The Madcap Marriage by Allison Lane Page A

original investment officer two years earlier and sounded so apologetic that Rafe wanted to ram his teeth down his throat – an urge that grew as he considered how many investments Goddard might be handling.
    “And why is that?” demanded Helen.
    “Lord Alquist’s concerns seemed so bizarre that after his death, we felt it best to consult with his successor before proceeding further,” said Mr. Carstairs.
    “But you didn’t,” said Rafe shortly.
    “How do you know?”
    “Because I’m the successor – not that it matters. Overseeing the trust was never her guardian’s job. An audit should be a regular part of your procedures. When was it last done?”
    Goddard reddened. “Sir Arthur sent us copies of his annual reviews. We never needed to send a man out there.”
    “Actually, my father did no reviews,” said Helen crisply. “I have overseen Audley since this trust was established. I put together the annual summaries for my own records. Since you never requested further information…”
    “Well, um—”  Goddard was clearly at a loss for words.
    Helen met Formsby’s eye, raising her chin high enough that Rafe tensed. “Mr. Thomas is correct. Audits are a fiduciary responsibility that you have clearly ignored for four years. But that lapse pales beside these letters. Each is in a hand that is clearly not mine yet orders changes in the trust that are outside your power to grant. Since you breached the trust conditions in blatant disregard of your sworn duty, I will expect you to restore every shilling drained from my accounts through your negligence.”
    “We can’t—” began Formsby.
    “I wouldn’t finish that thought,” said Rafe quietly. It was time to end this farce. “Your position is shaky already. No competent trustee would put Goddard in charge of investments.”
    “What?” snapped Formsby as Carstairs cringed.
    “He is known throughout the investment community for his ineptitude. What return did he show last year?  Two percent?  One percent?  Losses?”
    “What with the war and the weather—” began Goddard.
    “Poppycock!” snapped Rafe. “My man of business made eight percent despite those problems. Most years he returns much more. Sir Arthur would be appalled at your performance. Men show better returns by placing all money in three-percent Consols.” Rafe glared at Formsby. “This smacks of deliberate sabotage. You needed something for Goddard to do, so you put him in charge of a lady’s affairs, assuming that she wouldn’t notice his incompetence. Your brother-in-law, isn’t he?”
    Goddard reddened. Carstairs looked ready to swoon. Formsby feebly stuttered.
    “This meeting has lasted long enough,” said Helen, rising. “I want a detailed report on trust assets within the week, Mr. Formsby. And you have four weeks to conduct a full audit and restore every shilling paid out improperly. That includes funds siphoned from my regular accounts, funds deposited in fraudulent accounts, and the restoration of any securities sold without my authorization. We will discuss further measures at our next meeting.”
    Formsby nodded. “The matter will be dealt with immediately. I will assign my best—”
    “We will send our own representative to supervise.” Rafe watched Formsby swallow an objection.
    Helen nodded. “I will insist that my own man of business oversee the trust in the future. In the meantime, Mr. Goddard will buy or sell nothing without my direct authorization. Is that clear?” 
    Formsby and Carstairs nodded. Goddard looked like someone had kicked him.
    Rafe offered Helen his arm. “Gentlemen.” He escorted her from the room.
     

Chapter Five
     
    “Do you know a good man of business?” asked Rafe, sliding his arm around Helen’s shoulders as the carriage headed home.
    Tremors shivered under her skin. He hoped it was pleasure at his touch, but he suspected it was fury at Formsby’s obsequious condescension.
    Disturbing heat swept his body as she snuggled