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Ever the diplomat, Nicholas liftedThe Timesfrom the carved mahogany side table between their chairs. “Forgive the interruption, chaps, but I must indulge some curiosity. Robertson, have you heard the news of this newfangled ship? It’s causing quite an uproar.”
Nicholas snapped open the newspaper and displayed the desired pages to Robertson.
Chadbourne’s body remained deceptively relaxed; his eyes focused unabashedly on his brother-in-law, who glanced at the illustration of the merchant ship.
“I’ve heard,” Robertson replied. “Quite the crowds gathering at the West India Docks to see the American wonder. They say she crossed so fast that the ink hardly had a chance to dry on the mail she brought in her hold.”
“Can’t compete with steam,” Chadbourne said, sounding unimpressed.
Nicholas dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Not on the transatlantic passage. But to the East, to China or India? No steamship can carry enough coal for such a journey and spare space for commercial cargo.”
Chadbourne flicked a finger in the illustration's direction inThe Times. “That three-masted devil scarcely has space for cargo evenwithouta hold full of coal. And she’s as likely to sink as to sail.”
“She’s made for tea or opium,” Robertson pointed out. “With cargo that precious, she doesn’t need much space to turn a pretty profit. Her American owner is making a bold declaration—tea from China to the capital in only a hundred days.”
Nicholas lifted his chin. “Imagine if that’s true.”
Robertson tapped his foot. “It’ll happen, whether now or later. You know why there was so much opposition to the repeal of the bloody Navigation Acts! Those feeding off the trough of the monopoly knew that the upstarts wanted to replace them. Now that foreign ships bring trade into our ports, change is afoot, lads.”
“And it bothers you not that it’s the whelps who circle now?” Chadbourne asked, one dark eyebrow raised. As tall as Robertson, his physique was honed thanks to his regular endeavors running Nicholas ragged on the royal tennis courts. Along with the Scot, Chadbourne’s was one of the most intimidating builds amongst Sportsman Club members.
Robertson shook his head with deliberate slowness, relishing his answer. “Let the Americans try. Let them show up the English first! You know where the best shipbuilders toil. Aye, that’s right—inScotland. We’re not too proud to borrow the Americans’s designs for these clippers—and make them better.”
Nicholas turned knowingly to Chadbourne, and they shared a look. Robertson’s reaction to the news was as expected.
Robertson settled back in his chair. “Within a few years’s time, we’ll see crossings shorten. We must improve them across the greater distances. I need wool faster from Australia. If it takes the Americans to shame Britain and cause such an uproar that shipbuilding progresses, then I welcome it.”
“The Americans seek funds for their venture. Perhaps you ought to invest,” said Chadbourne dryly.
Nicholas cocked his head, listening closely to Robertson’s answer.
“Nay.” He shook his head, glancing at the newspaper’s diagram of the vessel. “Let someone else gamble. As you say, she’s as likely to sink as to make a fortune. I’ll enjoy the spectacle from afar, at no cost.”
Chadbourne shot another look to Nicholas, as if saying,As we thought.
“On the topic of controversial investments,” Robertson said meaningfully, looking from Nicholas to Chadbourne. “I asked to meet for a reason. I’m poised to acquire a mine. One of great promise.”
“Yes?” Chadbourne’s tone was almost bored—his demeanor was anything but.
Nicholas, the son of a wealthy shipping magnate, had grown up both surrounded and excluded by aristocrats. Accustomed to their mannerisms, he didn’t take them personally.
Robertson, however, reacted viscerally to the English dryness, narrowing his eyes before continuing. “I’m not here for recreation. This is an offer for a joint venture, one I bring to you as Clara’s brother.”
“We’re listening with great interest,” Nicholas reassured.
Chadbourne nodded.
“The North Wales Mine,” Robertson said, raising his chin and watching their reaction.
Nicholas and Chadbourne frowned.
“Gold,” Robertson continued. “Loads of it. Waiting for extraction.”
Nicholas inhaled sharply. “Have you invented an apparatus for miners to breathe underwater? Everyone knows that mine is flooded.”
Robertson nodded. “Every effort to lift out water has been as fruitful as emptying the sea.”
Chadbourne blinked, regarding his brother-in-law solemnly. “You’ve an idea.”
