The Masterful Mr. Montague Read Online Free PDF Page A

not to take up too much of your time.”
    Taking her hand, Montague bowed over it. “Not at all, ma’am. I’m keen to learn what the issue with your bank account might be.”
    “Is that so?” Lady Halstead waved to the armchair to her left. “In that case, please sit.”
    As he did, Miss Matcham passed several documents to her ladyship. Turning to him, Lady Halstead held out the papers. “This is a copy of the bank’s statement of the payments into and out of my bank account over the last six months.”
    Accepting the sheets, Montague scanned them as Lady Halstead continued, “You will see I have circled various deposits. Those deposits are a complete mystery to me—I have no notion whatever of who is paying that money into my account, much less why.”
    Montague inwardly blinked. Flicking through the five sheets her ladyship had supplied, doing calculations in his head . . . “I have to admit”—he looked up at Lady Halstead, then at Miss Matcham—“that I had imagined your irregularities would prove to be some confusion on the bank’s part, or else a matter of embezzlement.” He looked again at the statements. “But this is quite different.”
    “Indeed.” Lady Halstead sounded vindicated. “Young Runcorn, my man-of-business, believes the payments must derive from some old, forgotten investment that has only now started to pay a return.”
    Studying the figures, Montague shook his head. “I know of no financial instrument that pays in this manner. The payments are roughly monthly but are not regular enough to be specified by any financial contract—for instance, the repayment of a debt. Such payments would come in on a fixed date of every month. And as for investment dividends, I know of no company that pays monthly amounts. Insurance companies might pay certain stipends monthly, but again, they would be on a fixed date.” He paused, then added, “As for the size of the payments, they amount to a considerable sum.”
    He looked at Lady Halstead. “How long has this been going on?”
    “Fourteen months, I believe.”
    He glanced again at the amounts. “At a similar rate?”
    “More or less.”
    Montague’s head was whirling, his financial brain trying to find some pattern that these payments would fit, but there wasn’t one. He was sure of it. As for the total sum paid into her ladyship’s account over the past fourteen months, would that he could find an investment for his clients that returned such a result.
    “I’ll have to look into it.” His financial self wouldn’t be able to let the puzzle lie.
    “Thank you. I will, of course, meet your customary fee.”
    “No.” He looked up, the underlying boredom—ignored, suppressed, and largely unacknowledged—that had assailed him for months rising high in his mind; that dull, deadening feeling had been growing increasingly weighty, dragging him down, until Miss Matcham had arrived to tempt him. “I would, in all honesty, consider it a favor were you to allow me to investigate this matter.” Aside from all else, it would allow him to continue to meet with Miss Matcham. “I was feeling rather jaded, but this”—he held up the papers—“is challenging. At least for a gentleman like me. The satisfaction of finding an answer for you—and myself—will be payment enough.”
    Lady Halstead arched her brows, considered him for a long moment, but then nodded. “If that is what you wish, then so be it.” She glanced at Miss Matcham.
    Who met Montague’s gaze, then dipped her head, indicating the papers he still held. “That’s a copy you may take with you. Is there anything else you need?”
    He held her gaze for an instant, quite surprised by the tenor of the answers rolling through his mind. Then he concentrated and frowned. “Actually, yes. I would like the style and direction of her ladyship’s man-of-business . . . Runcorn. And also”—he looked at Lady Halstead—“I will need a letter of authority to act as your