Page 4 of Lady Petra and the Wolf

“Why did you arrange to meet me here if you did not come from Bristol? I—”

Wolf began to reorganize his thoughts, but John beat him to it.

“I wanted to discuss the business with you.”

“Ah.” That was what Wolf wanted, wasn’t it? And the uncertainty of what they would discuss wore at him. “That is what I thought.”

John opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, sighed, and tilted his head toward the sideboard.

“Whiskey? Port?”

“Whiskey.” Wolf vastly preferred real spirits to fortified wines, although as a gentleman, he was not supposed to admit to such a preference.

John motioned for Wolf to serve himself from the sideboard. He nodded to John to see if he wanted one as well.

“Oh, why the hell not?” Wolf blinked for a moment. He had only offered to be polite. Normally John would refuse, too focused on his work for the day to share a whiskey with his old friend. Something was certainly afoot.

As they sat and enjoyed their whiskey together, Wolf appreciated the silence that long friendship could bring. A gentleman does not need friends. He needs people to admire him and do his bidding. He abided by most of his father’s decrees, and yet in this aspect of his life, he defied him. John was just about his only friend, and their joint business endeavors had helped revive Wolfridge House and Havern Ridge, his family seat, something his father had never accomplished in his lifetime.

He could not regret this friendship with John, which only furthered Wolf’s resolve to save John from a disastrous marriage. It had nothing to do with spending time with a comely lady with expressive mahogany eyes that saw into his very soul. Nothing to do with that whatsoever.

John finally broke the silence. “I know when I suggested my investment and my ideas for the fleet all those years ago, I told you I would ask very little in return. Only your connection to your aunt’s business.”

Wolf swirled his whiskey and nodded, unable to meet his friend’s eye. While he knew John did not intend for him to sound like such a useless aristocrat, he still heard it in his words. In the slight hesitance to lay anything that involved responsibility at Wolf’s feet.

“And yet…” John paused and took a large swig of his whiskey as if he needed the liquid courage to finish his thought. Wolf was impressed that the man did not break out into a fit of coughing, but he gave a small grunt before he went on. “I may need to ask more of you in the coming weeks.”

Not willing to admit that he had come today to request that very thing, Wolf motioned for his friend to continue.

“I may be called away,” John noted, eyeing the map before him with fondness. “I have…a commitment to something. Someone. One I cannot break. And it may take me away for a while.”

“Away from London?” Wolf asked.

“Away from England.” John’s eyes did not leave the map as they trailed down the Atlantic Ocean before him.

“And you would like me to…” Wolf began, grateful for the opportunity to take on more responsibility but unsure of where he could be of use.

“You would not need to do what I typically do for the company.” John looked up from the map, though his fingers stayed on the eastern Atlantic. “Just make sure things run smoothly. I can show you all of the upcoming contracts, dock schedules, and any other matters. And of course, you would work with the board over any disputes or interest in docking rights. I’ll write it all down for you.”

“Would I…” Wolf began, unsure of how to ask without his friend seeing too much. “Would I need to go to Bristol?”

John took a moment before he responded. “I do not think so, but I cannot make any promises. If everything runs smoothly, then no. I usually go to Bristol to oversee the development or restoration of the fleet. The London facilities are far too constricted for any endeavor beyond routine repair. I do not foresee any need for further vessel construction or significant overhauls in the immediate months to come.”

“Months?” Wolf asked, his air of nonchalance dropping at the cold realization of how long John anticipated to be gone.

“I do not know how long I will be away.” John admitted. “Can you do this? Is it too much to ask?”

Wolf felt like Lucifer again as his idealistic friend searched his face. All John was asking was some small oversight to an endeavor that greatly benefitted Wolf. Had he not only just vowed to shoulder a weightier burden of responsibility? The opportunity he sought lay before him, ripe and undeniable. Yet, he did not wish to betray a hint of unseemly haste, lest John inquire after his sudden zeal, a question Wolf was quite certain he could not yet answer for himself.

“It is not too much, but I do not quite know where to begin.”

“How much time do you have today?” John glanced at an ormolu clock that sat upon his desk but Wolf could not see the time, so he pulled out the silver and shark skin pocketwatch given to him by his late father the day he took him from Bristol. Another reminder of how he had spent his time these last fifteen years.

“I have all afternoon.”

“Good.” John raised his glass to Wolf. “Let me gather some documents and I will show you what needs to be done.”

As John went over logs, showed Wolf the warehouse, and guided him to the dock superintendent offices, Wolf found himself mesmerized by the sheer magnitude of the industry before him. There was a deep satisfaction in witnessing such disciplined enterprise, one that operated with the rhythmic, unerring precision of his silver and shark skin pocket watch. John showed him his reports of every ship, its trade route and expected cargo manifests. While others would manage the manifests, Wolf needed to be on hand should they run into any issues.