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Chapter Two
Helen fought for composure as she awaited Nicholas Irons’s determination. Her heart pumped as if she was in danger—her body knew the stakes of this meeting—but she sat unmoving, trying to mirror Irons’s circumspection.
She envied his restraint. He was everything she was not—guarded in his reactions, even when his eyes, the color of dark honey, absorbed everything. For as tranquil as he looked, his agile body reacted instantly when needed. He’d proven that when the engineer’s model broke. She harbored no doubt that his mind was as keen as his form, and that his opinions, while cloaked, were strongly held.
Why must his hands look so capable?she thought angrily, remembering the way he’d captured the piece of fragile model stairway—in a flash and so decisively—all without harming it.
Raised near the East Boston docks amidst ship and lumberyards, Helen was accustomed to men who wielded strength and skill. Mr. Irons’s bearing, however, captivated her as no one else’s. His hair was thick and dark, his skin golden. It was late afternoon, and a hint of beard shadowed his strong jaw. His physique was strapping without being bulky; he moved with confidence but utmost care.
He knows when to use strength and when to use finesse.
She blinked, trying to quell such thoughts…as she had ever since discovering Mr. Irons wasn’t the ancient Englishman with bushy eyebrows she had been expecting.
Besides, she knew better than to trust any man, and her very future depended on his decision. She searched his enigmatic and frustratingly handsome face, finding nothing but an air of concentration.
He dropped his hands and looked from her to Elijah. “It’s no secret the Navigation Acts were repealed, opening British ports to foreign ships. What makes you think other American clippers aren’t underway from China this very moment, their holds full of tea?”
Elijah came alive, shaking his head. “The first crop of the new season isn’t yet produced. It will be available in late May, perhaps early June. Back us now, and I’ll get there for the first loading.”
“My brother knows the China trade, Mr. Irons. He spent years there. Through his contacts, he’ll procure the finest tea, the like and freshness of which England has never seen.”
“What sort of contacts?”
“Tea merchants,” replied Elijah. “The fastest tugs and stevedores in port.Alacritywill carry sixteen hundred tons of tea. That’s thousands of chests. I’ll have it loaded in two days’s time.”
“How is that possible?”
“The Chinese stevedores are excellent. They’re a sight to behold as they stow the cargo.”
“Sixteen hundred tons,” Irons murmured, tapping his chin.
Helen could all but see the calculations running through his mind, his eyes glowing like amber in the bent rays of the late afternoon sun from the nearby window.
“We’ve already signed contracts on Mincing Lane,” she enticed, referring to the center of the tea and spice trade in London. “If we deliver premium tea by the fifteenth of September, we’ll earn forty thousand pounds.”
The forty thousand pounds has caught his attention!
Mr. Irons regarded her enigmatically, but it took some time for him to speak again. “Boldness is one thing, and you’ve plenty. But it’s already February. Your ship is where in London? The West India Docks?”
He asked about Elijah’s ship, but he looked at her for the answer.
She nodded.
“It’s no wonder your search for investors has been difficult. London to Hong Kong and back by the middle of September!”
Elijah leaned forward, his eyes fierce, his cheeks almost as red as Helen’s hair. “It so happens that my ship is the fastest sailing ship in the world, Mr. Irons.”
“And he’s the finest skipper in the world,” she added.
Elijah turned her way with an amused glance. She felt more than saw the look, her sisterly perceptions keen; her eyes were trained on Nicholas Irons.
Yet it was Elijah who spoke again. “There’s some risk involved. Butthat’snot why no one has furnished the silver. Nor is it that they don’t believe I’ll do it.”
“Oh?” Irons asked neutrally.
For the first time since entering the office, Helen’s attention focused on her brother. Energy coiled in him, and she issued a look of warning, imploring him to stay silent.
“It’s foolish national pride and stubbornness, that’s what! Their minds are so addled with it, they would sooner forfeit profit than invest in an American ship that’ll make history and shame the sleepy British fleet!”
