Page 78 of Again, Scoundrel

“So,” he said to McGann, “what news of funding?”

The Scotsman broke into a wide, toothy grin and Alistair was reminded it made him look like a dolt.

“Bit of luck, that,” McGann said. “I found our capital. Or it found us.”

“From whom?”

“I reckon that’s the funny thing. I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Alistair grimaced again and pressed his fingertips to his throbbing head. “You must know who sent it.”

“I said I don’t, you deaf bugger. ‘Twas a man of affairs that handled it all, doing the business of an interested party. He gave over a bit of planning money as a show of good faith and promised that as long as preparations continue apace there’ll be more.”

Alistair pulled a packet of Benson’s headache pills from his desk and swallowed two.

Could it be Somerville, he wondered, investing against the wishes of his father?

Or the Marquess himself, finally supporting his second son?

He doubted it. He’d not had a moment to meet with his father after his head-spinning conversation with Darius.

“Miss Goodwin will be able to treat whatever is ailing your head, Crawford,” McGann said, watching him.

“My head is fine. Are the funds sufficient?”

“‘Twill be. More than enough if he comes through with what’s been promised.”

“And you’ve the first installment in hand?”

“Aye. Enough to get us started.”

McGann cast Alistair a hard glance. “You look better, but are you ready for this?”

Alistair closed his eyes briefly and asked himself that same question.

Am I?

He recalled once more the spill of Violet’s hair against his pillows and the feel of her thighs, plush and waiting and wrapped around him.

“I am,” he said.

“Good. Word from Scotland is we can have our ship on the water in a fortnight.”

Alistair nodded. “We’ll use her to bring back the first cargo and then take a cut of those proceeds to fix up another. Do you think we can have two in play by year’s end?”

“Aye. If we’re lucky.” McGann stuck his hand out to Alistair. “Two weeks to our future.”

Alistair ignored the squeezing of air in his chest and forced a smile onto his face.

“Two weeks,” he agreed and shook.

“We’ll be fine partners, Crawford. And no one need marry the lass now.”

Alistair’s smile abruptly faded. “Let’s not discuss Miss Goodwin.”

He didn’t yet know how to tell McGann that he was willing to do whatever Violet wanted him to do… as soon as he learned what that was. If that meant not going back out to sea, he’d be a land-bound partner. If it meant moving to New York, he’d become a knickerbocker. He would keep up his end of the partnership, but he’d do it from wherever she was, and in whatever capacity she wanted him. If she wanted him.

“As you wish. Though I am sorry she would not have you. Will you tell her you’re to leave?”