“Do not even think it.”
“I cannot even—”
Philip held up one hand. “Let me finish.”
Robert fell silent, waiting. One corner of Philip’s mouth twitched, and a faint gleam appeared in his blue eyes, an uncanny resemblance to an expression Robert had seen in his own mirror a few times. “Duncan Rowbotham is a greedy man with a great deal of ambition and power. He has never really known failure, and as a result assumes his efforts will always meet with success. And as is usual with such men, his arrogance blinds him to his own flaws.” Philip gestured at the papers in Robert’s hands. “He sees his desires and a means to get them, without seeing what is on his flanks. And he acts as if he’s blind to the fact this country is in an economic crisis at the moment. Banks are failing but instead of looking to stabilize, he wants to consume, to grow his investments, and he thinks that he can use a blazing scandal to achieve those ends. He should read less Adam Smith and more Wellington.” He paused. “Why would Makendon need a shipping company and warehouse space?”
“To transport and store goods.”
“Why, when most of his current holdings are in London or attached to his country estates?”
Robert stiffened, recalling a conversation from the past Saturday night. “He is looking to expand. Factories in the north and shipments overseas.”
Philip nodded. “You have heard something.”
Robert took a deep breath, then repeated the conversation from Saturday night. As he did, Philip began to nod slowly. “As I thought. He wants to become involved with the Triangular trade routes. Who were those men?” When Robert mentioned their names, his father tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I know them. They have approached me with the same proposals.”
“I thought you wished to avoid the Triangular trade.”
“I do. Slavery is an abomination. We have abolished the slave trade here, but a great deal of money is still made in the colonies from it. I am encouraging our producers in the Caribbean to move away from it, but progress is slow. There are bills being discussed in Parl—” Philip broke off, his face reddening, his eyes bright. He looked at the fireplace a moment, then turned back to his son.
“He also wants you out of London.”
Robert gave a low snort of derision. “I know.” He glanced at the contract. “He put that in writing?”
“Two pages over. You must agree to live with Lady Lydia at the Makendon estate. I admit I have difficulty imagining you as a country gentleman in the borderlands.” He paused. “Do you truly wish to marry Lydia Rowbotham?”
A small glimmer of hope lit the back of Robert mind. “Father, the scandal of abandoning her at this point—and the Kennet line—”
“Put that aside for a moment. Are you only pursuing her for that reason? Would you truly want to join these two houses knowing now what the man’s ambitions are?”
That answer was crystal clear. “No. But—”
“Good.” Philip stood, pulled the pages from Robert’s grasp, and returned them to the portfolio. “These arrived yesterday. I will send Makendon a message that we need a few days of deliberation, given your attempts to divest yourself of Bill Campion’s properties. He will accept that as an excuse, since he had made that a condition of the betrothal as well.” He paused as Robert rose. “While he thinks we are stewing in his muck, I will be making my own negotiations on his flank.”
“What do you intend?”
Philip’s smile had a sly cast. “Never you worry. It’s best you not know for now.”
A knock signaled the arrival of the food. Robert opened the door, and as two of the coffee house workers brought in the platters, Philip looked over the sustenance with an approving gaze. The workers left, and they served themselves, settling at the table. Philip took several bites, murmuring his approval before taking a swig of the ale. He set the tankard aside and leaned back in his chair. “So tell me about Mr. Campion’s empire. I want to know if what I have heard is accurate.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it, Father, that I get the feeling that you already knew all of this was going to happen?”
Philip laughed. “Because, Robert, you are finally beginning to understand that a proper man knows everything that’s going on under his own roof, even if he never lets on that he does. That knowledge is powerful but not always spoken aloud. And that some events are best left to play out in their own course.”
“You do not really want me to sell Bill’s companies. Do you?”
His father took another bite of lamb. “As I mentioned earlier, there is the current economic setback to consider. And let us settle that what I want is what is best for my family, my estates and businesses, and my country, in that order of priority.”
“And a Society scandal?”
“Only as it effects those three. Now. Let us enjoy this rather delicious lamb, then we can discuss your next steps with your newly acquired businesses.”
*
Eloise stood justinside the closed door and looked around at her new abode—or, rather, the rooms of Lord Edmund Surrey—with an odd sense of nervousness. The landlord of the boarding house had looked askance at her as she had handed him the payment for the next three months—drawn from the pin money she had saved and her earnings from her bookkeeping clients—but more so because of the slender woman with the top-heavy mane of black hair who had clung to her arm, all flirtatious and solicitous, than Eloise’s appearance as a man.
“It’s all about drawing their eyes elsewhere,” Adrienne had mumbled as the landlord handed Eloise the key and shut the door, leaving them alone. Adrienne now wandered through the sitting room and bedchamber, opening windows and peeking into drawers. “It’s musty, but a bit of airing out will clear that. I must say bachelors live better than most working girls.”
