Page 16 of Again, Scoundrel

“Is it a brothel you’ve brought me to, then?” Alistair thought he knew all of those, too.

McGann put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder to stop his movement mid-step. “I wouldn’t say that too loud if I were you. One of these nice Scottish lasses would put your eye out for less. Every one of them can plant a facer to knock you off your feet if she’d a mind to.”

“My apologies,” Alistair said with a slight bow to no one in particular and therefore to everyone. It was true that it didn’t seem like a brothel, despite the mixed-gender drinking. The atmosphere was lively, with conversation flowing all around him. In fact, it seemed a far more delightful place to drink than his gentleman’s club, or Lord forbid, White’s, where his father was a member. Alistair couldn’t think of a less appealing place than White’s.

“McGann,” the woman behind the bar yelled as they moved further into the room. “Explain yourself.”

“I’ll vouch for him,” McGann said.

“You better. We don’t serve his kind here.”

“I said I would, and I do.” McGann gave Alistair a little shove to move him along. “Now bring us two and stop your complaining.”

The woman grinned at him. “I’ll complain all I want. It’s my establishment.”

“Two what?” Alistair asked as McGann settled them into a quiet booth in the back.

“Two whiskies.”

“Is that the only option?” Alistair asked as two glasses appeared before them.

“It is. You’re in a bar only for Scots, so it serves only what a Scotsman would want to drink. And if you tell anyone else about this place, you’ll get more than a facer. Do you understand?”

Alistair took one look around the room filled with some of the largest men and women he’d ever seen. “I do,” he said evenly.

“Good. Now listen carefully, Crawford, because I’ve a proposal for you.”

“I don’t have any capital,” Alistair said. He’d just lost the last of his money at the hell.

“So I saw. Lucky for you, it’s not your money I need. It’s your title. And your interest in starting a trading company.”

“I beg your pardon. How would you know about that?”

McGann shrugged. “You talk too much when you drink, and you’ve been drinking a lot, Crawford. But as fate would have it, I wish to start a shipping company. Pairs well with a trading company, so it’s a good thing I heard what I did, aye? I have a ship and you’ve the title to fund it.”

“It’s only a courtesy title, McGann. It doesn’t mean anything.”

McGann grinned his stupid grin again. “Your father is a Marquess, Crawford, and your brother a Viscount. Even if you don’t like the fact, it doesn’t make it useless.”

Alistair only shrugged at that.

“Listen,” McGann went on. “I’ve a ship in need of repair. We can fix it up and put it to sea more cheaply than building new. Between us, we’ve twenty years of experience captaining and navigating vessels. We know the business of trade, sea routes, navigation—all of it. With the public finally seeing the Company as the right bastards they are, the time is ripe for a competing venture. Yours and mine—my ship, that is, and your connections. Together, we can make a go of it.”

“I don’t do business with criminals,” Alistair said.

“Sod off, Crawford. You spent three years with the Company, and there’s no bigger criminal organization than that. Unless you count the aristocracy. And as we’ve established, you’re a member of that, too.”

“Not by choice,” Alistair said.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“So, you provide the ship and I provide the capital? That doesn’t seem a fair trade.”

“Are you not listening, man? You provide the connections, I provide the ship, and we both provide the capital.”

“And how do you plan to raise your share?”

McGann laughed. “I don’t plan to raise it. I’m going to marry it.”