This was a subject Thomas did not wish to explore. “No one in particular.”
“Then what sort of a young lady are you searching for?”
Thomas gave that some thought. “Someone who is open, honest, caring. She must be able to get along well with Grandmamma and have the ability to help me manage an estate the size of Pemberton.”
Helena laughed. “It sounds as though you are seeking an estate manager, not a wife.”
Thomas wagged his head. He had to admit there was some truth in what she said. “Then perhaps you know better than I do.”
“Then might I make a suggestion?”
“Please,” he said without a great deal of enthusiasm.
“The morning I stopped by, not long ago, you had rescued my friend, Jenny, from the rain.”
“That is correct.”
“And I could not help but notice how your face lit up when she came into the room in that quite lovely dress.”
“Yes, that is true, I was happy to see her.”
“And I know her to be the very finest of young ladies. She is educated, comes from a well-respected family in the community—although they are not of the nobility—and I believe is far superior to those snooty London ladies you have been entertaining.”
“Oh, Helena, are you suggesting I should consider your friend as a future Duchess?”
“And why not?” she asked, taking another of the delicious teacakes.
Thomas sighed. And even though the thought had crossed his own mind more than once, he said, “You know what is expected of me, Helena. I am not free to marry just anyone. I am a part of society that expects me to marry within the aristocracy. I cannot disregard those interests. And, although, I find Miss Jenny quite charming… she is, after all… a baker. And certainly you, as the daughter of an Earl, know full well the restrictions placed upon us.”
“I do. And that is exactly the restriction I have been fighting against. George is not an aristocrat, and I fully intend to marry him.”
That silenced Thomas, for he saw her point and had been supporting her choice of George. Perhaps the heart was not so easily influenced by the strictures of social convention.
Thomas tried again, by saying, “But you have to admit, Helena, although Miss Jenny is charming, she is a bit rough around the edges. When I happened to see her at the bakery, she looked like a serving wench. Her hair was a mess. Her clothes were spotted and shabby and one has to admit that she and her family are tradesmen.”
“Thomas, I am surprised at you. I never thought of you as a snob.”
That took Thomas by surprise. “I have nothing against her, and I would never demean her, Helena, but I cannot disregard my station in life. I must adhere to certain standards as the Duke of Pemberton.”
Helena stood and began putting on her gloves. “Thank you for tea, Thomas. And thank you for helping me with my father. But I think you are making a big mistake not considering Miss Jenny. And one day I may forgive you for your narrow-mindedness, but it may take me a day or two.”
She glared her disapproval. “Thomas,” she said with an abrupt nod as she exited.
“Helena,” he answered equally curt.
George and Thomas were pouring over the rough draft of their proposal.
“It looks fine on paper, but how accurate do you know these figures to be? And how long do you estimate it will take before we see a profit?” George asked.
“I think your guess is as good as mine,” Thomas replied. “We are dealing with live animals here—buying, selling, breeding, racing. There are so many variables. I would not be able to hazard a guess as to when or even how much the profit could be.”
“Then how are we going to convince anyone to invest with us?” George asked very sensibly.
Thomas walked away from his desk and began to pace. “Are we being fools to consider such a venture?”
“I certainly hope not. We know this can work, for we have seen others who have been very successful. But perhaps we are not experienced enough to take on such a project,” George said.
“I think we have each been successful on the various elements, but we have never put them all together.”
George studied the plan again. “And this is how much we need to begin the operation?”
“I believe that is accurate.”
“And you say Ralph is interested?”
“I believe he can be convinced,” Thomas said, coming back to the desk.
“And how are we to maintain a living until we start seeing a profit? You have estate expenses. I want to be able to establish a home with Helena. How can any of this be possible? I can certainly continue living at home, unmarried, for a while, but you need a considerable amount of money to maintain your land and your household.”
“I still have enough income from my other investments to manage the estate, but I have also factored in some money for your maintenance in the budget—but it is not a lot.”
“And we must have cash to purchase the horses we need to get started.”
“Besides the two I already have, I have a few mares and stallions in mind to add. And several of the owners are friends I might be able to convince to give us credit,” Thomas said.
George was concerned. “I would feel a lot better if we were fully financed and could do business without asking favors. It just does not feel right to start our new venture being heavily in debt and not knowing what the outcomes might be.”
“You are absolutely correct, George. And I am glad to have your sound perspective on these matters.”
George turned and suggested, “Then let me speak to my father. Perhaps he might be willing to invest. If we had Father and Ralph, and if you could come up with a few more investors, we might be able to get started. Do you think that is possible?”
“I would need to go to London. And I do have a banker who has worked with my family for many years. He might be willing to help us.”
“Then let me speak to Father and see what he might be willing to do, and then we can meet again.” George looked at the proposal. “Might I have a copy of this to take to him? I know he will want to study it before deciding.”
“Yes, let me prepare that, and then we can meet again tomorrow.”
Chapter 15
Thomas was in the stables examining the two horses he already had in his possession—the mare George’s father had been interested in—and a colt he had recently obtained, that was as yet untrained, but which showed great promise as a racer.
“What do you think, Barnstable, is he old enough for the track?” Thomas asked as he and his trainer were examining the colt.
Barnstable answered, “I can start working with him,” he said nodding, “but you must be prepared to wait for at least a year before he’ll be up to the race. Maybe longer. Each horse… very different. Depends on his temperament and how quickly he can learn.”
“Then I would like to get started right away. I should like to try him out in next year’s St. Leger, if possible.”
“We can try, Your Grace… but just sayin’… Patience be the game.” He touched his cap and led the horse back into the stall.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Thomas called out and headed back to the house.
As he was crossing the entryway toward his study, he came across his Grandmother coming down the staircase. He stopped when he saw her.
“I did not know you had returned,” he greeted with a smile.
“Only back half an hour. And we need to talk.”
He could tell from her tone that it was going to be serious.
“Very well, shall we chat in my study?”
“If you like, although the room tends to be a bit too drafty for my constitution.”
Thomas laughed. “I am sorry, I did not realize. Then shall we sit in the trophy room? I believe it should keep you cozy.”
She nodded, and they went to the room where the old Duke had hung his hunting trophies. Thomas found it a gloomy room and he seldom used it. I
t smelled stale and musty, but he figured there were no drafts to disturb his Grandmamma.
After settling into the leather chair, he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, and asked, “Now then, my dear, how was your trip? Did you have a successful outcome to your investigation?”
Augusta sat very erect opposite Thomas and fussed with her handkerchief.
“Aside from a little shopping and visiting briefly with a few friends, I had a very disappointing meeting with your uncle.”
“I am not going to like this, am I?”
Augusta shook her head. “Not likely.” She then proceeded to narrate the details of the meeting. She added, “So, you see, there is almost no likelihood that he can restore our funds to us, and I can see no way to legally pursue him without creating a huge scandal, as you said previously. And, even if we won a suit against him, he has absolutely no liquid assets. There would be nothing to collect after all his creditors were paid.”
“And the fact that he stole the money from us does not make us legally a creditor?” Thomas asked.
“I think it means he could be sent to prison and there would be no way he could repay us anything from there.”
“You mentioned he had a plan to recover. Did he tell you what it was?”
“I am afraid not. He was most mysterious about it. And knowing him now as I do, I am suspicious it might not be totally above board. I urged him to find work, but he was horrified at the idea—as a gentleman, he said.”
Thomas considered that and said, “And quite frankly, Grandmamma, I have no idea what kind of work he would be qualified for. He has no education in anything practical like law or medicine or even business. He would be lucky to find employment as a dustman.”
“Then it seems we need to find our own solutions,” she said after a moment of reflection.
“And I have been working on exactly that,” he said with a smile and told her of his new venture with George.
“And how exactly do you propose to finance this new operation in your present situation? Have you thought about selling any land?” she asked quite sensibly.
“I am reluctant to sell any of the estate. I feel it would be betraying the family. To answer your question, I am looking to find a few investors.”
“But this sounds to me like a long-time venture. It is not something that is going to bring in immediate money, is it?”
Thomas smiled as he realized what a sharp businesswoman his grandmother was. “Not immediately. But in the long run, it can be very profitable.”
“And what is the estate to run on in the meantime?”
“You must remember, not all of my investments are gone. The estate still makes enough to maintain itself—and us—if we live modestly.”
Grandmother gave Thomas her look. He had grown up with it, and he knew she was about to pounce.
“Thomas, Wilcox was right about one thing—we need to find you a wife. A suitable lady with a handsome living. All this talk of horses and racing and breeding sounds all very well, but you have a responsibility to the dukedom… to yourself… and to me. You need stability, and it seems to me the only way to recover from our terrible losses is to find you a wife. We cannot count on Wilcox to make us whole and, despite your elegant solution to the problem with the horses, I feel it is too uncertain.
“I want us to give a ball here at Pemberton. I want to invite the most perfectly eligible young ladies of class and distinction and I want you to find and choose a wife with money as soon as possible. That is what I think. Now, when can we schedule such an event, and I shall get started organizing it?”
“And how are we to pay for this extravaganza?”
“My bank account may be nearly depleted, but I still have my jewelry. I have a diamond bracelet I find to be a bit gauche, and it will more than cover the cost of the ball.”
“But Grandmamma, I cannot have you selling your jewelry for my benefit.”
“Who else am I to spend it on? Your Uncle is now persona non grata. The most important thing right now is to find you a Duchess.”
Thomas replied, “I shall tell you what I told Wilcox. I am not about to be bullied into accepting a wife I do not care for. I will acquiesce to your request for a ball, but I shall not promise to marry anyone unless she suits me perfectly. Is that also understood?”
Augusta smiled. “We are like a couple of hard-headed butting rams, are we not?” He was not budging. “Very well, I shall organize the ball. You carry on with your plans, and we now have two options open for us toward recovery.”
Wilcox climbed the stairs of the dingy tenement building in East London. He made sure he had easy access to his pistol—just in case. Arriving at the top floor he knocked lightly on the door which was opened by a small woman.
“I have been sent by Cranston,” he said. “I am here to see Ezra Stanton.”
“And who be you?” the woman asked.
“I am Wilcox Mowbray.”
She closed the door without saying anything else, and Wilcox waited.
The door was swiftly flung open, and a man appeared. He was rough in appearance and had a disfiguring scar slashed across his forehead and down his left cheek. “Cranston sent you?” he asked.
“Said we might be able to do some business. If you are Ezra Stanton.”
“I am. Come in.”
The man opened the door and admitted Wilcox inside.
The room was neither a dwelling nor quite an office. Even though it was broad daylight, the room was dark and lit by a single oil lamp sitting on the only table with two chairs on either side.
The two men sat on the chairs and stared at each other for a moment sizing each other up.
“Cranston tells me you need transport,” Wilcox opened.
“I need reliable transport and remote and secure docking. Customs and Revenue are all over my old routes.”
“Hmm. I might be able to help. But it would need to be in the West Country.”
“That would be my best option as well.”
“And I want fifteen percent—off the top,” Wilcox demanded.
Ezra shook his head. “Not a chance. Five percent on tobacco, six percent on chocolate, and I can go to eight percent on spirits. My best offer.”
“Let us say six and a half percent on all items. Simplifies bookkeeping and is less of a hassle,” Wilcox countered.
“Six percent.”
Wilcox stood. “You are wasting my time. Good day, sir.” And Wilcox turned to leave.
“Wait. Wait. Tell me what your plans are, and then we can see.”
Wilcox sat back down and drummed his fingers on the table. “I have access to a major shipping company in the West Country. They trade to the Americas, Asia, Anatolia, India, and even parts of Africa. What do you say? Are you interested?”
“Can you provide me with the routes and sample cargo manifests? I want to see what you are talking about. And I need to know where the goods will be stored and how I can access the warehouses without annoying government supervision. Can you do that?”
Wilcox hesitated. “It might take me a while, but I am certain I can. And I will need the shipping invoice paid in full at the same time I get my commission.”
“Get me the information, and then we might be able to come to an agreement—but not before. You know where to find me.” And Ezra stood up. It was clear it was time for Wilcox to leave.
While Thomas was primarily occupied with the new business, he was also struggling with his concerns about his grandmother’s proposed ball. He believed he knew his grandmother’s proposed guest list. They would be the usual young, aristocratic ladies from the local area with enough guests from London to make for a good selection of potential countesses. He knew them all, and there would not be a fresh face amongst them—unless Grandmamma had resources of which he was unaware.
Thomas could not help himself. He found he was back in Chatsworth and headed toward the Barnett Bakery. Jenny… Jenny… why could he not get her out of his mind? Sh
e was totally inappropriate and absolutely devastating at the same time. He knew full well this errand was not his to do. He had a staff to attend to these matters. It was insane. He was insane. But he was doing it just the same.
He reined in his horse and dismounted in front of the shop.
Inside, he was greeted by the young lad who had helped him with the teacakes on his first visit.
“I should like to speak to Miss Jenny, if I may, young man.”
A Pure Lady for the Broken Duke Page 11
