Page 2 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
“My only illness is of the heart and soul,” Mr. Fisher said mournfully.
Andrew glanced at the large grandfather clock ticking away the seconds in the corner. “I’m afraid I can’t dally long. I have an appointment to keep.”
Mr. Fisher’s throat bobbled. “This may take precedence, my lord.”
Andrew gestured impatiently. “Tell me.”
How bad could it be? Perhaps Mr. Smith was ill, and his business partner had come to advise the earl that some of his holdings would need to be managed by someone else. Surely the man couldn’t have died. He was relatively young, and he was perfectly healthy the last time Andrew had seen him.
“I’m sorry to tell you that Albert Smith is gone.” Mr. Fisher pressed his palms together in supplication.
Andrew tilted his head to the side. “Gone where? For how long?”
“Erm… indefinitely, I suppose.”
Andrew rubbed his temples. “Please speak plainly.”
Mr. Fisher squeaked. “Mr. Smith disappeared several days ago, and no one has seen him since.”
Andrew’s breath caught. “Has anyone checked his home? He could have taken ill or been in an accident.”
Mr. Fisher shifted his weight again. “That’s the first thing I did when he failed to show up at the office for the second day in a row without sending word as to why. My assistant reported back that his house had been emptied of personal belongings. I verified this myself.”
“Did he move houses?” Because Andrew couldn’t think of any other explanation.
“Not within London.” Mr. Fisher inhaled deeply and visibly braced himself. “Upon further investigation, we discovered that Mr. Smith seems to have boarded a ship bound for Spain. He is fleeing the country.”
Andrew shook his head. That made no sense. “Why would he need to flee? Was he in debt?”
If possible, Mr. Fisher paled even more. “I asked myself those same questions. Apparently, my business partner has not been handling his client’s affairs as successfully as he portrayed.”
A sinking feeling settled in Andrew’s gut. Somehow, he knew that whatever Mr. Fisher was about to say, it wouldn’t be good.
“Go on,” he prompted.
Mr. Fisher wrung his hands. “It seems Albert invested heavily in a company that was attempting to build a smaller scale steam locomotive to be used for personal transportation. Unfortunately, the company has gone bankrupt and all the money he invested on behalf of our clients has been lost.”
The sinking sensation worsened. “I recall him mentioning that invention. He said it sounded promising. I believe some of my fortune was invested.”
Mr. Fisher wet his lips. “Yes, my lord. A substantial amount. More, I believe, than what you agreed to. He has been forging approvals for investments he considered worthy—presumably assuming that if they paid back well, no one would question him. But that isn’t all.”
“Dear God. What else? And how much more did he invest beyond what we discussed?” Had he lost enough money to feel the pinch? While his family had never been as wealthy as that of his close friend, the Duke of Ashford, was, they were rich enough that they’d never had to worry about their finances.
“A lot more.” His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his hands. “And what was not lost, Mr. Smith appears to have taken.”
Andrew stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Fisher raised his chin. “I regret to inform you that the Drake fortune is almost completely gone. What was not lost to bad investment, Mr. Smith stole to fund his travel abroad. I can only assume that he intends to stay on the Continent for a long time and enjoy a lavish lifestyle.”
Andrew’s mouth fell open, but he snapped it shut again. His mind was whirring frantically, and he felt sick to his stomach. “How did this happen?”
Mr. Fisher backed up a step. “As I said, Mr. Smith was forging client approvals. He had a copy of your seal made and mimicked your signature. In this way, he entered intodeals without your knowledge, invested more than he should have, shifted money to his own accounts, and sold off two of your unentailed properties.”
“He sold two of my properties,” Andrew sputtered. “That’s impossible!”
The backs of Mr. Fisher’s legs hit the desk. “I assure you, it’s not. When the investments started going downhill, he tried to fix the problem by selling Rosewill Cottage and the dower house that was formerly attached to the Longley Manor estate.”
Andrew’s heart thudded rapidly. This was unbelievable. It couldn’t be real.
