She looked at him for a long moment. "No, you may be embarrassed. I spent 8 years confusing those things myself."
Nathaniel's eyes lifted sharply at the echo of his own history. Clara continued examining the accounts until afternoon light faded gray against the windows. Finally, she leaned back.
"The estate cannot meet the next payment."
Edward covered his face. "Then we lose it, possibly. Unless Ashborne buys the debt."
Nathaniel said nothing. Edward looked toward him. "Your Grace, surely."
"Do not ask him." Clara's voice was quiet.
"But he could save us. He could save you from consequences. What difference does it make?"
"Everything."
Edward stared at her as if he had never seen her before. Perhaps he had not.
Nathaniel finally spoke, but only to Clara. "What do you need?" Not 'what shall I do?' Not 'whom shall I threaten?' Clara felt the distinction.
"Time," she said. "And access to Pembroke's original loan agreements."
Mr. Fletcher shifted. "Those may be filed with his London solicitor."
Nathaniel nodded. "I know the solicitor."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "That sounds dangerously like helping."
"You asked for access. I asked for time. Then I shall provide neither unless requested." His expression was solemn, but something warm moved beneath it. Clara almost laughed.
Before she could answer, wheels sounded on the gravel outside. A carriage stopped before the house. Moments later, the library door opened and a footman entered.
"Lord Pembroke, Miss Whitmore."
Pembroke walked in without waiting to be announced further. He removed his gloves finger by finger, surveyed the ledgers, and smiled. "I see you have discovered the unpleasant arithmetic."
Clara rose. "I have discovered quite a lot."
Pembroke's gaze flicked toward Nathaniel. "Including a convenient duke, apparently."
Nathaniel's expression turned glacial. Clara stepped between them before he could speak. "You will address me."
Pembroke smiled wider. "Very well. Your brother's payment is due in 12 days. Without it, I proceed against Whitmore Park. And the settlement still available?"
"I tore it in half."
"Paper can be replaced. Consent cannot."
His smile thinned. "Then perhaps you should consider what happens when a 31-year-old unmarried woman loses the only home willing to keep her."
The cruelty struck exactly where he intended. Clara felt it and remained standing. "I have survived being unwanted before."
Pembroke's eyes hardened. "Not without money." He turned toward the door, then paused. "Twelve days, Miss Whitmore."
After he left, silence filled the library. Edward whispered, "What are we going to do?"
Clara looked down at Pembroke's letters again. One phrase repeated across three of them, each attached to a different loan. Valuation confirmed by H. Vale and Company.
Her fingers went cold. Nathaniel noticed. "Clara."
She lifted the oldest document toward the fading light. Henry Vale, the man she had refused 8 years earlier, had valued every disastrous investment Pembroke persuaded Edward to make. Clara looked at Nathaniel.
"This was never only about Whitmore Park."
"Henry Vale?" Nathaniel asked.
Clara kept staring at the signature. "The man I nearly married."
Edward's head lifted. "Vale was your suitor 8 years ago."
She laid Pembroke's letters beside one another. The valuations bore the same company's seal, each estimating Edward's purchases well above what the properties could reasonably produce. "He knew Whitmore Park. He knew my father's settlement. And he knew me."
Nathaniel came one step closer then stopped. "What are you thinking?"
"That Pembroke did not accidentally lend Edward money against bad investments. Vale made those investments appear sound."
Mr. Fletcher bent over the documents. "If the valuations were knowingly inflated, then Pembroke's hands may not be clean either."
"Clara finished." Edward stared at the papers. "You think they planned this?"
"I intend to find out."
Clara spent the next 4 days doing what society had never imagined a quiet spinster might do. She followed numbers. Nathaniel obtained introductions to two solicitors and then, at Clara's insistence, stepped back. Mr. Fletcher brought estate records. Clara compared valuations, dates, letters, and transfers until the pattern became impossible to dismiss. Vale's company had overstated three investments. Pembroke had financed each one. After every failure, he tightened his claim against Whitmore Park.
Most damning of all was a letter Edward had forgotten receiving two years earlier. Vale had written to Pembroke: Whitmore remains easily led. His sister remains the only obstacle.
Clara read the sentence twice. Edward sat opposite her, gray-faced. "I never saw that."
"You did." She turned the page toward him. His initials marked the corner. "You simply did not understand what you were reading."
Edward covered his mouth. "Clara, not now."
The confrontation came at Lady Hartwell's assembly three evenings later. Pembroke had apparently expected Clara to remain hidden at Whitmore Park until desperation softened her. Instead, she entered the drawing room in a simple dark blue gown with Edward on one side and Mr. Fletcher carrying a document case behind them. Nathaniel stood across the crowded room. He did not approach. Clara had asked him not to.
Pembroke's smile faltered. "Miss Whitmore, have you reconsidered?"
"Completely." Conversations nearby faded. Clara placed the first valuation on a card table. "You lent my brother money after Henry Vale's company valued the western acreage at nearly twice its demonstrated income."
Pembroke's expression did not change. "Business judgments sometimes prove incorrect."
"Once, perhaps." She placed down a second document. "Then there was the mill investment." A third. "Then the Northern Timber contract."
People began turning toward them. Pembroke lowered his voice. "This is hardly an appropriate subject for a drawing room."
Clara looked at him calmly. "Neither was discussing my marriage as payment for my brother's debt. Yet you appeared comfortable doing that."
Lady Beatrice inhaled sharply nearby.
Pembroke's face hardened. "Be careful."
"I have been careful for 8 years." Clara opened Vale's letter. "That was my mistake." She read only the relevant sentence aloud. "Whitmore remains easily led. His sister remains the only obstacle."
Edward flinched but did not retreat. Pembroke looked toward the door. Nathaniel remained where he was, hands behind his back.
Clara continued, "Copies of these records were delivered this morning to our solicitor. The validity of the valuations, the lending arrangements, and your conduct surrounding the proposed settlement will be challenged."
"You cannot prove fraud."
"Perhaps not tonight." Clara closed the case. "But I can refuse you tonight."
Pembroke's mouth twisted. "And when Whitmore Park is seized?"