Ignoring her tone, he entered the room. “What are you doing with the duke’s ledgers?”
“I’m tidying up, of course,” she said. “He had a number of them strewn on his desk, and he asked me to put them away.”
Mr. Bonham looked a bit suspicious still. “Can’t imagine why he’d need more than the current ledger.”
“I can’t either,” she said blithely. “Not that I would know anything about bookkeeping. It’s all Greek to me.”
“Is it?” He edged nearer the desk.
That was when she realized that her piece of paper, where she’d worked out what the true numbers were supposed to be, lay right there in plain sight.
But he hadn’t seemed to have noticed it yet. She walked back over to the desk as nonchalantly as she could manage. “I’m sure my husband will be here any minute. Would you like some refreshment? Tea? Coffee?”
Meanwhile, she slid the sheet of paper beneath the ledger, trying to be unobtrusive.
Apparently not unobtrusive enough, for Mr. Bonham loomed up next to the desk and said, “What’s that you’re hiding?”
“Hiding! Why would I be hiding anything?”
“That’s an excellent question,” he snapped. “Why would you?” And before she could even react, he slid the piece of paper out from under the ledger and into his hand.
He perused it carefully. Then he met her gaze. “The duke knows. Or at least suspects.”
“Knows what? Suspects what?” she said, fighting to appear flighty.
“You can stop pretending to be stupid now, Duchess. I am no fool. And I want to know everything you and the duke have figured out about my accounting practices.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as Sheridan’s coach pulled up in front of Armitage House, they spotted Bonham’s phaeton parked there and his groom sitting on a step awaiting his master. At the sight, Sheridan’s blood turned to ice.
Not bothering to wait for Joshua and Gwyn, as soon as the coach stopped, Sheridan leapt out and ran up the steps. When he entered, his butler said, “Oh, there you are, Your Grace. Mr. Bonham is awaiting you.”
“Awaiting me where?”
“In the parlor, of course. Since you hadn’t arrived yet, the duchess told me to put him there until you did.”
“Thank God,” Sheridan muttered and strode to the parlor they used for tradesmen and the like.
But it was empty.
Sheridan hurried back to the entryway. “He’s not there.”
“But . . . but that’s where I left him,” Phipps said.
“Apparently he didn’t stay put.”
Gwyn and Joshua entered, and Sheridan explained the situation.
“So he’s quite possibly alone with Vanessa,” Gwyn said.
“Yes.”
Sheridan turned for the hallway, but before he could march down it to his study, Joshua grabbed his arm. “We have to be smart about this. Remember the plan. We have no reason to believe that Bonham suspects anything. He’s been with all of us socially many a time. We might still find him chatting with Vanessa.”
“That’s what worries me. I told you, she thinks he’s simply a bad accountant. At worse, she suspects him of being an embezzler.”
“If she has even considered the possibility that he’s embezzling, she will hide her opinions. You need to learn to trust your wife, Sheridan. She has good instincts.”
Even knowing his brother-in-law was right, Sheridan could hardly keep from barreling down the hall and into his study with guns blazing. “It’s not her I distrust. Bonham didn’t get this far along—fooling everyone he came into contact with and killing those who caught on—without being both perceptive and deceptive. It has proved a deadly combination.”
Worry knit Gwyn’s brow. “I’ll go stay with Mama.” She turned to Phipps. “Where is my mother just now?”
Phipps was eyeing the two men with blatant curiosity. “The last time I saw her, my lady, she was in the music room.”
“Thank you, Phipps,” Gwyn said and headed for the stairs.
Perhaps Joshua was right, and everything would be fine. So why did Sheridan have this instinct telling him Vanessa’s life was at stake?
Joshua turned to Sheridan. “Ready?”
Sheridan checked the loaded pistol tucked into the fall of his trousers, and the other in the tail pocket of his coat. “Ready.”
“Give me a few minutes to get into position.”
With a terse nod, Sheridan watched as Joshua headed for the closest door leading out into the courtyard garden. He waited as long as he could bear it, then walked down the hall to his study. The door was closed, damn it.
Pasting a look of nonchalance to his face, he carefully lifted the door handle and opened the door.
He walked in to find Bonham holding Vanessa’s arm and they both stood behind the desk, looking down at something. The minute the arse saw Sheridan, he thrust a pistol to Vanessa’s head. “Your wife already took me for a fool. So I suggest you do not.”
Sheridan’s heart damned near stopped right there. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said hoarsely. He stared into Vanessa’s frightened eyes and gave her a speaking look he hoped she understood.
I won’t let him hurt you. I’d rather die first. I love you.
God, how he wished he’d said the words sooner.
“Pull the door to,” Bonham said. “I don’t want some servant witnessing our conversation.”
Sheridan did as Bonham said, although he itched to throw himself across the desk and get his hands around Bonham’s throat instead. But Bonham’s position meant he could shoot Vanessa with deadly accuracy, while Sheridan risked hitting her if he fired a shot. Given the bodies the man had left behind him, Bonham wouldn’t hesitate to do it, either. Sheridan couldn’t endanger her. Wouldn’t endanger her.
That was why when Sheridan saw Joshua appear through the glass of the French doors behind Bonham, it was not a relief. “What do you want?” Sheridan said. “I won’t let you take her.” He shook his head as if to emphasize the words, and Joshua nodded to show he understood Sheridan’s signal that it wasn’t safe to shoot Bonham. Yet.
“You have no choice,” Bonham said. “She’ll
