The Duke went directly to the nearest tavern and ordered a double scotch.

He had several more and was becoming sullen, drunk, and morose when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He spun around thinking it was some bum trying to cadge a drink.

“What?” he snapped. It was one of the gentlemen from the meeting—a scrawny, dried-up looking older man with thinning hair and red blotchy skin.

The man looked as though he was reconsidering whether he wanted to speak to Arnold or not.

“I am sorry, Mr. Campbell. I do not take rejection well,” Arnold mumbled.

The gentleman appeared to change his mind and he called the barkeep. “I’ll have what he is having and another for him.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Come, sit with me. I have something I would like to discuss with you privately,” the gentleman said, and led them to a private table in a far corner of the tavern.

They settled into place as the barkeep brought the drinks.

“My good man, bring us a bottle of that for the table,” Arnold insisted.

“Yes, sir.”

Both gentlemen sipped their drinks for a moment in silence, and then Arnold asked, “And just what do you have to say to me? Have you rethought my proposal? Do you want to offer the deal to me?”

The gentleman made a circle with his hand on the table, as though he was trying to wipe away a nonexistent spill.

“No, it is about something else.”

“Aye? And what is that?” Arnold asked, surly in his reply.

“I have another proposal. It is a business deal that is… well… it… let us say is less than honorable.”

“Explain.”

“As you probably do not know, I am rather highly placed in the Church of England. I have some family money that is invested in rather low paying gilt-edge securities. However, I want to put that investment to better use.”

“That makes sense,” Arnold said, pouring them each another drink from the bottle.

“And I have the opportunity to invest, as I have said, in a venture that would not be appropriate for a churchman, such as myself, to be seen investing in.”

“And that would be?”

“African slaves bound for Jamaica.”

“Oh.”

“As I am sure you are probably aware, there is a great moral movement to abolish slavery afoot in this country at the moment. And while I find that to be quite a respectable position to hold publicly, privately, this opportunity is quite a golden opportunity for me to make a very nice and quick profit. And I am sure you can see my predicament.”

“And why are you telling me this? Are you asking me to invest with you?”

“Not at all. I am looking for a cover.”

“I do not understand. And what has this got to do with me?”

“Patience, my man. I shall explain. I cannot be seen to be dealing in the slave trade. And I am proposing that the deal be in your name. I shall, of course, set up and pay for the transaction, but I shall give you a nice piece of the profit for your part in the transaction.”

“What will I need to do?”

“Absolutely nothing. I shall take care of all the details, except that it will be in your name.”

“And you will pay me what?”

“A ten percent cut of the profit.”

“And when will that be?”

“When the shipment is received in Jamaica—in about ten months.”

“Ten months? Are you serious? That is forever from now.”

“But it will take time to set up our arrangement—to capture the slaves—transport them and take them to auction. These matters take time. It is an investment not an over the counter transaction. And I am not asking you to put up any of the money nor take any of the risk. Remember, there is always the risk of losses at sea. One cannot account for storms, shipwrecks, any number of diseases or other unforeseen misfortunes.”

“And you are saying, all I need to do is lend you my name?”

“Exactly.”

“And what do you estimate my payout would be?” Arnold asked, pouring himself another drink.

“Several thousand more or less.”

“By several do you mean two, three, four thousand. Be more specific.”

“Two-five or three.”

“And would there be similar opportunities like this in the future?”

“I would like to think so—if you are still interested, of course.”

Arnold rubbed his chin. “This would be strictly confidential—just between us?”

“Of course. We both have a reputation to maintain,” Mr. Campbell replied.

“Hmm. Then count me in.”

Percy was feeling desperate. He sent a note to Maria right after his talk with the Duke, inviting her to the picnic—which she would need to organize. He would pick her up in his horse cart, but she would need to have the picnic basket prepared. He knew it was asking a lot, but he needed to have a serious talk with her. He did not want to have to go to London to shop for a bride. He had a great fondness for Maria—if not quite a burning love.

She had agreed, and he pulled the horse trap up to the entrance to Creassey Manor promptly at noon.

Maria was waiting for him. A footman loaded the picnic basket on to the back of the trap and they were soon off on their way.

It was another pleasant Wiltshire summer afternoon and Percy had decided to drive to a lake on his family property. One side was partially wooded and would provide shelter from the sun and a pleasant overview of the water.

“I am so happy you agreed to have lunch with me today, Maria. Have you brought us something pleasant for the picnic?”

“I believe so,” she said, taking Percy’s arm as he drove the trap back toward the Billingsford Estate.

“Have you recovered from the dance?” he asked her grinning from ear to ear.

“More or less. But I can see why we entertain so infrequently. It is a lot of work on top of my full household duties.”

“Perhaps you need more staff.”

“Harry likes to maintain a tight ship. While the estate is profitable, it also operates on a narrow margin, as Harry so often tells me. I have no idea what that means, but I know it means we must be careful of our expenses.”

They finally arrived at the lake and Percy helped Maria down and together they lifted the basket off the trap and took it to a pleasant grassy spot in partial sun by the lakeside.

Percy spread out a blanket for them to sit on, as Maria opened up the basket and prepared the lunch.

There were a number of swallows chasing each other over the lake—swooping and shooting back up into the heat-hazy sky. The two were entranced with the birds and conversed only mindlessly until the last of the wine was finished, and the two lay back on the blanket, their hands behind their head and closed their eyes to rest for a moment.

Then Percy hiked himself up on one arm and tentatively asked, “Maria, you know I care for you a great deal.”

“Yes, I know that, Percy. Why do you say this now?”

“We have talked around the idea of marriage, but we have never been very clear about our intentions.”

This caught Maria’s attention and she sat up to face Percy. “Well, dear friend, you never seemed to want to talk about marriage. It appears to me that you like your freedom and your carefree lifestyle and I never thought you were seriously interested in marriage.”

“That may have been true, but there comes a time in every man’s life when he needs to become responsible and begin to think about his future—our future.” Maria surprised Percy by laughing. “Maria… You mock me?”

“Oh, Percy, not at all. It is just that you are suddenly so serious. Has something come up that you want to discuss these matters now?”

Percy did not want to offend Maria by being too blunt, so he edged into the subject by saying, “I am afraid my father is not well.”

“Oh, Percy,” she said sitting up straighter and giving him her full attention. “What has he said?”

“I am not certain it is a physical illness. But he seems distracted and I fear he has not been attending to the business of the estate as he should.” He paused for effect and assumed an attitude of great sorrow. “Therefore, I feel that I must take on more of the responsibility for the family.”

Maria nodded as she added, “That sounds very sensible, Percy.”

It was now time to get to the heart of the matter. “And as a result, I have been taking stock of how I might help and my question for you is—should we marry, what sort of a living do you have to bring to the marriage?” He lowered his head and his eyes to show how painful it was to ask her this question. “Of course, that is not my main motive, but it is a way for me to formulate my future. I hope you understand.”

“I do. And my answer is that I have about three thousand left me by my maternal grandmother. I realize it is not a great deal, but that is the reality. And then I have my own issue I must consider.”

“Yes?”

“I am responsible for helping run our estate. I share every bit as much in the work as Harry does. If I were to marry, that would put a great strain on the household and someone would need to replace me.”

“But certainly, a housekeeper could be employed, would that not be so?”

“Perhaps. But it would somewhat depend on how well the cattle business was going. It is growing, and the future looks good for the estate, but at present, I am not certain Harry could afford to lose me.”

“I see.” Percy became quiet and turned and stared out across the lake.

“Percy?” Maria asked after a moment. “What are you thinking?”

He turned to her. He could not say it, but he realized he would need to go to London in search of a bride. Maria’s three thousand would not be enough to save the family estate. And he also realized that he would miss having Maria as his wife, for he really did care for her.

He turned back to her and said, “I am thinking that you might need a little more time before we consider marrying, as I can see your responsibilities do not allow you the freedom to consider a proposal from me at this time.”

Maria looked disappointed but asked, “You are considering a marriage between us?”

“My darling, it is my dearest desire.”

“Then we must be patient until the time is just right,” she said with a sad smile.