Page 25 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

She blew out a breath. “In my case, he has to know not only international rights, but also Virginia’s inheritance laws.”

“What do you know of them?” Rafe locked his gaze on hers, as if this was the first time he had thought of that.

“If my father wrote that anything was mine in a last will dated before he died, then it is mine.”

*

Silas Carter was so tall, his neck so long, his torso too, that he barely cleared the lintel of his office door. With a long, pointed nose, rimless spectacles, and blue eyes the color of aquamarine, he was bald, businesslike, and a fast talker.

“You wished for my first available appointment, Miss Butler.” Carter spoke from behind his desk, his manner cold to the point of rude. He also appeared unperturbed by Rafe’s and her demand the other day from his clerk that they have his earliest opening in his schedule. “I have a few minutes, fortunately, before my next client. However, I must say I have had little time to do much research on your behalf since you, Sir Raphael, wrote to me four days ago of your needs.”

“I understand,” she told him with a smile. “And I am grateful for your time this morning. But I am in urgent need.”

“Of what? Knowledge of deeds to your father’s assets? Money? Do you sail soon and need these items?”

“Money would be useful, naturally.” She had everything she needed from Rafe. Pocket money, access to shops, dressmakers, and even jewelers. She would not be financially indebted to him when she had no need to be. He’d been more than generous, more than kind…and in ways loving, too. He did not wish that last to continue. Even if she did, it was unfair to him and her to be so dependent. She had to correct that if she could. “But no, I have not booked passage to America. Still, the knowledge of my father’s wishes would end my worries. Did he leave you a will?”

“He did. I have it locked away in our vaults and have not had time to have my clerk retrieve it.”

Rafe all but growled. “That is unfortunate, sir. Miss Butler needs that document.”

“I do. Most urgently. But then, you may be able to help me with other information.”

“Anything I can do, Miss Butler,” Carter said as if waiting upon her wishes were the very last thing he ever hoped to do.

“Clearly,” she said with the most formal of fake smiles, “you would wish that. Well, sir! I need to know where my father banked. Do you know that?”

“I would have to have your father’s last will before me to divulge such information to you.”

“Sir!” Rafe inhaled and shifted in his chair. Zeph had never seen him irritated—except by her, of course—and this experience was a revelation that thrilled her. Carter shrank before her eyes, and inside, she grinned. She would never tangle with Sir Raphael Durham on any matter—except one. “Only a few banks in Britain deal regularly with American exporters of tobacco and cotton.”

Carter shifted his eerie blue eyes toward Rafe. They narrowed. They burned. “This is true, sir. Maxwell’s of Manchester. And now Nathan Rothschild, who has transferred his business from Manchester to London.” He shot a look at Zeph. “Do you perhaps know where your father banked here in London?”

She shook her head. “He told me little of his financial actions. Although I did do his books for him a few times.” She grew wistful to let her words sink into Carter’s disbelieving brain. “The first time was before he left Paris for London in 1795.”

Carter’s razor-thin brows rose to the ceiling. They stayed there, so high, Zeph thought he might turn to stone that way, permanently appearing surprised. “How is that, Miss Butler?”

“That I corrected what others had flubbed?”

“Exactly.”

“I am very good at mathematics, Mr. Carter.”

The man pulled his chin back into his neck and checked the veracity of this with a scouring of Rafe’s gruff expression.

“This is true, Mr. Carter. Miss Butler is very skilled with numbers.”

The man hummed as he pondered this.

“I did it again when I was nineteen, sir. In 1802, my papa came to Paris carrying his estate ledgers that his overseer at home in Virginia had muddled. He also had with him his own books, listing his savings here in England. I was good. He knew I was capable of finding errors, if there were any.”

“And were there?”

“Quite a few, yes,” she said with a certain overweening satisfaction.

Carter still did not believe his ears. “Amazing. And…and you are now how old?”

This man is an idiot. She smiled. “Twenty-two, soon to have a birthday in October.”