday. As usual, I went over them last Friday, and I noticed…” She paused to fortify herself with a restricted breath.

“That Gibson hadn’t been leeching here and there from the rest of us as he usually does. ”

Jordan frowned slightly. “Leeching?”

“Gibson is a closet spendthrift—he pretends to get by on his allowance, but he’s constantly ‘borrowing’ from the rest of us to cover his expenses.

A crown or two here, ten shillings there, that sort of thing.

It usually shows in the individual accounts I keep for each member of the family.

” She paused, then added, “When my father passed and we realized how financially strained the family truly was, Thomas and I instituted an internal accounting system so that we could keep tight control over the household’s and each family member’s spending.

It was very necessary when we first started doing it, and because of that, we’ve never really stopped, even though those straitened financial times are behind us. ”

Jordan nodded his understanding and didn’t interrupt.

After a second of staring at him, Ruth continued, “Last Friday, I noticed that we were all tracking as per our expected expenses and, for instance, Mama wasn’t down three guineas, those being unaccounted for because she’d slipped them to Gibson when he’d pleaded for help.

” She sighed. “I’m equally guilty of giving in to his begging, and even Thomas and Bobby sometimes help him out. All on the quiet, of course.”

“But last week, nothing?” Jordan asked.

Ruth nodded. “But I’ve recently seen Gibson with a new silver-headed cane, which he shouldn’t have been able to afford.

Not without our help. And then there were his new top hat and silk cravats and a new leather wallet to be accounted for.

I looked back over the earlier weeks and discovered that I had to go back two full months before Gibson’s previous drain on our individual accounts was evident.

And there’s nothing in his account to explain where he’s been getting the cash for his recent extravagances. ”

Jordan felt increasingly grave. “So you’re saying that Gibson has some unexplained source of funds.”

“Yes.” Ruth clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“I knew asking Gibson outright would be no use—he’d just wave the question aside.

So on Saturday, I explained what I’d found to Thomas.

I showed him the anomalies—the expenses that weren’t turning up in Gibson’s account but that we knew should be there. Like that cane.”

She drew in a deep breath and rushed on, “Thomas agreed with my conclusion that Gibson had to be getting money—cash—from somewhere, but from where and in exchange for what was a mystery. Thomas said to leave the matter to him, that he would find out what was going on.”

She paused, then said, “Despite appearances, Thomas was always the closest to Gibson. Even closer than Mama. Gibson was more likely to confess to whatever the situation was to Thomas than to anyone else.” She sighed.

“So I left the matter in Thomas’s hands.

” She glanced at Jordan. “And now, I have to wonder…”

Wondering, too, Jordan shifted his gaze to the lawn before them.

Ruth rushed to say, “I didn’t mention it before because, like you and the other investigators, I assumed that what Thomas had grown concerned over—the nefarious activities—was something to do with one of his clients.

But if it isn’t that…” She hauled in a breath and, pressing her palms together in her lap, declared, “I will never believe that Gibson killed Thomas. No matter how much they argued, they were brothers, family first and last, and they would have defended each other against the world. Gibson can be difficult to deal with at times, but it’s usually pride, not malice, behind his reactions. ”

That analysis aligned with Jordan’s in the wake of the investigators’ interview with Gibson.

“So”—Jordan brought his gaze back to Ruth’s strained face—“what do you think happened?”

Ruth exhaled. “Well, aside from all else, I don’t believe Thomas told Gibson anything about our suspicions.

If Thomas had done so, then by now, Gibson would have said something to me about prying into his affairs, and like me, Thomas wouldn’t have thought it worth his while directly taxing Gibson, not without first knowing what was going on.

” She paused, then, her voice firming, continued, “I think Thomas might have been investigating Gibson, as it were, seeking to identify the source of his extra funds.” She met Jordan’s gaze.

“If, in doing that, Thomas stumbled onto some situation…” She hurried to add, “It might not have anything to do with Gibson and his secret funds, but if in seeking the source, Thomas discovered something else…”

His gaze locked with hers, Jordan swiftly reviewed the timing of what Ruth had told him relative to Thomas sending his letter to Roscoe and Thomas’s murder.

Slowly, he nodded. “I agree that’s a possibility.

” He straightened. “That explanation would also answer the question of why now? Why had Thomas suddenly stumbled onto something he hadn’t noticed before? ”

After a moment of searching Ruth’s large blue eyes, Jordan gently said, “You’re going to have to tell the investigators.”

She looked down at her clenched fingers, then she heaved a sigh and, after a moment, nodded.

“I don’t want to, but I know I must.” She grimaced and, from beneath her lashes, cast him a swift glance.

“I’m going to feel horrendously guilty if me telling Thomas about Gibson’s unexplained funds somehow led to Thomas being murdered. ”

Impulsively, Jordan reached across and closed a hand about her clasped ones.

“Don’t. You can’t blame yourself. You might have warned Thomas about Gibson’s extra funds, as in the circumstances you should have done, but from that point onward, Thomas made his own decisions.

Sadly, it seems he trusted someone he shouldn’t have, but that someone is responsible for his death, not you. Not in any way.”

Her half smile was wan, but suggested that she found his assertion comforting.

Jordan lightly squeezed her clasped hands, then released them.

After a moment, she cleared her throat and rather huskily asked, “How should I approach the investigators? Should I call at Scotland Yard?”

“No need.” Jordan smiled at her encouragingly. “We’re meeting at the Adairs’ house at nine tomorrow morning. If you like, I can call here at eight-thirty and escort you there.”

Relief eased the lines in her face. “That would be…helpful.” She glanced toward the house. “I don’t want to worry Mama or Bobby, so I’ll say I’m going shopping”—she returned her gaze, now more at ease, to Jordan’s face—“and wait for you here.”

Penelope was sitting in her drawing room with Barnaby and Stokes when the front doorbell pealed, and a minute later, Jordan ushered Ruth Cardwell through the doorway.

Along with the men, Penelope bounced to her feet. “Miss Cardwell. Welcome! Do join us.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Adair.” Ruth nodded gravely to Barnaby and Stokes and exchanged murmured greetings.

Penelope directed Ruth to the sofa opposite the one Penelope and Barnaby habitually occupied, then cast an intrigued and questioning look at Jordan as he moved to sit beside Ruth.

Jordan obliged with “Miss Cardwell has some information that she and I believe you need to hear.”

Even more intrigued, Penelope returned to her position on the sofa, and the men sat.