Mr. Mayhew, having satisfied his clients’ demands, grinned broadly and announced the preliminary papers arranging for the deposit were in order as well and the duke may begin filling out the documents.
“I have changed my mind,” Kesgrave said as he stood up.
At this communication, the banker’s smile dimmed and he regarded the duke with apprehension. “You would like something else to drink? A glass of madeira, perhaps? I find arrack is a trifle strong when not made into a punch. Herbert could fetch brandy. Or maybe an ale?”
“I have no inclination to linger further,” Kesgrave explained, “so you may send the documents to my steward for perusal. Mr. Stephens is knowledgeable and efficient and will handle the matter. Thank you for your time.”
“Oh, but you can’t…” Mr. Mayhew began but trailed off as he realized it was not in his best interest to tell the Duke of Kesgrave what he could or could not do. He bowed his head deferentially and conceded it was the far more practical plan. “I should have proposed it myself, your grace.”
In point of fact, he had, and it was, Bea thought, a rather damning indictment of the nobility that he knew neither guest would correct him. Every peer no doubt believed that all the best ideas where his.
As the duke walked to the door, Bea scooped up the remaining macarons—there were four left—and cradled them delicately in her gloved hands. “Yes, Mayhew, thank you for your time, and I do hope you accept my apology for causing you so much inconvenience.”
“It is my pleasure to be inconvenienced by you, your grace,” he said smoothly before urging her to do so at any time.
Bea smiled blandly.
Inevitably, he insisted on escorting them to their carriage and highlighting the building’s important architectural features, such as the James Payne rotunda, which could not be built today, for its construction was far too complicated and expensive. “It required several hundred men,” he explained.
Although Bea knew the claim immediately to be false, for she had read several books on architecture, including Colin Campbell’s Vitruvius Britannicus, or The British Architect: Containing the Plan, Elevations, and Section of the Regular Buildings, Both Publick and Private, in Great Britain, with Variety of New Design, she expressed amazement at the towering achievement.
Mr. Mayhew simpered in delight.
Delivered to their carriage, they were received by Jenkins, who had accompanied Miss Hyde-Clare on enough outings to know they were rarely innocuous errands.
“’Tis good to see you unharmed, your grace,” the coachman said cheerfully.
All it had taken to establish herself with Kesgrave’s groom was getting ruthlessly pummeled in the middle of the Strand, a process she (unfortunately!) could not repeat with the rest of the staff.
Climbing into the conveyance, she assured him it was good to be unharmed. Then she settled herself comfortably on the cushion and turned her attention to the macarons. When Kesgrave sat on the bench beside her, she held out her hand to offer him one, but he boldly plunged his hand down the front of her dress.
“In broad daylight, your grace…” she murmured chidingly.
Undaunted, he smoothly extracted the torn ledger sheet and examined it to see what she’d found so interesting. While she waited for him to spot the anomaly, she nibbled on the pastry.
It did not take long.
“He lied about Mr. Bayne,” he said, looking up from the page.
Bea nodded. “He lied about Mr. Bayne, who is in fact employed by Mayhew & Co., so he also lied about lying, which, while somewhat confusing, is also extremely suspicious and indicates that there is a terrible, dark secret here after all. Our next step is obvious: We must locate and interview Mr. Bayne to discover why Mr. Mayhew is determined to hide him. If he won’t tell us the truth, then we will coerce it from Mr. Bayne’s associates. Naturally, we will have to return to the bank to conduct the inquiry. As the Duke and Duchess of Kesgrave were quite blatant in their identities, they can neither return so quickly nor show inexplicable interest in a lowly clerk. Mr. and Mrs. Erskine, however, may do so without raising an eyebrow. Do let me hear your Scottish brogue so that I may make suggestions for how to improve it.”
But he was still examining the sheet and paid her no heed. “Bayne is drawing a very comfortable salary,” he observed. “At two hundred and forty pounds per annum, he can well afford to pay Mayhew’s sugar supplement.”
Bea nodded because the statement was accurate. Compared with the amount of money some of the other clerks at the bank made, it was an exceedingly generous income and Bayne could easily manage small luxuries like sweetener. But because she had a knack for remembering everything she read, she called up the ledger detailing the bank’s various expenditures and realized Mr. Bayne had not been included among the list of employees who paid the surcharge.
That list had contained only ten names.
Possibly, that was because the fourteen out of the twenty-four clerks employed by Mr. Mayhew refused on principle to pay for sugar at their place of work or preferred their tea plain or forewent the pleasure of tea or coffee entirely. It was certainly not unheard of for a man to have ale with breakfast.
But it was strange, Bea thought, that none of the generously compensated clerks like Bayne stood the lavish expense of the supplement. It was only the ones with parsimonious salaries who contributed: Herbert, for example, who earned just sixty pounds per year. Surely, if anyone was going to forego an indulgence it would be he?
Considering the great disparity in pay, she leaned over so that she could
