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Nicholas blinked.Good God, they’re direct.
Until meeting them in person, his curiosity had been idle. But why was Helen Gray here? Why was either of themhere?
Before indulging his interest, he considered the repercussions. At the best of times, he wasn’t one to engage in foolish errands. Today especially, he hadn’t the time to spare.
Nor was it sporting to give false hope to the desperate. Despite their efforts to suppress it, the siblings radiated desperation. Captain Miller affected an air of forced indolence, like an adolescent; Mrs. Gray observed him with preternatural stillness.
It was cruel to proceed—to himself and to them—but he needed to know more.
“Let’s assume what you’ve toldThe Timesis true. You’ll sail to China and back faster than any sailing ship has done and earn that fortune. Down the street are half a dozen firms who charter tea ships every year, with silver aplenty. Why haven’t you approached them?”
“They deal in opium,” said Captain Miller starkly.
Nicholas scoffed. “Trade with Chinameansdealing in opium. That’s why my firm isn’t in the China trade, Captain.”
“That’s why we approached you. We won’t touch silver obtained through opium.”
“Indeed,” interjected Mrs. Gray, leaning forward slightly. “We’re offering you the opportunity to invest in a once-in-a-lifetime tea venture. Yes, I know how that sounds to a man of business. But it happens to be true.”
Nicholas smiled, but shook his head. “We are not in the tea trade.”
The captain shot his sister a look and launched backwards into his chair. The movement was rapid, but his body sank tiredly into the cushions.
Mercurial in mood, Nicholas observed, then flicked his gaze back to his preferred sibling.
Mrs. Gray raised her chin. “Yet. You are not in the tea tradeyet. And following your participation in this unique opportunity, you needn’t be again.”
“As you say, Mrs. Gray—I am a man of business. ‘Unique opportunities’ appear with astonishing regularity. Today, it’s waterwheels and tea. A different scheme tomorrow. I have no doubt I’ll read of you inThe Timesagain—God willing, upon your safe return with profitable cargo. But my firm is not interested.”
Captain Miller’s eyes closed on a sigh.
Mrs. Gray sat up straighter. “The last cup of tea you sipped, Mr. Irons. How long did it take for the poor leaves to reach your island?”
Your island! Penelope would like this woman.He nearly laughed, imagining his sister and Helen Gray in the same room. “Do end the suspense. How long did it take for the tea to reach the capital of the Empire?”
She arched a copper-colored eyebrow. “Tea now reaches New York in only eighty days. The wretchednessyoulast steeped? Likely three times that. It travels in the hold of a slow East Indiamen, arriving moldy. Often containing sticks. Sawdust. Stones. Dye. Plaster, even.” She spoke almost nonchalantly, brushing an imaginary speck from her skirts.
He wasn’t fooled, and when her eyes met his again, dancing, his throat pulsed where his blood rushed. By Zeus, he wanted to tap into her enthusiasm and ride.
“It’s only a matter of time before other American clippers race here as they do to New York. I’m determined thatAlacritybe the first. We’ll teach London how delectable first-cut, new season tea is—and charge accordingly.”
Her words infused energy into the surrounding air. Captain Miller sat up straight again, monitoring Nicholas's reaction.
Tea was already a highly profitable import, and the premium tea described by the Americans would generate public fervor and tremendous profit.
Nicholas steepled his hands under his chin, determined that they see only the quiet consideration he was known for. Deep inside, out of sight, he fumbled and groped. Where was his habitual immunity to bombastic speech? His suspicion of profits guaranteed? His balanced appreciation for commercial risk and reward?
He watched Helen Gray as a peregrine traced its prey, patient but unrelenting. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and however assured her voice was, her carriage proud, he recognized the entreaty in her eyes.
She believed her words; she needed him to.
Nicholas was carried on a wave of desire to join forces with her.
Mixing charity and business?He frowned, disgusted. He couldn’t possibly be considering this nonsense!
It was out of the question that his employer would entertain it. It was one thing to invest in the chartering of a tea fleet, spreading the risk amongst various ships, and another to bet on a single ship, the design of which emphasized speed over stability.
His father’s words echoed in his mind, spoken only a few months earlier.
