Page 28 of Never a Proper Lady

As I’ve explained before, without proof of Bernadette Rennison’s death, the inheritance her grandfather left in trust for her is inaccessible. Let me be perfectly clear: that includes access by relatives—blood or otherwise—wishing to initiate inheritance claims.

The terms of the trust do not provide a limitation for this protective provision. However, should there be a presumption of death, and, henceforth, a legal declaration of death for Miss Rennison—signed by the appropriate authorities—a successor beneficiary has been named.

I am certain you understand I cannot divulge the identity of said beneficiary, nor any further details regarding the trust. Nor shall I answer further correspondences from you. At this juncture, communications present a conflict of interest.

If you have information regarding Miss Rennison’s disappearance that leads you to believe she is deceased, I advise you to contact the authorities immediately.

~Mr. Barnaby Clipplechap, Solicitor, in a fourth terse letter to Mr. Aloysius Petheringham

Dovetonwick Court drawing room

Early evening

For the fourth time in ten minutes, Constantine speared a covert glance toward the drawing room’s entrance. The guests had gathered for a glass of wine or ratafia before supper, and Edyth and Faith had yet to make an appearance.

After Faith’s magnanimous concession this morning, his mother and sisters had whisked her away to make her presentable. The despair in her big brown eyes, magnified by her spectacles’ lenses, was a mule kick to his gut.

His strong-willed, independent employee had sacrificed her principles to help people she didn’t know.

Faith Roth possessed innate decency and integrity Constantine had rarely seen. As much as he grudgingly admired her abilities as a scrivener and even her ability to match wits with him—no easy task—the awareness of her depth of character unlocked something unidentifiable deep within him.

In truth, something he did not desire to examine as closely as his specimens under a microscope. He mightn’t like what he found or be prepared to deal with the conclusions.

Lifting his glass to his mouth, he scanned the guests over the rim. Several elegantly attired le beau monde members peered in his direction but swiftly averted their gazes when caught staring.

He took a sip of superb wine, welcoming the liquid sliding down his taut throat.

His throat and neck muscles ached from the restraint he’d displayed today. Not once had he told anyone to bugger themselves and had, in fact, managed an insincere smile several times.

Now that was an accomplishment he could be proud of.

“You look a bit worse for the wear, old chap,” Harvey murmured beneath his breath for Constantine’s ears alone as he sidled up.

Constantine flung him a swift, hard sideways glance. “It’s been a troublesome day.”

“So I’ve heard.” A devilish twinkle in his eyes, Harvey gave a lopsided grin. “The house is a veritable bee hive with rumors and speculations buzzing about. I’ve heard no less than four very intriguing scenarios. However, being the considerate friend that I am, I’ll spare your sensibilities and shan’t share the details.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Constantine replied drolly.

A chum from university, Harvey was a good friend and a social equal, but he never missed a chance to have a little fun at Constantine’s expense. Particularly when it came to romance. Or rather, Constantine’s lack of romantic interludes.

Evidently, now that Harvey was madly in love—he felt it his duty to assist Constantine along that same tumultuous pathway.

No, thank you very much.

Constantine had seen what love did to levelheaded, sensible men.

It was embarrassing.

No man should be that vulnerable or malleable.

“That tick in your jaw is a dead giveaway that you’re piqued.” Harvey waggled his eyebrows before taking a not-so-delicate sip from his glass.

“As I said, it’s been an irksome few hours.” He cut his friend a sardonic glance. “And a particularly exasperating past couple of minutes.”

Constantine raked the room with a censorious gaze. His generalized disapproval was unfair. Not everyone present was an obnoxious chinwag. After all, these were his parents’ closest friends and family, and many were decent, considerate people.

Yes, but all it takes is one proverbial bad apple to spoil the bunch.