Nothing Compares to the Duke by Christy Carlyle

Author:Christy Carlyle
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2020-05-25T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“There must be some way I can be of use.” Rhys sat on the edge of a wingback in his father’s study, bootheel thumping against the carpet as he watched Bella peruse a ledger with care and patience. “Give me something to do.”

How could she sit hunched over staring that long at a page without her eyes blurring? The lack of movement alone would have had him out of his chair and fencing shadows just to get some blood pumping in his veins.

She lifted her head and looked at him when he began tapping his heel against the carpet.

“You could take notes as I find things of interest.” She gestured toward a piece of foolscap at her elbow. “I’ve started but it might work better if you assist.”

Anything but sitting useless on his arse.

“Of course I will.” He stood and dragged the wingback closer to the desk.

Bella pushed the notes she’d begun toward him, then the ink pot and a pen. Once he took a seat, she met his gaze a moment. He couldn’t read her thoughts as easily as he once had, and there was some inscrutable emotion brewing in her pretty green-gold eyes.

“Ready?” she asked, returning her gaze to the columns of numbers and notations.

“Always.” Rhys caught the flicker of her thick lashes as she glanced at him once more out of the corner of her eye.

“There was a significant purchase in June of last year,” she told him. “A cottage called Tide’s End at the seaside. Near Margate. Did you know anything about it?”

“Nothing at all. Father and I didn’t keep in touch.”

She shot him a curious frown. “Was there a falling-out?”

“You know how he felt about me.” Rhys didn’t need to explain. She’d seen enough. Heard the epithets his father tossed his way. “When I went to London, we stopped speaking. But a seaside cottage is far too whimsical for him. He never liked the seaside and he wasn’t keen on spending money on anything but fashion and frivolity.”

“He purchased property in London too.” She flipped through the ledger’s pages. “Back in October of last year. A town house in Gordon Square.”

“That makes no sense.” Rhys shook his head as he noted the fact on the foolscap. “My father owned Claremont House in Belgravia and a second town house in Grosvenor Square inherited from an uncle. He had no need of more London property.”

“Perhaps he rented them for income.” She tapped her finger against her lower lip. “Yet there are no notations indicating rent from either property.” Her eyes widened as she continued scanning the page. “Here’s another one. It’s so strange.”

Rhys leaned closer. “Another property?”

“No. One month after the purchase of both the seaside property and the London town house, there are a series of errors in the running total that subtracts nearly a thousand pounds. It’s too obvious.”

“So not errors?”

“I don’t think so. Mr. Radley’s mistakes are strategic. There’s a pattern and the errors are always to the detriment of the dukedom’s accounts. If it was by chance, you’d think he’d accidentally add funds on occasion.

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