Page 36 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

“That makes sense.” She could not wait to fly home and tell Rafe the news. “This is Grandpapa’s business, which is”—she swallowed—“now mine?”

“It is, Miss Butler. I have the papers for you to review and sign.”

She could hardly believe such fortune. “You said my father had two accounts.”

“He did.” Friedlander’s grin was wider than logic told her it should be.

She folded her hands, expecting the sum would be small. Her father had complained bitterly, when last she saw him, that the American dollar and the American government had had an extremely difficult time recovering from the financial chaos and huge debt incurred by the revolution. “My father was a good steward of his lands and his plantations, but he relied on others to care for his profits.”

“He did. Here is the value of your father’s banking accounts with us from his crop sales.” Friedlander turned the page of the ledger and leaned forward to point out the first amount and the last.

Shock went through her like a tidal wave. “How can that first sum now be the last?” Surely twenty-four thousand, especially added to her grandpapa’s twelve, was a huge amount of money.

“Your father invested in two different endeavors. The first is a major British import-export company. That firm has grown during the last nine years.”

“At twenty-four thousand, I would say it has astronomically grown.”

“I agree.”

She turned to her friends, who looked as if they were jumping out of their skin with curiosity.

“Mr. Friedlander, what is the name of this company?”

“Hawthorne Enterprises. In the City. Not far from here. Owned by Miss Scarlett Hawthorne.”

Her three friends took the news as if they’d known it all along.

“A woman.” Zeph could not have been prouder. This was the same woman Rafe had mentioned when they were in Brighton. He had said he wished to introduce her to the lady. Zeph welcomed that even more so now.

“A very successful woman.”

Amber took Zeph’s hand. “Each of us knows that lady very well. We could introduce you, but we would create an unruly gaggle, our husbands wanting to come along as well. So I would say it is a better plan for Sir Raphael to take you to Scarlett.”

“A good idea,” Zeph said, spreading her hands along the soft green wool of her new gown. She was free. Her father had seen to it in one way. Just as Rafe had in quite another.

Then she had a thought. “But you said there was another investment my father made. What was it?”

“In 1802, he gave us fourteen thousand American dollars. He told us to make use of it only one way. He said it was how your mother’s dowry had fared in American banks.”

That warmed her. She had profits from her father, her grandfather, and her mother to see her into a new life. Already the sums were great. Bigger than she had ever expected. Yet she questioned the principles of holding money made in unethical ways. “I see. And how did you use it?”

“Loans to the opponents of Bonaparte.”

Liesel grinned. Amber made a little squeak. Viv licked her lips.

Zeph was startled—and even more concerned about the ethics of her inherited fortune. “Is that profitable?”

“Indeed. When one charges interest. And we do. Furthermore, we collect it.”

Zeph leaned forward. “Show me the page.”

Grinning, he turned a creamy sheet in his ledger and pointed to a sum.

“Your father’s account now totals twenty-four thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-one pounds.”

“Mein Gott,” Liesel whispered.

“Good heavens.” Amber laughed.