by Ella Edon
David had a sudden urge to kiss her. He needed to take a step back.
Peter laughed. He didn’t seem to have noticed his brother’s discomfort.“I think we forgot to introduce ourselves.” He took off his hat and bowed. “Lieutenant Peter Harrison, at your service. And this is my twin brother, the Honorable Mr. David Harrison.”
David cleared his throat. Now he was feeling inadequate next to his brother. At least Peter had a title. “Just simple Mister, I’m afraid,” he added.
But she was looking at him. It wasn’t Peter she was staring at, but at him. Then she gave him a sweet smile that David felt deep in his gut and held out a hand.
“Miss Arabella Powell.”
David took the hand, and bowed over it. He kissed her knuckles and glanced up as she gasped. He saw her startled expression, but also how her eyes had darkened. God, she was beautiful.
David cleared his throat and straightened up. He couldn’t stay bowed over her hand forever.
“Would you like us to escort you home, Miss Powell?”
“No, I…” Arabella licked her lips. David was captivated by the movement. “I can manage.”
“Would you like help gathering more water?”
“I said I can manage.” Flushing, Arabella lowered her head and hurried past them, brushing against David’s arm. “Good day, sirs.”
Both brothers watched her hurry back to the well and begin to turn the handle again. Peter made an approving sound in his throat.
“My, she’s beautiful.”
“She certainly is.” David murmured.
“Back off, David.” Peter slapped his cane across David’s chest. “She’s mine. I saw her first.”
“I was simply making an observation, Peter. I wasn’t making this into a competition.”
“But I am.” Peter’s eyes narrowed at him. “Keep away from Arabella Powell. She belongs to me.”
David raised his hands and stepped back. “Steady! You’ve got her. I’m not interested.”
But, even as he said it, David realized that was a lie. He was interested. There had been something in the air between them, and it was intense. David would normally take a step back if Peter had made a claim on a woman, but not this time.
This time, David knew Arabella was his.
Chapter Two
London, England
Nine Years Later
David fished out a gold coin from his purse and pressed it into the steward’s hand as he walked past.
“Thank you, Frank. I’ll see you again soon.”
“Good evening, Mister Harrison.”
David collected his cloak and hat from the footman by the door and put them on. He was worn out, and all he had done was sit by the fire and read all evening. Everyone left David alone, knowing that he could get engrossed in a book for hours. It wasn’t until Frank the steward told him what time it was that David remembered he had to go back to his father’s London home and get an early night. It was going to be a long journey down to Cornwall so, David could catch the boat that travelled straight to Kinsale.
He had to get back to Kinsale and check on the land. Hopefully, it was as prosperous as it had been the previous month. The weather was perfect for a solid season and David was looking forward to seeing the books showing profits. They needed it. The profits he would be using for himself. And then, the slate would be wiped clean.
David hated being in debt to anyone, but there had been no way around it. He had built up the reputation of being reliable, of being able to take care of his workers. His father had entrusted the farming land to David’s care a few years before, and David had promised to make it flourish. And it had until recent months. Even with things picking up, it was going to take a while to return to how it had been. David didn’t want to go back to his father and say he had let things get out of hand by not paying close attention to the accounts. Even visiting his son’s extended family in England, Ian Harrison knew everything. He kept his ear to the ground. If he knew what David had done to make sure things kept on track, he was going to be furious. Peter had already seen that side of their father, and David didn’t want to have it directed at him.
It was pitch black as David went outside. He could barely see anything beyond the railings lining the park across the street. The air was significantly colder, and David could see his breath in front of his face. Considering this was the middle of October, that was odd. David was used to it being warmer well into November. Even with the air coming off the Atlantic Ocean, Kinsale managed to stay warmer for far longer.
Then again, this was England. In England, anything could happen, including terrible weather.
Turning up the collar on his cloak, David stepped onto the cobbles and headed in the direction of his father’s house. Whenever he was in town, Ian always let David make use of the lodgings he had bought a few years back shortly after his wife died. David and Geoffrey had used it on frequent visits to London. It was now to be gifted to Geoffrey and his new wife once they came back from honeymoon in the north of Ireland.
For now, David was making the most of it.
“Harrison.”
David stopped and turned. He hadn’t realized there was someone in the shadows. Even as he squinted into the dark, David could barely make the outline of the person lurking there. Until the man stepped out, giving David a smirk. David groaned. Not now. He wasn’t in the mood.
“What do you want, Simpson?”
“Is that all I’m going to get from you?” Stephen Simpson spread his hands. “No polite greeting? No asking after my health?”
“Seeing as you’re as healthy as a horse, I think asking after it would be rather pointless.”
Simpson chuckled. “Point taken.”
David’s skin crawled whenever the man was around. He liked fine clothes, and he swanned around as if he owned half of London. Barely coming up to David’s chin, Stephen Simpson was a middle-aged man with a slightly portly figure, dark hair cut close to his head to disguise the obvious receding hairline, and a slight dusting of a beard across his square jaw. There wasn’t anything remarkable about him, apart from the fact he looked out of place wearing clothes almost as expensive as David’s garments.
But, David had figured out pretty quickly that appearances were deceptive. This man was not one you would ask after his health. He was something else. David tapped his cane on the cobbles.
“What are you doing here? This isn’t your part of town.”
Simpson snickered. “Come on, Harrison, you don’t need to ask. You know why I’m here.”
“And I told you the last time you approached me, you’ll get paid when you get paid. I gave you a specific date.”
He hadn’t missed the date, had he? David was sure he had said at the end of October. He had at least two weeks left. Didn’t he?
“Maybe you did, but the interest goes up from the day you took out a loan with me.” Simpson folded his arms. “And it’s the interest that I’m concerned about.”
“You never said anything about interest.”
“I thought you knew from your brother how I operated. As soon as the loan is taken out, interest immediately starts to build.”
David didn’t know that. He had heard about Simpson when he heard Peter ranting about owing Simpson money for one of his own debts. It was a stupid move to go to the same man who had a book solely for Peter’s debts, but David didn’t know who else to go to. He wasn’t about to ask any of his friends if they knew someone who could let him borrow some money short-term; it would always end up going back to Ian. David didn’t want to feel like a failure when he had that conversation with his father.
“That’s illegal, surely?”
“Any more illegal than you coming to me begging for help?” Simpson shot back.
He had a point. David swallowed. He knew he wasn’t going to like this. “How much is the loan now?”
“Twelve hundred pounds.”
“What?” David thought he had misheard, but Simpson’s s
mirk said he certainly hadn’t. “That...that’s extortion!”
“A big word for a farmer,” Simpson sneered.
That was ridiculous. He couldn’t do that, surely? David’s arithmetic wasn’t that good when trying to do it on the spot, but he knew the interest on that was not even on the scale. Even if he was late on the payment and the interest was five percent, it wouldn’t have gotten so high. Not unless he didn’t pay the amount loaned for a couple of years.
“You’ll get the money I borrowed from you at the arranged date, Simpson,” David growled. “Not before. And certainly with no interest, seeing as I’m not late.”
He turned away, hoping that this would be the end of the conversation, but then Simpson grabbed his arm.
“I believe you’re going to have to rethink what you’ve just said, Mr. Harrison,” he said quietly. “Remember what happens when money isn’t paid in full or not at all? I’m sure your brother has told you about all the...antics that he’s had involving the two of us. Seeing as sailors are at sea all the time, you’d think he would be a bit more...prompt in paying up.”
David did know. Even when he was being shot at by the French and Spanish on the Atlantic Ocean, Peter Harrison still managed to find time to get into fights in back alleys. David didn’t want to count how many times Peter had come back beaten up.
He shook Simpson off. “You do realize that beating me up is going to have my father coming after you.” He added, “He won’t tolerate your behaviour.”
Simpson chuckled. It wasn’t a very nice sound.
“Threatening me with your father, are you? You were concerned about him knowing you had nothing in your account when you came to me. You didn’t want him to find out that you had been a little careless with the allowance he had given you specifically for the estate.” His eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “Do you really want him to know there’s nothing left?”
He did have a point. Ian would be furious. But he wouldn’t turn his back on David, would he? David squared his shoulders.“He’ll stand by me,” he declared.
“Will he?” Simpson purred. “Or will he disown you for good once he finds out what you needed the money for?”
“Don’t make it sound salacious. You know what I needed the money for.” David shook his hand off and stepped back. “Go away, Simpson. No interest, load paid in full on the last day of October. And don’t even think about sending people after me.”
“I don’t need to.” Simpson dusted down his waistcoat. “I do that myself.”
David looked him over. He was easily a head taller than Simpson, and bigger. What could Simpson have up his sleeve that could overpower him? David had grown up having scuffles with both of his brothers. Dealing with this little slimy bastard would be easy.
He twirled his cane, tapping the head into his hand. Then he snapped the cane out. The heavy end of the cane caught Simpson in the face, knocking him back a few paces. Simpson cried out and clutched at his nose. David lowered his cane and braced his feet, ready for a fight.
“Try it, Simpson,” he challenged. “Just try it.”
Simpson lowered his hands and stared at them. Blood covered his fingers, and David could see more blood on his face. The man looked up at David with stunned outrage. He snarled and started towards David.
“David?”
Simpson jerked back like he had been shot. David looked around to see Peter hurrying out of the club. He hadn’t realized his brother had been inside. Peter jogged over to David’s side.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” David gave Simpson a pointed look. “Mr Simpson was just leaving.”
Simpson bared his yellowed teeth, hissing at him. “I’ll make you pay for that, Harrison,” he growled. “You’ll regret laying a finger on me.”
“Try it.” David advanced on him. “I dare you.”
Simpson faltered and started to back away as David stalked towards him. Then, he hurried away, mumbling something that sounded like obscenities as he crossed the street. David let out a heavy sigh. He then realized his hands were shaking.
“David?”
David looked up. Peter was watching him curiously. It had been a while since his brother had witnessed David lash out. David licked his lips and swallowed. “I’m all right. Just get me out of here.”
Peter nodded grimly. “Happy to oblige.”
* * *
David barely remembered the journey home. He had been bundled into the carriage Peter had flagged down and then they were hurried back to the townhouse. David had stared at his hands, at the cuts on his knuckles as he felt the throbbing in his fingers, unaware of the world moving by.
The bastard Simpson thought he could get more money out of him? Not a chance. Twelve hundred pounds from a one hundred pound lend was ridiculous. And David wasn’t even late with the repayment. He hadn’t even reached the deadline. Simpson seemed to making up the rules as he went along.
If he tried that next time their paths crossed, David would make sure Simpson never attempted that on him again. After that swipe, Simpson would know that while David was more even-tempered than his brother, he could certainly snap given the right push.
The carriage pulled up outside their father’s townhouse. Peter paid the driver and tugged David up the steps and inside. David tripped over the carpet as he came into the hall, his hat slipping off and bouncing across the room. From the far end of the hall, a middle-aged man with thinning red hair in a smart suit entered and walked towards them.
“Mr. Harrison. Captain Harrison.” He greeted them cordially as he picked up the hat, barely missing a step as he did. “How was your evening out?”
“It was...eventful,” David murmured. He was still staring at his hands as the butler undid his cloak and slid it off his shoulders. Roberts frowned at him.
“Are you well, Mr. Harrison?”
“David?” Peter was at his side, shaking his arm.
David hadn’t realized he had started to tune everyone out. He was still replaying the scene in the street in his head, wondering if there was a way it could have gone better. He hated confrontation. David shrugged off his brother as Peter shook his arm harder.
“I’m fine, Peter. Leave off.”
“You’re pale, David. You’re clearly not.”
David snorted. “Can you blame me? Simpson threatened me. How can I be calm after that?”
“It’s going to take a lot to threaten you, and Simpson’s small-time.” Peter shrugged off his cloak, handing it to Roberts. “We’re going to be in the morning room, Roberts. No one is to disturb us unless someone’s dying.”
“Yes, Captain Harrison.”
Roberts walked away and Peter led David into the room off to the left. The curtains had already been drawn across the huge windows and the fire was blazing in the grate. Candles had been lit around the room, flickering as the two men headed towards the settee by the fire. Peter pushed David down and started pacing around on the hearth rug. David groaned and pressed his hands to his eyes.
“Please, Peter, don’t do that again. You’re making me dizzy.”
“It’s not any worse than what you’ve done,” Peter shot back, rounding on his brother. “What were you doing taking a loan from a lender in the first place? And from Stephen Simpson, for God’s sake!”
“You mentioned that you used him to get some money in the past, and I needed a little extra to help out with paying our workers their wages.” David hated the fact that he sounded like he was whining. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“Clearly, it wasn’t.” Peter snorted. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “You should’ve spoken to me more about it, known the lay of the land before you ran head-first into it. I would have told you that asking Simpson was the worst idea possible.”
“It was barely one hundred pounds!” David shot back. “That I can easily pay back. We just fell short last month because the crops didn’t do as well as they should.”
Everything had picked up after that momentary falter, and David was determined to get things back on track. His workers did their best, and they never let him down. He wanted to make sure that he could do the same for them.
Peter sighed and shook his head. “Your heart is far too soft when it comes to our Irish estate, David.”
“What’s wrong with that? I promised Pa I would take over the farming land and keep it up to scratch as he had done. And that’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re still too soft.” Peter dropped onto the couch across from David, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, brother, Simpson has nothing on you. You’re a bachelor with an impeccable reputation. He should know that you’re a man of your word.”
