Several moments later, the servant left. Hervé hated this place. The heat was far worse than the Languedoc region of France, where his family’s estate was located. He would not have been required to come here at all if his former sister-in-law, Sidonie Wivenly, had not refused to consider the excellent marriage he proposed for Eugénie. Yet she had, and the only option he could think of was to convince Mr. Nathan Wivenly to his side.
Hervé had only wanted to speak with the man before Wivenly reached St. Thomas. Then the pirate he’d hired made a mess of things, killing the crew and abducting Nathan Wivenly. Hervé was certain that the man would have come around to the marriage—after all, he was a man of the world—but he was still on death’s door when Hervé had to leave Martinique and travel to St. Thomas. Now time was running short, and Wivenly would probably not be disposed to help Hervé. The only choice was to keep the man where he was until Eugénie was wed.
Imbéciles et incompétents.Now Hervé was forced to use Shipley. Who’d already attempted to forcibly abduct Eugénie and failed.
What should have been a simple matter of making a good marriage for his niece and the house of Villaret de Joyeuse had turned into a farce. Sidonie had no business refusing him. Eugénie owed something to her father’s family. That was the purpose of a woman, to wed in furtherance of her family’s well-being. Sidonie owed him as well. After all, Hervé had allowed her to keep the child. He sighed. No good deed goes unpunished. He should have insisted the child be brought to France years ago after her father died. Still, perhaps it was better Eugénie had remained in the West Indies. With the situation being so unsettled for years in Southern France, anything could have happened to her. When the door opened, he glanced up.
“Monsieur.” Shipley held his hat in his hands and bowed. “I’ve been told a few more days is all it will take for the widow to agree to anything.”
Hervé slammed his fist down on the table, making the standish and Shipley jump. “Non. I will not wait any longer. You shall go to-day.”
“But monsieur, the final report of the company’s demise has not yet been delivered to Mrs. Wivenly.”
Why was he surrounded by stupid people? “You will do as I have told you. Make the offer to buy the company with an additional one thousand pounds to be settled on Mademoiselle Villaret. Raise the amount if you have to. I want that girl.”
Shipley,le grossier, backed out of the room bowing. “I’ll do it this afternoon, monsieur.”
It was going on four o’clock when Will dismissed the clerk for the day. He’d eaten luncheon at his desk while he juggled the various books and contracts. At least he had begun to understand the shipping business a little. He’d have to get someone in to manage it before he left, but it was important to be conversant with the workings of the company. His aunt and uncle’s son, Benet, was still at Eton, and much too young to take over. There was also the problem of what to do with the rest of the family. He didn’t like the idea of leaving without a man to watch over them. Will poured another glass of rum.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and a moment later Andrew appeared at the door, grinning like a loon. “Given up already, or did you sack the clerk as well?”
Leaning back in the large wooden chair, Will replied, “His name is Smithwick.” He lifted the bottle. “Rum?”
“I believe I will, but you shouldn’t have any more.” Andrew sank down into one of the two chairs on the other side of the large desk. “Now that your name is out, you need to introduce yourself to your aunt. It wouldn’t do for her to discover you are in St. Thomas at the party tomorrow evening.”
“My aunt is in mourning. I doubt she’ll be present, but you’re right, some busybody is bound to tell her between now and then.”
Andrew checked his watch for the second time in as many minutes. “Her eldest daughter will attend.”
“Without her mother to chaperone?” Will had forgotten he had the step-daughter to deal with as well. And with everything else going on, he’d had no opportunity to search for his mysterious lady.
“Yes,” Andrew continued, “it appears the Whitecliffs are good friends with the Wivenlys.” He glared at Will. “Their daughters were raised together.”
What the devil was wrong with that? “Very well. I’ll go now.” “Good,” his friend said curtly.
Will grabbed his hat and cane. “How did your luncheon go?”
“Quite well. I’ll accompany you to Main Street.”
As soon as they’d attained the street, Andrew walked off in the opposite direction. That was strange. Will hoped there wasn’t something amiss at his aunt’s house. Unlikely. If there was, surely Andrew would have said something. Good thing Will had made a point of discovering the location of Wivenly House earlier.
When he arrived, Will knocked on the front door. It wasn’t large by English standards, but from what he’d seen in the West Indies, it was substantial.
An older black man dressed as a butler opened the door. “Yes, sir. How may I help you?”
Will handed the man his card. At least he knew his uncle didn’t keep slaves. He paid all his servants and employees fair wages, which was the reason, up until Howden, there had been no problems.
“Lord Wivenly.” The butler’s face was as impassive as any he’d seen in England. In fact, the man reminded him of his father’s butler, albeit much darker. “Mrs. Wivenly will be very glad you have arrived.”
Will inclined his head slightly.
The man took his hat, gloves, and cane. “If you will come with me, my lord?”
He followed the butler down a short corridor to a large room whose oversized windows and doors gave views onto the harbor.
“Lord Wivenly has come, ma’am.”
A slender, dark-haired woman garbed in black rose to greet him. “I knew the earl would send help. My husband always spoke so warmly of his nephew.”
