Chapter Seven
Tristan was jolted from a pleasant dream by the hard shaking of the bed, followed by a flare of light that made him groan and bury his face in the pillow.
“It’s time to get up, Captain” Marcus said loudly.
Tristan opened his eyes with another groan to see Marcus by the side of the bed, his face freshly shaven and his bangs damp from recent washing.
“I’m up, I’m up,” Tristan grumbled, throwing back the covers.
Tristan was groggy and still tired after the long day he’d had the day before. Yesterday, after greeting the staff, Tristan was given a tour of the house and a quick update on important matters by Mr. Jenkins. During the tour, he’d learned that his uncle had ordered the servants to preserve the room he’d used as a boy whenever he’d come to stay.
Jenkins had informed him that Sir Howard had ordered his room locked and to only let the servants in once a month to clean it and air it out. After going through the house, Tristan had been informed that Mr. Simmons had let many members of the staff go and had even tried to sack Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. Luckily Uncle Howard had given them all new contracts just before his death, so that they could not be easily terminated.
Jenkins had then presented Tristan with an envelope that contained a key and a slip of paper containing the combination to his office safe and a lock box inside. Jenkins had gone on to say that Sir Howard had ordered him to give the envelope to Tristan and only Tristan. That towards the end of his life Sir Howard had doubts about the honesty of Mr. Simmons.
Inside the safe were not only several account books but a large metal lock box. In the lock box were several envelopes and a letter addressed to Tristan. The letter was not only a farewell to Tristan but an amendment to Sir Howard’s will, stating that the envelopes contained gifts for Tristan, Arabella, Marcus and Mrs. Riley. To Tristan he’d left five hundred pounds and a note saying how proud he had been of Tristan, the money was for Tristan to buy himself anything he wished after years of deprivation.
Sir Howard had gifted Marcus the game keeper’s old cottage and the twenty acres of land around it. Two acres of woodland that bordered with the woods of Avondale and eighteen acres of farm land. The letter to Marcus had said that Sir Howard felt he’d come to know Marcus through Tristan’s many letters recounting their escapades together. The letter had gone on to say that he knew Marcus wanted his own farm and if not for him Tristan might have been killed more than once. Sir Howard had felt that Marcus’ bravery and loyalty should be rewarded and so he left him the property.
In addition to the deed and letter there was three hundred pounds for Marcus to buy livestock with or to fix up the cottage. Though Arabella informed him the cottage was actually rather large, and that Sir Howard had recently had the slate roof repaired, the kitchen expanded and updated and a large conservatory built on to the southern facing side with an attached work room. Marcus had been over whelmed by Sir Howard’s kindness and generosity and promised to name his first born son Howard if he was ever so blessed.
To Arabella he’d left eight hundred pounds as a thank you for all the work she’d done for him over the years. He’d gone on to say that while he was alive she’d never taken any money from him as she feared what people would say or think, so he wanted to give her it now. Arabella had teared up when she’d read the letter to the others, and had clutched the letter to her chest.
Sir Howard had also remembered the servants thanking them for their loyal years of service with fifty pounds each, and lastly, Sir Howard had remembered Mrs. Riley. Tristan, upon discovering the widow was mentioned, had sent Sir Howard’s coachman, Patrick, to fetch the lovely widow and her children to the manor.
Mrs. Riley had been surprised that Sir Howard had remembered her in his will and when she’d opened the letter she’d discovered that it contained three hundred pounds and a brief note thanking Mrs. Riley for her kindness to him in the last few years and her kindness to Arabella. Mrs. Riley had wept openly upon receiving her gift.
Tristan had asked the ladies to stay for a celebration supper, where they had toasted to the memory of Sir Howard and then toasted to Tristan welcoming him back to Avondale. After super Arabella had gone over the estate accounts with Tristan and Marcus, explaining where various funds had come from what payments had been made and for what. Once Tristan and Marcus had understood the accounting Arabella had gone on to explain where she had seen the discrepancies and why she thought them odd. At ten Tristan had asked Patrick to take Arabella home after thanking her for all her help and asking if she’d return the following day to continue reviewing the accounts with him.
After Arabella had gone home Tristan and Marcus continued going over the accounts till midnight, finding even more discrepancies, discrepancies that pointed a damming finger at Mr. Simmons. By midnight Tristan and Marcus had discovered eight thousand pounds were unaccounted for. Tristan had sent Marcus to bed before going over the accounts one last time. Tristan had finally staggered off to bed after one in the morning, knowing he’d not only have to terminate Mr. Simmons but likely have him arrested for embezzlement.
“When did you go to bed?” Marcus asked holding Tristan’s black breeches out to him. Tristan took them with a nod and dragged them on over his short clothes.
“After one, I went over all the numbers one last time. I might have you and Mr. Jenkins go to town and find the sheriff to file charges against Mr. Simmons for embezzlement. On the way back, you can stop in and check on your new house, it’s just a mile or so from here.” Tristan said, blinking against the sun pouring in the window. “What time is it?”
“Eight fifteen, I filled your wash basin with warm water and made up a cup of lather for you and put out your razor,” Marcus said as he gave Tristan a nod. “I’ll see you downstairs in ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Marcus. Could you ask Mrs. Jenkins to make me a large pot of coffee? I’m going to need it.” Tristan asked as he stretched sleepily.
“Aye captain,” Marcus quipped just before he shut the door.
As soon as Marcus stepped through the door Tristan staggered into the bathing room to wash and shave. Miss Layden would be coming later that morning to go over the rest of the accounts with him and he wanted to take extra care with his appearance. He’d never cared much about his appearance other than being clean and having a neat appearance. Things were different now, he was paying court to an attractive young woman, it wouldn’t do to meet her looking like a day laborer or a beggar. With that thought in mind he reached for the shaving brush and the cup of lather.
* * * *
Arabella settled into the seat at the kitchen table, wincing as her stomach growled loudly. Mrs. Jenkins only laughed and set a plate of eggs, ham and fried potatoes before her. Arabella loved the warm sunny kitchen; it always smelled wonderful and felt like a warm welcoming hug whenever she entered it.
“No worries, it’s good to have more people to cook for. Dig in and enjoy dear.” Mrs. Jenkins said patting her shoulder in a motherly fashion. “You’ve gotten thin since you stopped coming by. It was good to have you for supper last night. I’ve missed our conversations and your help in the kitchens.”
“Thank you I’ve missed our talks too,” Arabella replied as she dug into her food with relish. She meant it too, she’d always thought of Mrs. Jenkins like a second mother or an aunt, someone she could have long talks with knowing she would never betray her secrets.
“If you marry Sir Tristan you’ll be here all the time you know,” Mrs. Jenkins said pouring Arabella a steaming cup of tea.
“You know about Sir Howard’s request for me to marry Sir Tristan?” Arabella paused her fork partway to her mouth.
“Oh yes, Sir Howard took Mr. Jenkins and I into his confidence, and asked us if we thought Sir Tristan would be a good match for you. We’ve known him since he was a tyke. He was always a good, kind young man who loved his aunt and uncle. We told Sir Howard that we thought he’d suit you and make you a good husband, especially as you have similar interests.” Mrs. Jenkins said.
“Similar interests?” Arabella queried, looking up at Mrs. Jenkins.
“Oh yes, when he was a lad, he said he wanted to be either a doctor or barrister. Sir Howard would send him books about medicine and law while he was at that terrible school.” Mrs. Jenkins moved back to the stove to check the next batch of eggs and bacon she was cooking.
Arabella didn’t have much time to ponder what Mrs. Jenkins said as Marcus and Sir Tristan stepped into the kitchen. Arabella felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of them. Both were very fine-looking men, tall and powerfully built with chiseled features and wide muscular shoulders. The men were also dressed similarly, with tight dark breeches, well-polished boots, waist coats, and white linen shirts open at the neck to reveal smooth tanned skin. While Arabella was used to men, as she saw farmers and farm workers almost daily, Sir Tristan and Mr. Marcus were in a class of their own.
Sir Tristan especially made her heart beat faster; there was something about his piercing blue eyes that called to her. Maybe it was the intelligence or the pain she saw in them, or perhaps it was the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled that attracted her, or it could be his thick dark hair that was somewhere between dark brown and black with a hint of curl that made her long to run her finger through it. Whatever it was, Arabella knew she could spend the rest of her life looking at that face and into those eyes and never grow tired of it. She’d never been one to be foolish over a man before, but something in Sir Tristan called to her. Perhaps it was their shared background of pain or their shared love of Sir Howard, but were her feelings enough to build a life on?
“It smells wonderful, Mrs. Jenkins; I’m hoping the coffee is ready, for I sorely need it after last night,” Tristan said as he stepped into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks at the sight of Arabella.
“Miss Layden, please forgive my state of undress if I’d known you were already here, I’d have worn a cravat at least,” Tristan said. He was pleased to see Miss Layden was already there, but distressed that she would not see him at his best.
“Oh no, no sir, you look fine, and I am used to seeing farm workers in their shirt sleeves or less,” Arabella replied with a smile.
“Sir Tristan, if you and Mr. Marcus would like, I can serve you in the dining room,” Mrs. Jenkins said.
“Oh, no bother, Mrs. Jenkins, I much prefer the kitchen to the dining room, that is, if you don’t mind. Marcus and I have spent the past years eating in mess halls or by a fire pit and neither of us are high in the instep.” Tristan replied. “If you don’t mind, Miss Layden?”
“Of course not, it is your home,” Miss Layden replied, motioning for Tristan and Marcus to the empty seats at the table.
“But I’m trying to remember my manners,” Tristan said, taking the seat next to Arabella, while Marcus took an empty seat across the table from him.
Mrs. Jenkins set large ceramic mugs down before Marcus and Tristan, then poured them each a steaming mug of coffee.
“Mr. Marcus told me last night you preferred coffee to tea, luckily I had some in the pantry. I never cared much for it myself, too bitter for my liking.” Mrs. Jenkins said moving back to the side board to fetch two plates, then return them to the table and set them before the men.
“You need to add milk and sugar to it, Mrs. Jenkins, makes it much more flavorful,” Marcus stated as Mrs. Jenkins set a large platter of scrambled eggs on the table between him and Tristan.
“That is enough for me, ma’am, but I know Tristan is hungry too,” Marcus joked, grabbing the serving spoon in the eggs before beginning to shovel large heaps onto his plate. Mrs. Jenkins snorted in amusement as she set a platter of bacon and a rack of toast on the table as well, then swatted Marcus on the shoulder good naturedly.
Tristan scowled at Marcus, and then poured a large amount of cream into his mug, followed by several cubes of sugar.
“When did you come to bed Sir Tristan?” Arabella asked trying to show her amusement as Tristan reached across the table to snatch the serving spoon from Marcus. It was obvious that Sir Tristan was fatigued from the smudges under his eyes.
“Sometime after one, Marcus and I found even more discrepancies after you left. With some searching we found the older ledger books hidden in the library. I began going through them and I found the first discrepancies starting about a year before the accident that claimed the family. I also learned that Sir Howard had a different land agent for some time, a Mr. Walker. He made a point of signing the bottoms of pages and dating them. Then abruptly the hand writing changed and Mr. Simmons name appeared in the ledgers.” Tristan said reaching for a piece of toast. “Do you know what happened to Mr. Walker? I would like to speak to him if possible.”
“He had an accident and died,” Mr. Jenkins said stepping into the kitchen and up to his wife who handed him a cup of tea.
“He died, do you know how by chance?” Tristan asked. After being in the army for years he did not believe in accidents when it came to convenient deaths.
“It has been many years my lord, but I believe he was shot by a poacher. He had just left here and was riding through the woods if I remember correctly. The news greatly disturbed Sir Howard as he’d been friends with Mr. Walker.” Mr. Jenkins replied.
“He was shot by a poacher? Is that not odd?” Marcus interjected. “What did the sheriff do, I’m assuming he looked into it.”
“Indeed, the sheriff must have investigated,” Tristan commented, hovering over his plate of food.
“Perhaps, but I don’t remember, do you remember dear?” Mr. Jenkins turned to his wife who screwed up her face as if thinking hard.
“Oh, aye I remember now. The sheriff said it had to be poachers as there had been some in the neighborhood earlier that month. A bit latter Mr. Simmons came to work here.” Mrs. Jenkins said with a nod.
“That is beyond odd. Do you remember by chance who recommended Mr. Simons to my uncle?” Tristan exchanged a look with Marcus.
“Why yes, Mrs. Lester, Lady Amelia’s cousin. While her ladyship was alive Mrs. Lester would often come to visit and stay for a week or more. I remember Sir Howard being rather desperate at the time for help, the harvests were starting and he needed help with the figuring.” Mr. Jenkins replied.
Arabella stiffened at the mention of Mrs. Lester, but she didn’t say anything it wasn’t her place to comment she thought. While she didn’t like Mr. Simmons her feelings were not relevant to the discussion. Arabella pushed back her plate and rose from the table, prompting both Sir Tristan and Marcus to begin to rise.
“Oh please stay seated gentlemen. I’ll go to the office and look over what you found.” Arabella said.
“Thank you Miss Layden, I’ll join you shortly. I would appreciate you reviewing my figures; I was rather tired when I added everything up. If you agree with my math I will have to call in the magistrate for there is evidence that Mr. Simons has not only been embezzling from the estate but cheating the local farmers.” Tristan stated.
“Good heavens, are you sure?” Arabella asked in alarm.
“Aye, the math doesn’t add up. I could see a few mistakes, but every page had an error. And when we began adding up the error it became rather large. And not just what was being paid into the estate by the farmers for rent but payments out were off. I have a friend whom is a clerk in the War Office if his math was that sloppy he’d have been brought up on charges and demoted.” Marcus added, earning a nod from Tristan.
“I concur, after you review our findings, if you agree with us, I shall write letters to the sheriff and the local magistrate. Mr. Jenkins, if you would be obliging and accompany Marcus to the nearest town with a magistrate I would be grateful. We are new to the area, and you, having lived here for a while, will add weight to our statement and request.” Tristan said.
“Of course, Sir Tristan, if I might confess, I’ve never liked the fellow, always a bit arrogant with the staff.” Mr. Jenkins replied, earning a nod of agreement from Mrs. Jenkins.
“Oh yes, towards the end when Sir Howard was too ill to come to the table, Mr. Simmons would demand that the staff and I serve him his meals in the formal dining room, not the family one, mind you, that might be proper for a man of his station, but the formal one. Was always putting on airs to, complaining about my cooking or what I served him.” Mrs. Jenkins commented.
“The nerve of the fellow, well if Miss Layden agrees with our findings you won’t have to deal with him ever again as He’ll be arrested.” Tristan replied seeing Mrs. Jenkins nod in satisfaction.
“Well, I’d better get to the accounts then,” Arabella stated, and with a nod hurried from the kitchen. During the walk from the kitchen to the office, Arabella pondered the events from the previous day; so much had happened that she couldn’t believe it had been only yesterday that Sir Tristan had dropped into her life. Not only was he handsome and kind, but he’d valued what she’d said to him and hadn’t discounted her thoughts, much the way Sir Howard had. In fact, when she’d pointed out her finding, he’d asked for her help to search the older ledger books looking for more. If this was a clue as to how their marriage could go, it was another point in Sir Tristan’s favor. That his final decision on whether or not to have the discernible Mr. Simmons arrested was waiting on her say meant so much to her. Her opinion mattered to him, which meant she would matter, for a woman such herself, that meant so much.
Arabella stepped into the office and stopped in mid-step at what she saw. Sir Tristan and Mr. Marcus had brought the tables from the library and the side table from the formal dining room into the office. On each of the tables was a lamp and account books, as well as sheets of paper covered in notes and figures. Arabella stepped up to the first table and looked at the page that was open. The ledger book was dated to two years before the accident that led to the loss of Mr. Howard’s family. Sticking out of the book at various places were sheets of paper, that when Arabella flipped, to them contained lists of figures and notations. The men had indeed been diligent in their review of the books.
Arabella found a blank sheet of paper and a pencil on Sir Howards’ desk, no it was no longer Sir Howard’s desk, it was Sir Tristan’s she corrected herself. She walked back to the first table and began taking down figures.
Soon Arabella was lost in the figures and her thoughts and didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until the owner of then was in the office. She looked up expecting to see either Sir Tristan or Mr. Marcus but was shocked to see it was Mr. Simmons.
“How dare you be here, I banned you from the estate. And what have you done with my things, how dare you touch my papers,” Mr. Simmons snarled his face twisting in rage.
Arabella stiffened in fear at the rage evident on Mr. Simmons face; she stepped away from the desk as Mr. Simmons stepped closer.
“I was asked to be here,” Arabella protested.
“What by that old fool Jenkins, well he and his insolent plump wife shall be gone soon. And as for you I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” Mr. Simmons advanced on her forcing Arabella to step backwards till she pumped into the wall.
“Now come here,” Mr. Simmons barked, he advanced on Arabella and grabbed her by the forearm, then with a hard tug began to drag her away from the wall. “Maybe if you are nice to me I’ll only charge you with trespassing, if not I’ll add a charge of thieving to it.”
Tristan had shoveled down his food quickly not wanting to leave Arabella alone in the office to long. He’d polished his plate clean while Marcus was finishing off all the food on the table. Tristan couldn’t fault Marcus for his hunger or his hearty appetite. Mrs. Jenkins was a fine cook and neither of them had eaten well during their long voyage home. Tristan had motioned for his friend to finish his food before heading out of the kitchen and down the corridor towards Uncle Howard’s office, no it was his office now. He was a few feet from the office door when he heard a man’s raised voice. Frowning at the unknown voice and who could be in the office he stepped into the office in time to see a slightly portly, middle aged man of average height holding Arabella by the arm and shaking her.
Tristan saw red at the sight of this nameless man laying his hands on the petite Arabella.
“Unhand her at once,” Tristan bellowed stepping into the office.
The man, his hand still on Arabella spun to give him a scathing look. “And who are you and what are you doing in my office?” The man snarled.
“Your office, I think not. I am Sir Tristan Riley Sizemore, heir to Sir Howard Sizemore and the earl of Rawlings, now unhand her at once or I’ll remove your hand for you and I mean your hand at your wrist.” Tristan said low and evenly.
“You can’t be, he isn’t to return yet. He isn’t to return for months, I’m Mr. Simmons the land agent and I’ll have you both arrested for trespassing,” The man protested sputtering in rage.
“Now take your damn hands off her,” Tristan advanced on the smaller man who looked from Tristan to the water color of his face on Sir Howard’s desk.
“Oh my lord, forgive me, he said you wouldn’t be back yet for some time. I don’t know what this little harlot has said to you but she is a liar and a jezebel. She has no doubt tried to tempt you with her charms as she did Sir Howard,” Mr. Simmons replied.
“What did you say?” Tristan saw red and advanced on Mr. Simmons who wisely released Arabella and stepped back.
“She is a lying little harlot,” Mr. Simmons didn’t get to finish as Tristan slammed his right fist into Mr. Simmons bulbous nose. Mr. Simmons went down with hardly a sound to thump loudly on the carpet covered floor.
“Nice punch, I heard some of what the weasel said as I was coming down the corridor,” Marcus said from the open door.
“Thank you, I learned from you remember.” Tristan replied glancing over his shoulder then turned his attention to Arabella.
“Are you all right Miss Layden?” Tristan asked as Marcus stepped into the room, moving around Tristan to kneel by Mr. Simmons body and check his pulse.
“Oh, yes, just a bit rattled.” Arabella replied rubbing her arm unconsciously.
“He’s alive, what do you want to do with him?” Marcus asked reaching down to grab Mr. Simmons by the left arm and haul him up and then throw him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
“Get him out of here first, then tie him up. I’ll write letters to the magistrate and the sheriff, when I’m done I’ll have you and Mr. Jenkins go to Thornton and we shall press charges against him for embezzlement as well as attempted assault on Miss Layden.” Tristan directed.
“Good heavens what has happened?” Mr. Jenkins asked stepping into the room.
“I caught him insulting Miss Layden and putting his hands on her. Would you ask Patrick to prepare Sir Howard’s carriage, then tell Mrs. Jenkins you won’t be home for lunch. It would seem I need you to take Marcus to meet the sheriff and the magistrate sooner than I thought.” Tristan replied.
Mr. Jenkins nodded with a smile. “Gladly sir, I never did like him.” Then he turned and hurried away.
Arabella watched Marcus stride from the room with Mr. Simmons over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing, and the tears she’d been keeping in check began to fall.
“Perhaps, I’m not as strong as I thought, would you hold me for a moment Sir Tristan, I know it isn’t very proper. Just, just until I am calmer,” Arabella asked softly and saw Tristan open his arms wide.
With a loud sniff Arabella stepped forward to press herself against Tristan’s chest, “It’s not so much what Mr. Simmons said or did, it’s what he insinuated about Sir Howard and I. I miss him so much. He was not just my mentor and protector he was my father.” Arabella pressed herself against Tristan’s broad chest, after a moment he slipped his arms around her to give her a loose hug, and then patted her awkwardly on the back.
“Forgive me for crying, I’m not usually this so weak,” Arabella said against his chest. Sir Tristan smelled of clean linen, sunshine, soap and something faintly spicy.
“It’s all right, I admit I cried myself when I heard that aunt Amelia and my cousins had died. Amelia was always so good to me, and my little cousins I thought of like younger siblings. I was in India when it happened, and while they had passed over a month before I received the news it was still a heavy blow that left me reeling for weeks. And I wept like a babe when I received the news about Uncle Hoard, as he was the only father I’d ever known. Poor Marcus didn’t know what to do. I’m afraid I don’t have a handkerchief but you are welcome to my sleeve. The shirt is clean and relatively new, it belonged to my brother Allister. He was a terrible sod and a blunderbuss, so feel free to use it.”
Despite everything Arabella felt a giggle bubble up. She stepped back to look up into Tristan’s blue eyes and felt her heart lurch.
“I miss him too, it’s all right I think if we miss him together, and anytime you need to weep or talk about him I am free.” Tristan offered.
Arabella saw the sadness in Tristan’s eyes and knew she’d found a kindred soul, and in that instant, she fell a little in love with him. “I think Sir Howard kept some in the top drawer of his desk,” Arabella replied, using the back of her fingers to brush away her tears.
“Oh yes, I think you’re right, I remember seeing some last night, much better than my sleeve,” Tristan said, reluctantly stepping away from Arabella. It had felt far too good to hold her and far too tempting.
“If you are composed enough, I need your help to compose letters to the Sheriff and the Magistrate of Thornton. I’d like to write down when you first noticed there were problems with the accounts. Then I shall need help to put together a complete list of all the shorts we have discovered. A few addition mistakes I can overlook,
but not so many and for so much. I also wish to swear out a statement that I saw him shaking you and verbally abusing and threatening you.” Tristan said, and saw Arabella nod.
“Will they believe you?” Arabella asked
“I believe so, it doesn’t hurt that I’m an earl now and not just a mere Captain,” Tristan said as he pulled out a chair beside the desk and then motioned for Arabella to take it.
“I would be happy to help,” Arabella replied, taking the offered chair. As she sat, Marcus stepped into the office, his shirt and waistcoat now mussed.
“All taken care of,” Marcus stated as he moved closer to the desk.
“What did you do with the bitter old weasel?” Tristan asked taking a seat.
“What you asked, he is currently tied up and gagged in the boot of Sir Howard’s best carriage. Mr. Patrick, your uncle’s coachman, was delighted to see the bastard brought low, pardon my swearing, Miss Layden. He said that the cur had cut his salary and that of the head gardener by ten pounds a year and threatened to dismiss them both if they complained. So what do you need me to do?” Marcus replied as he stepped closer to the desk.
“Grab all our notes, then you can help Miss Layden and I compose letters stating our findings. Then we will both need our best jackets and breeches, as we want to make a good impression when Mr. Jenkins introduces us to the magistrate and the sheriff in Thornton.” Tristan replied.
“We, you are coming too? I thought you said you were too busy before.” Marcus gave Tristan a questioning look.
“That was before the slimy cur put his hands on Miss Layden. Take a seat, the sooner we finish the sooner we can leave.” Tristan pulled the top drawer of the desk open and quickly spotted a neatly folded handkerchief that she handed to Arabella.
With a quick smile, Arabella reached for it, as she did, her fingers brushed Tristan’s, and she noticed for the first time how big his hands were. His fingers were long and tanned with several scars covering the backs. They were the hands of someone used to hard work and not a dandy like the baron’s sons.
“Thank you and thank you for coming to my defense earlier. Did you hurt your hand?” Arabella asked.
Tristan shook his head, “No, but even if I had it would be well worth it to teach that cur he can’t treat a lady that way. As long as I am near I’ll never let you come to harm again, you have my word.”
Arabella saw the sincerity in Tristan’s deep blue eyes and, in that moment, lost the rest of her heart to him. She blamed her loneliness for falling so quickly for the handsome lord, but not liking him would be like trying to hold back the tide.
“Now, where do we start?” Tristan asked, looking up from the stack of notes he had made last night.
“At the beginning, a year before the accident that claimed the lives your aunt and cousins, it was a rather convenient timing for Mr. Simmons,” Marcus said, looking up from the notes he was holding.
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked, he’d thought it an odd coincidence last night but he’d out his suspicions down to fatigue.
“Well, according to what we found, the embezzling started shortly after Mr. Simmons came to work for your uncle. And Mr. Simmons only got the position after the previous land agent,” Marcus didn’t get a chance to finish as Tristan’s jaw clenched in anger.
“Was conveniently killed by a supposed poacher that was never caught,” Tristan finished.
“Aye, and if your uncle hadn’t nearly been killed in the accident that claimed his family, he might have noticed the errors. And then when Miss Layden found them, Mr. Simmons tried to silence her and then banned her from the manor,” Marcus finished. “I was only an infantryman, but it smells odd to me, if I was still in the service and working with supply, I’d have to bring such findings to a superior officer.”
“Bloody hell; pardon me Miss Layden I thought it all odd last night but put it down to being tired. But you are right Marcus; Mr. Simmons has a lot more to answer for than embezzling.” Tristan didn’t like what Marcus was suggesting all made horrible sense, and if Mr. Simmons had somehow been behind his families deaths he would see him pay.
Arabella gasped softly in shock and surprise, and then Sir Tristan turned to her to pat her hand quickly. Just a quick comforting pat and nothing more, but Arabella knew that somehow Tristan would make it all right and that Tristan would fight for what was right for both her uncle and for her. How could she not come to admire such a man?