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Pushing back his personal misgivings, he mustered a smile. “I am sure Miss Hadford will be most helpful.”

“You truly do not mind her coming? She surely will not stay long.”

Lud. What kind of selfish monster had he become these past few years that she would feel the need to ask such a thing? “Emily, this is your home. You may invite whomever you choose to visit you here.”

She gazed at him in wonder, her brown eyes large and luminous, and he was struck by what a beauty she had become.

“Correction,” he said. “You may invite all but potential suitors. I fear that once Miss Hadford and Miss Selfridge have finished with you and you venture into Society again, I shall have quite enough to do sending away all the young men who seek you out of their own accord.”

His tease was rewarded by a flush of color in her cheeks.

“You know full well that you have nothing to worry about on that score,” she said, turning her face from him.

He shook his head slowly as the truth behind his jesting words settled upon him. “On the contrary. My concern over the matter is rapidly mounting.”

Chapter 5

Freddie sat in the corner of White’s in London, listening. To anyone who recognized the man behind the open newspaper, he was Nicholas Wilmott, an unassuming gentleman of means and diverse business interests. It had been some time since he’d frequented the club, but he had not gone out of his way to renew former acquaintanceships. Indeed, Freddie’s primary reason for being there was to meet someone new—someone with deep pockets and a willingness to consider enterprising ventures. As luck would have it, one such gentleman sat immediately behind him.

“I say, Hadford, it seems you’ve done quite well for yourself since last I saw you. Not that your property in Yorkshire lacks merit, of course, but to have an estate in Berkshire entailed to you is quite something.”

Freddie would recognize Lord Bertrand’s pompous voice anywhere. That the old viscount spoke so loudly was most advantageous.

“That is only half his good fortune.” Another gentleman spoke. Mr. Alfred Shaw, if Freddie was not mistaken. “His oldest daughter is recently married to the Earl of Bloxley.”

“You are correct on both counts, gentlemen.” Hadford’s response was measured. There was a calm confidence in his tone, and Freddie surmised he was a self-assured man used to making his own decisions. Excellent.

“Blast it all, man,” Bertrand said. “Have the decency to spread some of that good luck around a bit, would you? There are some of us who could use a little extra in our coffers.”

Hadford laughed. “I do not believe you are indigent just yet, my lord.”

“Ah, but he is never one to turn down a solid investment,” Shaw said. “And neither am I.” There was a pause. “What say you, Hadford? You are known to be a wily businessman. Where should we be looking for the best return on our money?”

Freddie held completely still. This was it. The information he needed to access Hadford’s wealth.

“Textiles, gentlemen,” Hadford said. “Our ladies cannot do without their fashionable gowns. No matter the cost, the demand for superior fabric remains steady.”

“Nonsense,” Bertrand said. “The supply of French silk cannot help but be affected by the growing unrest over there. Rumors are flying that the country is on the brink of war.”

“I confess, I have heard similar reports,” Hadford said. “But the struggles in France have yet to affect their Dutch neighbors. In Amsterdam, Mr. Willem den Haan has developed a remarkable printing method and is putting it to use on the finest cotton chintz imported by the Dutch East India Company.”

“You don’t say?”

“I have seen the cloth myself. There can be no mistaking its quality.” Hadford paused to take a sip of his drink. “It goes without saying that should conditions in France continue to worsen, the value of Dutch cloth will only increase.”

Freddie had heard enough. He set his newspaper on the nearby table and rose to his feet. It was time for an introduction.

Bertrand looked up as Freddie moved from his chair. “Good heavens, is that you, Wilmott? It’s been some time since we’ve seen you at White’s.”

“Far too long,” Freddie said. “I’ve been out of the country—in Amsterdam, as a matter of fact—on business.”

“You don’t say. Hadford, here, has just been telling us that we should look to the Dutch for some sound investing.”

“Very wise counsel.” Freddie turned his eyes on Hadford. The man must be close to his fiftieth year. His brown hair was beginning to gray, but his figure appeared trim and his coat well cut. Freddie inclined his head. “Nicholas Wilmott, at your service.”

“Ah, you gentlemen have not met.” Just as Freddie had hoped, Bertrand hastened to rectify the situation. “Mr. Wilmott, this is Mr. Hadford, originally from Yorkshire but recently removed to Berkshire. Mr. Hadford, Mr. Wilmott, newly returned from Amsterdam.”

“A pleasure,” Hadford said. He paused. “I don’t suppose you had occasion to meet Willem den Haan or Rudolf Goor while you were in the Dutch Republic?”