A Surrendered Heart by Tracie Peterson

ruin both their power and reputations among their peers—not to mention the possibility of criminal proceedings. Of course, Mortimer didn’t need to worry about any of that now. But Jonas did. Fingers trembling, he reached across the desk and glanced at the folders.
    “Put that box up on my desk,” he commanded.
    Vincent lifted the box and slid it across the desk. “I have other things that require my attention this morning.” He picked up his coat and hat while Jonas riffled through the box of files.
    “I don’t see any files regarding my niece. Did you locate any files with the name Frances Jane Broadmoor?”
    “Indeed, there were a number of files with her name. They have been delivered to her,” Vincent replied. “Good day, Mr. Broadmoor.”
    Jonas didn’t look up. There was little doubt Vincent would detect his fear. He wanted to flail the man for giving any of the files to Fanny, but he dared not object. Besides, it wouldn’t change anything. The files were already in her possession.
    He removed the files from the box. One by one he opened the folders, each one revealing far more information than the last. Information that Mortimer had been instructed to destroy. And what if Vincent had retained some of the incriminating records? How would Jonas know until it was too late? He couldn’t recall even a portion of the paper work he had passed along to his lawyer. He could burn the records, but the thought gave Jonas no reassurance. Vincent could have shown the files to someone before turning them over.
    He silently chastised himself. In spite of Vincent’s protests, Jonas should have insisted upon retrieving his files the day Mortimer died. In his younger years, Jonas never would have permitted anyone to hold him at bay. Now he would suffer for his kindness. For that’s what his agreement had been: a simple act of kindness. What a fool he’d become in his old age!
    Strange how he’d believed that Mortimer had begun to lose his edge and bordered on senility. Under his façade of memory lapses, Mortimer had been intensely shrewd. There was little doubt he’d saved all these documents as insurance against any attempt at betrayal. The old man had safely maintained every record that could implicate Jonas and prove that he’d been the one to initiate the plan to use Fanny’s money. Use. Jonas liked the word use much better than steal or convert or embezzle. Use didn’t sound as though he’d intended any real harm to his niece or her assets. And if his financial hunches had been solid, her accounts wouldn’t have suffered. At least that’s what he told himself.
    Now Mortimer was dead, and Jonas was left to wrestle through this treachery. He would be the one who would suffer the loss of reputation, power, and money. Well, he wouldn’t give up easily. The Broadmoors weren’t among those who had only recently become rich. They were old money. That fact alone granted immense power and prestige. Power and prestige that Jonas wouldn’t relinquish—no matter the cost.
    For now, he must direct his attention to Fanny and those records Vincent had given her. How much did those files contain, and did she go through them? Surely Mortimer had heeded the instructions to destroy those incriminating records. But given what he’d found thus far, his doubts continued to rise. If Fanny had discovered his less-than-legitimate handling of her affairs, he needed the assurance of available cash to set things aright. Or at least to appease her until he could develop some story to convince her that none of this had been his doing. He yanked his coat from the chair where he’d tossed it earlier that morning. A visit with Jonathan Canby at the Profit Loan Association bank was in order.
    Jonas wasn’t going to beg, but he’d certainly remind Jonathan of the loyalty and preference he’d given his bank since it had opened its doors for business. Had it not been for Jonas, their father would have never considered moving his