Читать книгу Temptation Has Green Eyes - Lynne Connolly - Страница 6

Maximilian Wallace, Marquess of Devereaux, strode through London’s crowded streets, feeling completely at home. With the dexterity of a seasoned Londoner, Max dodged past an urchin who appeared determined to collide with him—and probably relieve him of his purse at the same time. That boy’s Wednesday haul would be absent one fine linen kerchief and a purse heavy with guineas.

Max reached his destination and flattened his palm over the weathered paint of the door to Lloyd’s coffee house. As he shoved it open, he breathed in the intoxicating fragrance of coffee and tobacco.

A group of men sat in the worn leather-upholstered chairs by the fire, puffing on long-stemmed churchwarden pipes. More sat at the long, plain tables, making deals that would cause even a duke to gulp. Max had made many in his time.

This place had been part of Max’s life since he’d attained the age of sixteen and discovered the state of the family’s finances.

Spotting the man he’d come to meet, Max made his way past the tables and cubicles to the one Thomas Russell occupied, in the corner, where they wouldn’t be overheard. Men nodded to him and he returned the acknowledgement. He was well known here, despite his title, not because of it. Men of the City had little time for aristocrats. He liked the busy hum of people doing business. Lloyd’s was the center for insurance and shipping matters and as such could get very noisy at times. Not today. Obviously, no large ships or cargoes were in dispute.

Russell stood as Max approached. He was smiling broadly, his round, apparently guileless face displaying nothing but bonhomie and pleasure. That was part of his danger. Max had been trying to work with Russell for years but had never before gathered the capital to make an investment of this size and importance. With this deal, Max would become an insurer in his own right. His fortune would expand beyond anything he’d achieved, his future secure. So much was balanced on this transaction that he was keyed up beyond the level he considered possible. Not that he allowed any of it to show.

Max went on guard at Russell’s words. When Russell showed that untroubled, smiling face, he had something on his mind. A twist in the deal?

Mentally, Max went through the complicated contract he knew by heart. They’d made a few tiny amendments, none of which threatened to wreck this agreement, and that was all. Nothing. But this man was planning something. Russell hadn’t climbed the tree to become one of the wealthiest men in the precious square mile known as the City of London by being pleasant to everyone.

Russell was in many ways the epitome of the City businessman. Dressed in sober, though excellent, clothes, today of russet brown with spotlessly clean linen and a simple bob-wig, he was neither this nor that, neither ostentatious nor puritanical. Keeping a steady course between all factions had gone a long way to his success. His shining face spoke both of his attention to cleanliness and the heat in this place. Whatever the temperature outside, it was never cold in Lloyd’s, due to the huge fire kept burning well into April and the hot air rising from the discussions.

A waiting-woman approached him. Max gave her a friendly smile and asked for tea. No women were allowed here except for the serving girls and the lady sitting behind the desk by the door, where the customers paid before they left. Knowing the caliber of some of the women in the City, Max wondered that none of them had stormed the citadel before. Perhaps they disliked tobacco smoke. Or preferred to use agents, as many of the City’s other investments did.

Max had always conducted his business for himself. Just as well, since he couldn’t afford an agent when he first started to make deals at the tender age of seventeen. He’d had to use the estate trustees to commission the actual business and sign the documents until he came of age. Now, partly due to the man who took a seat at the table across from him, he could afford much more. He was as wealthy as anyone in this room, and that was saying something.

He waited on events. One thing Max had learned over the years was the value of silence.

“You were concerned about the quantity of barrels on the lower deck?” Russell queried.

Right to business. Max settled into the final discussions. “I thought we could get more in if we stacked them deeper into the hull.”

Russell nodded. “It’s possible, but not advisable, although when you brought the matter up, I did speak to the captain of the fleet. Apparently it would unbalance the disposition of the cargo.”

Max agreed to let that part of the contract stay as it was. He dug in the inside pocket of his olive-green coat for his account book and flipped through the well-worn pages until he reached the one he needed.

The coffee house kept a bottle of ink and pens on every table for that purpose, the ink invariably gritty and the pens often blunt. It made a mark, and that was all Max required.

The girl delivered his tea. He picked it up and took a sip.

They worked through the other matters swiftly. This contract would involve a fleet of six ships with varied cargo. They’d insure them all, and Max had some investment in the cargo, too.

A failure at this stage wouldn’t ruin him as it might have at the beginning of his City career, but it meant a great deal. Success would finally boost him to the heights he’d been aiming for right from the beginning.

Light at heart, he finished his tea and prepared to leave to sign the contracts. Probably in triplicate, at least.

“A moment,” Russell murmured.

Max’s mood plummeted to his well-shod feet. He hadn’t been wrong then. Russell had suggested Lloyd’s because he wanted to discuss something else. “You have another caveat?”

Russell shook his head. “Not precisely. Hear me out, if you please.”

“I’m very happy with the business as it stands, sir.” Would be happier after they’d signed. “Is this a fresh agreement?” His heart lifted at the prospect. More business would only prove better, especially with this man.

“This is, I hope, the first of many contracts between us. Our methods suit and our processes are similar. We work well together.”

Max said nothing, but nodded. He agreed completely. Russell was so wealthy Max suspected even the man himself didn’t know how much he was worth. Max had the prestige and the contacts to find new opportunities, which benefited everyone. The burgeoning wealth of the men in the City with the new worlds they were opening could only be good for the country. This association with Thomas Russell was the start of many such contracts. He didn’t doubt that for a minute.

Was the man suggesting a more formal association? A jointly owned company? Despite his determination to remain focused, Max breathed deeply to quell his excitement at the prospect. His fingertips tingled. Under the table, he pressed them together. He forced a slight smile to his lips. “I, too, look forward to the day when we may work together again.”

“I’m gratified that you would think so.” Russell waved, flicking his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

Max turned his head. The serving girl retreated. A private matter, then. His heart in his mouth, he waited to hear what Russell had in mind.

The wily man bent nearer, speaking lower. “I have worked hard to build a business my descendants can be proud of.”

Russell was a widower with one child, a girl. Max had met Sophia Russell a time or two but taken little notice of the self-effacing, cool woman.

So Russell wanted a more permanent association. Perhaps a company that would give his daughter a good amount of money. Enough to net herself a husband.

Max needed Russell to speak clearer, but he didn’t know the man well enough to demand clarification straight out. “You’ve done much. You have a great deal to be proud of.”

“So do you.” Russell fixed him with a clear gaze. “I’ve worked hard to make the business my father entrusted to my care even greater. When it became obvious I would have no more children of my own, I expected to find a youth I could train, who would take over when I was gone. I found one and set matters in place. I was also considering marrying him to Sophia. She liked him well enough. He was an intelligent young man, presentable and bright who would continue the business after I’m gone.”

His face changed to heavy-jowled depression, his mouth turning hard and his eyes to chips of flint. “Unfortunately, the man I chose did not prove suitable after all.” He paused. “He was—untrustworthy.”

Had this person endangered Russell’s business? Was it safe to invest with him any longer?

“He attempted to…seduce my daughter before I’d given him permission to approach her.”

“Seduce?” Max snapped. Had the man offered violence to Sophia? Violence to any woman was anathema to any decent man. He glanced around. Nobody sat within listening distance, but still… “Why meet here to discuss such a personal matter?”

Russell rubbed his forehead. “Sophia is at home to visitors today. The house is full of her guests. Today at least, I have considerably more privacy here than at home. I need my daughter married, and soon.”

No, oh no. Not that. Surely Russell wouldn’t want that.

Russell spread his hands, indicating the company. Men chatted, busy about their own concerns, uninterested in the doings of two of the regular customers. Whereas, if he visited Russell’s home during an at home day, gossip would spread.

If Russell took him to his office, showed him favor, he would be bound to go through with it to save face. However, if either of them walked away here, in the coffee house, nobody would consider it amiss. Gossip was the very devil.

If he wanted this business—and he did, so badly he could taste it—he’d have to take the daughter. His head whirled. He needed time to think this over. Time he didn’t have, because this wily old fox had arranged it that way.

He could always ask more about the situation. “So tell me,” he said, careful to keep his voice low. “What did you do with this man?”

“I sent him away.” The older man’s pale eyes sharpened. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and then put it down, the rim rattling against the table. It was already empty. “Unfortunately he spread a rumor that Sophia had seduced him. And succeeded in persuading some. It has besmirched her reputation in certain circles.”

So he was being asked to take on soiled goods. As long as the chit wasn’t pregnant, he would at least consider the possibility. But for Russell, marrying his daughter to a peer of the realm was a leap up the social scale.

“I haven’t heard it.” But then, Max didn’t move in the social milieu of the City. He attended dinners and other functions at the Guildhall, but no more than that.

“Good. I had considered leaving my business solely to Sophia when I die. She’s a clever woman, and it’s not unknown for women to run businesses.”

The worm on the end of the hook. Take Sophia, take the business. A very juicy worm. Max would be an idiot if the prospect didn’t tempt him.

Max quirked his lips. “I’m not unaware of that, sir. The company that provides much of my silverware is run by a woman.” He had no objection to a female running a business. Max never denied the truth when it presented itself as such.

Russell heaved a sigh. “I could provide her with the structure she needs. A woman cannot come to a place like this, but her prestige would mean that they would go to her. My man of business is solidly reliable, as is my chief clerk, my shipping agent, and so on.” He leaned back, touched his cup, glanced up, and leaned forward again. “The recent incident has convinced me that I’m placing her in a dangerous position. She will be a woman of considerable substance. Fortune hunters will abound. They do now, but she doesn’t encourage them. Already, rumors are spreading, thanks to the despicable youth whose name I will not mention.”

He sighed and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Despite the recent marriage laws, wealthy young women are still abducted and forcibly wed. The rumors have weakened Sophia’s position, and the vultures are gathering. I need her married to a man I can trust, and it must happen quickly.”

Max didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but at least Russell seemed to be putting his cards on the table. But did he have an ace shoved up his sleeve? “Could you not find a good man for your daughter? One she could rely on to stay out of the way of the business?”

“A cipher you mean?” Russell shook his head. “Sophia would never stand for that. Neither would I. Once she marries, what is hers belongs to her husband, and what I have will come to her in the fullness of time. There are few men who would resist the challenge to take control.”

Max breathed more easily. This was a business proposition like any other. “So who do you have in mind?” A notion occurred to him. “Do you wish Sophia introduced into society so she can find a husband of her own?”

Russell shook his head. “She did that once. She didn’t take. You may not be aware of this, but my late wife was Lady Mary Howard of Lancashire. She had a certain cachet in several circles. But there was some dispute, and my wife preferred not to acknowledge her family.”

Some dispute? What on earth did that mean? Sophia was still a cit, and some members of society were unreasonably prejudiced against men of the City of London. However Sophia could enter society, and her mother’s connections would satisfy all but the highest sticklers. “I can certainly help you there. My mother, my sister, could introduce her.”

“No need.” Russell clamped his mouth shut and stared at Max.

How the hell did he get out of this? He ached to continue the association with Russell, but enough to marry his daughter? Marriage didn’t figure in his plans, not for years yet. Or hadn’t until just now.

A pair of crease lines appeared between Russell’s brows. “While I appreciate your offer, the recent incident has disturbed me more than I’d like. Introducing her to society, finding her a husband would all take too long. In any case, I know my Sophia. Her charms aren’t obvious to many, and she may not have the skills to shine.” His lips tightened. “She tried. She had her come-out, her mother made sure of that, but Sophia doesn’t have the… She’s not accomplished.”

“You told me that she was.” What was Russell was trying to say? She wanted a teacher? Perhaps his cousin Helena could help. She had taken Alex Ripley’s beloved under her wing, so successfully that the lady was now Lady Ripley. Or maybe his mother and his sister Poppea, known in the family as Poppy, would agree to take Sophia in hand. “You mean she needs some town bronze?”

The frown disappeared and Russell laughed outright. He glanced around as someone approached them, but their combined stares saw him off. The man quickly turned tail and turned around.

“No.” Russell turned back to Max. “She’s been on the town all her life. Here’s my proposition, and it’s as businesslike as any other we’ve undertaken or are likely to make. You’re young, you’re wealthy, and you’re as honest as any businessman I’ve ever met. I observed you for some time before I agreed to work with you, and I’ve been very pleased with our dealings together so far. I want you for Sophia. Wait—”

As Max would have spoken, Russell held up his gnarled hand. Max remained silent.

“My Sophia deserves the best. You could take my company and make it the biggest in the City of London, which means in the world.”

Staggered, Max was lost for words. He closed his mouth with a snap. Russell continued with his proposal.

“If you agree to do this, I’ll make you my heir. It will be part of the marriage settlement.” He leaned back, his attention fixed on Max. “It’s a good offer.”

Just as if he was offering another business deal, which, to all intents and purposes, he was. Except it involved far more personal relations than any other business deal would. Was Max ready to let a woman into his well-ordered life?

The sound of the coffee house continued as if Max’s world hadn’t spun on its axis. The buzz of conversation went on around them, punctuated by occasional shout or laugh. Normal life revolved around him as he fought to get his thoughts into some kind of order.

“Sophia will make you an excellent marchioness.”

About to refuse outright, Max paused, staring at the man who had made such an outrageous offer. A cit to a marquess. But an extremely wealthy cit to a previously impoverished marquess. His title hadn’t put food on the table; his business acumen had done that.

If he wanted a wife, Sophia was the kind of woman he’d be looking for, rather than a society maiden fresh out of the schoolroom. She had business acumen, and she was attractive enough, from what he’d seen of her.

And the inducement—mouthwatering. He could give his mother her life back and continue with his own. After all, he knew hardly anyone whose marriage hadn’t been arranged. What was this but another one?

What was he thinking? Max had always sworn to avoid the arranged marriage. He wanted to choose his wife for himself. But if he agreed to this, he’d have everything he ever wanted, not just for himself, but for his mother and his sister, Poppy. Not such a sacrifice. And many married couples lived completely separate lives. His heart sank and his stomach hollowed. Above all things he wanted a harmonious home, someone he could build a life with. But love—he didn’t want that. Bile rose to his throat. Not for him, never.

Russell tapped one finger on the table, bringing Max back to attention.

“Walk back some of the way with me.”

Max accompanied Russell to the offices of his man of business, where his own would be waiting in a very different frame of mind to the one he’d expected. Not happy with a job well done, but in complete turmoil. Marry? He tipped back his head, sucking down as much fresh air as this crowded part of London afforded, trying to shake some sense into it.

Russell remained mainly silent during the short journey, giving Max a chance to settle his whirling thoughts.

Without a husband and with the gossips busy circulating the stories spread by her erstwhile suitor, Sophia would be a target for every unscrupulous fortune-hunter in the country. But no respectable men. Her reputation would be wrecked by the man she’d refused.

Russell’s wealth ensured that she’d find someone. Max could induce his mother to introduce her. But the kind of society his family moved in contained more fortune hunters than anywhere else, because it also contained some of the wealthiest and best connected people in the country. Mercenary and vicious, they’d quell Sophia, mistreat her, and waste her fortune. Several of that breed had attached themselves to Poppy, or tried to, before Max or another of his male relatives had seen them off. Without that protection, Sophia would be achingly vulnerable.

Max wasn’t the only man left with little fortune and a huge monstrosity of a house to care for. Many men would be glad of Sophia’s wealth to shore up their ailing finances. They’d care for her, too. Not all fortune hunters were heartless.

But that wouldn’t help his business. Max could help Sophia find someone suitable, but that would distance him from the business he’d worked so hard to connect with.

They walked past other coffee houses with businesses as thriving as Lloyd’s—Tom’s with its clutch of men looking for women to pass the time with. A house that infuriated the magistrates at Bow Street because no actual illegal acts ever took place on the premises.

Then they passed the theater at Drury Lane, its doors currently closed pending the evening’s performances, and turned the corner, away from Seven Dials. Nobody went that way unless they had some criminal business to pursue. They passed several tall buildings lining the narrow streets with columns of brass plaques outside, indicating the concerns based there.

Normally Max would be reveling in the place, in the variety and the exhibition of life in all its variations, but this time he only noted the familiar landmarks without thought. His mind was occupied with one thing. Sophia. A pretty girl, and one who answered sensibly when addressed, but not someone who quickened his heart or had attracted much of his attention. No sense of excitement or anticipation when he’d seen her, which was rarely.

Was she avoiding him? He didn’t think so. Perhaps she was as reticent with everyone she met. That didn’t augur well for Sophia as a society lady. Reticence would be considered bad breeding, nothing more.

Children of Max’s station were bred to expect people to stare at them and single them out. They should not avoid that task. Otherwise it could be regarded as bad manners. Would Sophia make a good marchioness? The reticence didn’t indicate that.

Before they reached their destination, Max recommenced discussing the problem with Russell. They were moving too fast and with too much purpose for anyone to catch more than a few words in passing, so they were as private here as at the discreet corner table at Lloyd’s. “Do you intend Sophia to continue the business after she marries, or will you expect her to withdraw from commercial life?”

Russell laughed as he dodged a dark pool of something unpleasantly liquid. Since it hadn’t rained for a day or so, it was unlikely to be water. “I’d consider any man who chose not to consult her an idiot. She knows the various enterprises as well as I do. It’s sheer madness to ignore expertise in whatever guise it appears, male or female.”

Relief flooded him. She was an intelligent woman, then. “Why the hurry to hand over your business? You, sir, are in your prime.” He assumed Russell to be around fifty. His vigor and mental acuity pointed to a lack of extreme age.

Russell raised a brow. “Thank you for that. It’s time I took life at a more leisurely pace.”

Did he have a health problem? The lines of his face and the gnarled hands were probably from Russell’s early years on board ship, where he made his first fortune. But perhaps the lines were deeper, the eyes a little less clear.

“My daughter is twenty-four. She needs a husband, one who will care for her and ensure she comes to no harm. And you are the best candidate. My lord,” he added as if an afterthought.

In fact, Max’s colleague was reminding him of his exalted title and station. True, he could enhance Russell’s business merely by being a peer of the realm.

He could finally restore the house. His parents had spent all their money and lavished their love on the house in the country. Devereaux House had been a large establishment, suitable for a marquess’s main residence, and his parents had enlarged it still further. Now it was packed with treasures, beautified, and redesigned.

His land steward had loftily informed Max that the house contained as many rooms as there were days in the year. The news appalled Max. How could anyone live in a monstrosity that size? Now the place belonged to him, or more precisely, had devolved to him with the entail on the land. He couldn’t sell it. He never went there.

After his father’s death, Max had closed and shuttered the place, retaining a skeleton staff to keep the house clear of the pests that might damage the treasures. Even that had cost him more than he could afford.

His mother had adored her husband, and therefore she adored the house, too. Not that she lived there. That was a constant needle in Max’s side. His mother should have her house back.

With Russell’s fortune, starting with the no doubt generous settlement that would come with Sophia, he could do it. Restore the parts that had suffered during his time as owner and give it back to her.

And he wanted to give his sister something more than she had now. Poppy deserved better. Because she was a single female, she had to live with her mother, which meant sharing the peripatetic life the dowager Lady Devereaux led these days.

Poppy should have a proper London season with the clothes to match. But when a lace petticoat cost more than a ship’s captain could earn in half a year, that was difficult. Had been difficult.

Now Max could afford it, but he still needed a chaperone for Poppy. Somebody like—a wife.

He kept coming back to the inevitable topic. The walk only served to firm his resolve, which Russell probably knew since he kept quiet for most of it. A good businessman knew when to keep his tongue between his teeth.

They halted outside the office. Did he go in or not? Would he accept this agreement?

He had no choice.

Russell had dropped his daughter on Max like a woodcutter felling an oak tree.

“In principle, I agree to both your propositions,” he said as calmly as he could. “Shall we?” Courteously he let the older man enter the building first and followed up the narrow stairway leading to the busy solicitor’s office, the clerk with half a dozen quills stuck in his hair waving them on with only a small bow of acknowledgement.

All through the discussion of the various documents that put the agreement in place, Max’s mind kept drifting elsewhere. Every time he hit upon an objection to the marriage, a reasonable solution popped into his mind.

Now he’d regained his fortune, women would start chasing him. He’d seen it happen to other men. Now his turn had arrived. Some mysterious scent, like trailing a corpse for the hounds affected men of title, wealth, and enough youth not to repel. No, forget the last one, Max had seen eighty-year-old dukes fall for the wiles of a twenty-year-old woman.

Hell and damnation, he’d never had this difficulty making up his mind.

Yes, damn it, he’d do it. He nodded when Mr. Fisk hesitated. “Go on. I daresay the marriage settlement is here?”

His own man of business shot him a startled look. Max gave him a beatific smile in return. The original contract agreed upon, they settled to discussing the marriage contract and its ramifications.

So Sophia was four-and-twenty? He had thought her younger. That changed his perspective on his colleague’s proposal because he’d never been in favor of marrying chits straight out of the schoolroom. He’d never had the luxury of a childhood or the customary Grand Tour that young men of his status generally undertook before settling into what passed for ordinary life. Max had little in common with the brats he’d been introduced to and found more conducive conversation with older women, who’d seen a little more and expected a lot less.

He had to force himself to concentrate on the signing. He never signed a contract without reading it through just before he signed, in case the other party had tried to slip something in, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always noticed.

Today he could have been signing his soul away to the devil. He tried, but couldn’t concentrate.

He hovered his pen over the other contract, the one binding him for life to a woman he hardly knew. And had a brainwave. “I cannot sign this without the other party present.”

“Of course,” Russell said smoothly. “But we can have it ready for Sophia to sign. You can sign your part now.”

Max tested the proposal, considered the aspects of tying himself to someone for life. If the personal association didn’t work, they would always have the business one.

When Max made a decision, he didn’t delay. He preferred to see the matter through swiftly and efficiently. As far as he was concerned, the matter was set aside to be filed with a blue ribbon, his office code for “Done.”

He signed the document in the requisite places with a few sure slashes of the pen. Then, with a smile, he returned them to their men of business to arrange the copies and the filing.

He’d leave telling his mother until tomorrow.