Due Dilligence

The figures all matched up.  There were no irregularities in the reports.  Miss Blanchard was a well-known barrister of good repute.

And yet ...

Doubt lingered.  Forty-five thousand pieces of gold was a large amount of money, raising it would strain her finances severely and losing the money would set back her plans for years.

Was Miss Blanchard attempting to cheat her?  Doubtful.  Miss Blanchard did not strike her as one to risk her position and career, let alone her life, to swindle one noble.

A plot by her enemies?  Possibly.  But she doubted Miss Blanchard would allow herself to be used in such a manner, and her enemies were less than subtle on most occasions.  No.  There were easier and more direct avenues of attack.

So then.  It appeared Miss Blanchard's scheme was probably honest and likely to be profitable.  Extremely profitable. 

But why her?  The thought nagged.  Her own influence was considerable, but there were other nobles who were both richer and more powerful.  And there were those both poorer and less influential. 

The feather of her quill pen tapped against her lips as she thought.

She stood at the perfect nexus for Miss Blanchard's plans.  Enough power to make the scheme a reality, but not enough to take it over.  Wealthy enough to finance it, but not so wealthy as not to be tempted by the prospects.

A risk, yes.  But there was no opportunity without risk.  She understood that well enough.

She spared a glance at the blood-spattered parchment on the work table; her calculations and the divinations matched.  That was always a good sign.  She would sign Miss Blanchard's documents.

And if Miss Blanchard failed her?  She looked down at the body on the table.  If Miss Blanchard failed, she would find a use for her.