Page 4 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
“My,” Harrison said. “What a frosty reception! Did the cook once more serve you fish? She ought to be well aware by now that it does not please your palate.”
Cedric groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. The megrim seemed to have doubled in intensity now that Harrison was here. “I am in no mood for your tomfoolery tonight, Harrison. I have an important matter at hand and I am no closer to figuring it out than I was when I first started.”
Harrison sauntered over to the desk. As Cedric’s oldest friend and business partner, he didn’t mind when Harrison reached over and picked up one of the ledgers to look at. But he couldn’t help the twinge of discomfort watching his eyes look through it. He could trust Harrison, he knew. If there was nothing else he was sure of, Cedric was certain of that.
Then again, he had been certain that he could trust someone else and they’d made every attempt to take that trust and shatter it into a million pieces. He was still picking up the bits of it.
Not to mention the fact that his steward of two years had run off after causing this mess.
“What on earth is this?” Harrison asked at last, frowning at Cedric.
“I would tell you if I knew,” Cedric sighed wearily. “Unfortunately, I have been poring over everything for a few hours now and I am no closer to understanding that mess. My steward, James, has made a folly of it all and left without a trace.”
“Left?” Harrison echoed, looking uncharacteristically serious. “When?”
“Apparently, he was last seen yesterday morning. And seeing that I had just returned this morning, I’m sure he must be out of London by now.”
“Do you think it was intentional?” Harrison asked as he perched on the edge of the large desk.
Cedric leaned back in his chair, tendrils of anger curling through him and making his megrim worse. “I have no doubt that it is. The only thing I don’t know is why. He has been a good steward all this time, so why the change?”
“Perhaps outside forces caused the change,” Harrison suggested. “Perhaps he was convinced to double cross you for some gain.”
Cedric shot out of his chair, stalking over to the sideboard, bristling. He’d thought about it, of course, but he would never lethis thoughts stray too far. Every time he did, two faces came to mind. The same two faces that plagued him every day for the past six years.
At two-and-twenty, he’d been naive, untouched by the realities of heartbreak and betrayal. Lady Isabella, daughter of the Earl of Norton, and his former friend Simon Ashworth made sure to teach him just how sharp the daggers of deception could be. He’d loved Isabella. Their courtship was a brief but passionate one and he was certain that she loved him back. So certain in fact that he’d had every intention of asking for her hand so that they could be married by the end of the Season.
But her heart clearly hadn’t laid with him, because she was caught in a compromising position with Simon, Cedric’s best friend at the time. The man who Cedric had first confessed to having feelings for Isabella. The man who had encouraged Cedric to ask Isabella’s father for permission to marry his daughter. The man who, by all means, would have been his man of honor at his wedding.
That very same man had been caught with Isabella in a position that no proper man and lady should ever be caught in.
Cedric downed one glass of whiskey, then another, then another. He was about to drink his fourth when a hand shot out and plucked it from his grasp.
“No more,” Harrison scolded lightly. “As much as it pains me to say this, it makes no sense getting drunk tonight.”
Cedric scowled but made no attempt to take back his glass. He could already feel the first three swirling in his head. “I think I have an idea who would want to sabotage the business.”
“And while I’m sure you have good reason for suspecting whomever you’re suspecting, do you have any evidence to support it?”
Cedric remained in glum silence.
Harrison nodded as if he hadn’t expected anything else. “Then intelligence is what we need. Instead of trying to figure out this mess.” He gestured to the ledgers strewn across the desk.
Cedric crossed his arms. “What do you propose then?”
“We ask around. Discreetly. If someone is truly trying to sabotage you and the shipping business, I doubt they will stop at getting your steward to ruin your records and disappear.”
It was a smart move, Cedric knew. And as much as he would love to storm over to Simon and Isabella’s home—since they were now married—it would be wiser to do so if he had actual evidence to back his accusations.
Someone knocked on the door. A moment later, they were interrupted by the butler. “Pardon me, my lord. I wish to remind you of your plans to have dinner at Lady Hutton’s.
Cedric bit back a curse. He’d forgotten that he’d agreed to have dinner at his aunt’s house. She’d been bothering him about coming over for dinner so he doubted he could get away with putting her off again.
“This arrived for you as well, my lord,” the butler went on, approaching with a sealed letter in his hand. “It appears to be an invitation from Mr. Ambrose Sinclair to attend his dinner party.”
“Ah, just our luck,” Harrison spoke up, taking a sip of the glass of whiskey he’d stolen from Cedric. “Mr. Ambrose is well-connected and I hear he has a rather loose tongue when comfortable. Perhaps he will be able to give us some insight about our potential saboteur.”
Cedric grimaced at the thought. He knew Mr. Ambrose in passing, an astute but ruthless businessman whose practices were less than savory, bordering on immoral. Not to mention he had made it clear that he wished to have his daughter married, which did not spell well for Cedric.
