The Duke of Wintercrest did his best to steady his nerves. He paced up and down the street of his townhouse for many hours before finally going inside. He couldn’t believe that, after all that had been done in the protection of Isabella, that scoundrel was still going to get away with what he had done.
Had the duke been a naval man still, he would have considered settling this matter as most men did on the ship, inside a boxing ring. The duke flexed his hands again. What he wouldn’t give to duel with this man.
It wasn’t the way things were settled back here in town, however. The duke despised the fact that this villain would now be given everything he wanted, only to right the wrong he willfully created.
The duke didn’t care much for the matter of the cost. He would gladly pay any amount to seek justice for the woman he cared about. In fact, he liked the fact that this would give him the expedited end that he had known was necessary, before even leaving his country seat.
He hated, however, how smug he knew his unknown villain would be on the morrow, when the duke proposed any means necessary for him to retract his words.
It must have been the end that this Mr. Smith sought after all. He knew that Mr. Smith had no other means to pay over the amount owed, after such a failed venture. The moment Mr. Smith found out that Isabella was living in the duke’s home, he, no doubt, produced this plan as a means to have someone else pay his own debts.
Even worse, the duke knew that once Mr. Smith saw he was getting all he wanted, it would never be enough. He had to think up some means to make sure that Mr. Smith would settle for the agreed upon amount and never come after Isabella, nay, even think her name, ever again.
The duke combed over everything he knew of the knave for the rest of the night, including most of the personal, corporate documents that he had purchased from a disgruntled employee.
It wasn’t until dawn’s light, that the duke finally saw the answer that had been staring at him all through the night. He smiled excitedly as he rummaged through his copy of documents, proving to himself that what he was seeing was, in fact, true.
He smiled to himself as he sat back in his chair for the first time since leaving Mr. Jenkins’ office. He had the means to make sure Mr. Smith never bothered Isabella again.
The duke quickly changed into a fresh cravat and coat and made his way back down the townhouse stairs to leave at once. He knew that Mr. Smith, a man of business, would be at the docks at this early hour. The duke would not waste a minute in finally putting all back to right.
“Christian,” his mother’s voice called from her room before he made his way fully down the stairs.
“Are you going somewhere so early in the morning?” she asked as she wrapped a dressing gown around her.
“Yes, I have some business to attend to. It won’t take more than a few hours. I should even be home in time for breakfast.”
“Is this about Isabella?” his mother asked, coming to stand at the top of the stairs. “Don’t think that I was blind to the real reason you insisted we all come to London. I am well aware of the various business ventures you have been making on her behalf, while we have been here in town.”
“I just,” Lady Wintercrest paused to make sure she got her wording right. “I just want you to pause and think about your actions first. What if this ruins Abigail’s chances or maybe even Jacqueline’s?”
“Do not worry on my behalf,” another voice called from behind the duke’s mother.
Lady Abigail also stepped from her room. She had also awoken and had been listening to the whole conversation held on the stairwell.
“I will not ask you to give up your happiness for the future chance of mine. I love you dearly, brother, and Isabella too. I will not rob you. If I cannot find a gentleman that will overlook wrongs done to my family, then I dare say I wouldn’t want to have him anyway.” Lady Abigail spoke with a fire that matched her red hair, currently flowing around her in a wild, early morning mess.
The duke walked back up the stairs to stand next to two of the most important women in his life.
“Mother, I do intend to right the wrong that has been done to Isabella. You are right in thinking this. I also intend to march straight over to Isabella the moment I am done with the matter. I intend to marry her.”
The duke spoke the words with a tender but final tone. He wanted his mother’s blessing on the matter, but also knew that he could live without it more than he could live without Isabella.
“I too, love Isabella dearly,” his mother replied, “but are you sure this is the course you want to take? It will not be an easy one for either of you.” She meant the words for both of her children. She looked between them, making sure they understood the gravity of the situation.
The duke kept his eyes on his sister to see that she was in complete awareness of the consequences of what she was about to accept. She looked back at him and gave a nod of approval.
The duke broke out into a warm smile and kissed his sister on the cheek.
“Save your kisses for your bride,” Lady Abigail teased back, giving him a sibling shove.
“I suppose, if this is the course you wish to take, I will accept it. Your poor father would turn in his grave if he knew you intended to wed the governess. I, on the other hand,” Lady Wintercrest said with a wicked grin much like the one her son often gave, “am happy that you have found someone to love truly.”
The duke thanked his mother before returning down the stairs and out the door. Both ladies returned to their own rooms, though they were much too awake to go back to sleep.
The duke thought on his mother’s words as he rode in his carriage to the docks. His mother had chosen propriety in her match over love. Perhaps she had been hesitant because it had worked out well in the end for her.
The duke could not say for certain that his parents ever loved each other, but they did have a mutual affection. He knew that his mother cared deeply for Isabella and wished for nothing more than the happiness of her children, but perhaps she worried that choosing love might lose its luster over time.
As a woman who had never had the chance to experience such emotions herself, it was no wonder that she could not see that such a thing was not possible. The duke was sure he would move heaven and earth for Isabella’s wellbeing and happiness. That would never change over time, except to increase.
As the duke came upon the merchant front, he returned his thoughts to the problem at hand. He couldn’t help but notice the freshly painted sign overhanging the entrance. It read “Baron and Smith Shipping Co.” The ‘and’ was extremely small, making it look like Baron Smith.
It only fueled the duke's rage more to see that this man had the audacity to take from his business partner everything that Baron Leinster had, including his own daughter's reputation, and then attempt to steal his name as well.
This Mr. Smith seemed to have no honor or compassion for the dead at all. The duke wondered how Isabella’s father could have been friends with such a salty character.
He knew, of course, from his time at sea that most men who employed themselves on the ocean had less than outstanding morals. That said, usually only those of good character were promoted as far as partner in a prestigious shipping company.
The duke strolled into the building with his head held high and shoulders back. Even for the early hour, the offices were already filled and busy with work. He stopped before a gentleman busily writing on parchment.
“I have come to speak with the proprietor of the business, a Mr. Smith.”
The man looked the duke up and down. He could easily tell from his fine coat and exquisitely placed knot that he was a gentleman of means.
“Yes, m’lord. And who should I tell Mr. Smith is calling on ‘im?”
“The Duke of Wintercrest,” the duke said, handing over his card. “Though Mr. Smith is not expecting me, I wager he will be most eager to meet.”
“Right away, Your Grace,” the secretary said with larger eyes now and a bob to his head.
The man hurried down the hall and up a set of stairs to the main office where Mr. Smith was. The duke paced the room a few times again, making sure he checked his anger. It would do him no good to fly into a rage at the man.
He was best to face the villain with a calm and cool nature. He heard footsteps returning and reminded himself to take another steadying breath.
“He will see ya right away, Your Grace,” the man said, motioning for the duke to follow.
“I thank you kindly,” the duke said, walking in front of the man.
The office itself was in a shabby state. It was not uncommon for the outside of these dock offices to look rather gray from soot and salt air. The interior of the office usually fared much better. This was not the case for Mr. Smith’s workspace. It was a large, mess with dirt and mold seeming to fill every corner.
Mr. Smith himself sat behind a large oak desk also littered heavily with paperwork. He was not a very organized man, apparently. Not only was his desk out of sorts, but his person was also.
His jacket looked as if it had never been brushed and the rim of his knot and cuffs were stained with a yellow tinge. The room stank of unwashed man and tobacco.
“Please, do have a seat, Your Grace,” Mr. Smith said with a blackened smile.
It was right cheerful to see the duke stand in his doorway. He knew that one way or another Miss Watts would have used her connection to others to pay for his silence. He hadn’t expected it would go as high as a duke. It was more than he could have hoped for. He expected he would end the day with a yearly sum, by way of patronage, from the duke.
The duke looked down at the shabby, dirty chair across the desk from the proprietor and hesitated to sit in it. He looked around the room instead and found a hardback wooden chair against a wall. He hoped that this, at least, wouldn't soil his pantaloons.
He, in all honesty, couldn’t care less for his garments, but he wanted to show Mr. Smith that he detested him and the state of his office. It would be an insult to Mr. Smith and a smooth one, at that. It would be the beginning of the game the duke was about to play.
He walked over to the chair and brought it forward. Taking a moment to remove a silk handkerchief, he dusted the seat before sitting. Mr. Smith ground his jaw in response to the duke's actions and seemed to look around the room for the first time.
“I expect you know why I have come?” the duke took control of the conversation.
“I would never presume to know, Your Grace,” Mr. Smith retorted.
“Be that as it may, I am sure you are aware that Miss Watts has been in my employment over the last year.”
“I was not aware in the least where the child took her vocation.”
“Strange, because you seemed to have been sending an inordinate number of letters to her at my home.”
Mr. Smith’s face turned a little ashen at the mention of his threatening correspondence. He ran a dirty hand through the greasy mop of hair on top of his head. The man didn’t even have the decency to pull back his black and grey hair with a ribbon.
“I am not sure I know what you are talking about.” Mr. Smith finally said, getting control of his fear.
“I can sit here and discuss the matter with you all day until you are proven in your lies, Mr. Smith, but frankly I would rather not spend one moment more than necessary in this foul place.”
“I have come to inform you that you will be publicly retracting the accusations you have made against Miss Watts and to inform you that you will never so much as speak her name again.”
“And why would I do such a thing? She has stolen from me, and I only seek justice in the matter.”
The duke rose from his seat in an instant. Rising to his full height, he bore down on the filth in front of him. “You will never speak such foul lies in my presence again, or I shall have you arrested.”
Mr. Smith shrank back from the power of the duke.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, for the offense. I mean merely to say that there are amounts that must be paid and can only be done if the sum is given me.”
“I suspected you hoped that would be the case in today's meeting. I am well aware of what you did with the sum taken from the late Baron Leinster’s estate. What an unfortunate gamble you made,” he added with a tsk. “I am willing to give you the amount of fifty pounds for you to publicly retract your statement against Miss Watts.”
“Fifty pounds ain’t even half of what I owe,” Mr. Smith blurted out, clearly disappointed with the proposition.
“Yet it is all you will get, and it is a very generous offer. I shouldn’t give you a single copper, but I will, because I am a gentleman.”
“And say I refuse such offer, Your Grace. Say I choose to have Miss Watts thrown in debtors’ prison instead.”
“Then you would have no means to pay back even a portion of your debt.”
“Aye, but I would get the satisfaction of seeing that girl in rags behind bars.”
Mr. Smith was playing his only card. He also knew it was a good one and that the duke would have no choice but to submit to any terms he deemed fit to silence him.
The duke paused a moment and seemed to think the matter over as if it had never crossed his mind in the past. “I suppose you could do that. I would have no means to stop you.”
“You could pay me more, Your Grace,” Mr. Smith blurted out, so hungry for the money.
“I could, but I won't,” the duke stated bluntly. “Please, let me clarify why you will be taking my offer and, in fact, thanking me for it.”
“You may not be aware, but before I inherited my father's title, I was a Captain in the Royal Navy. I couldn’t help but notice that a very significant portion of your exports last year dealt with Naval contracts, exporting goods all over the British Empire.”
“I don’t know how you know any of that information, Your Grace, but I don’t see how it will serve your proposal to me.”
The duke smiled at this. It was a simple game of cat and mouse, and he had just cornered Mr. Smith. “I saw that most of these contracts were produced by Admiral Brown. No doubt, he was a good friend of Baron Leinster?”
“That is correct,” Mr. Smith said, as he desperately tried to find the end of this conversation.
“I know the gentleman well. He captained my first ship. In fact, he was also great friends with my father and came to visit us often when I was a child. One might say he was the one who inspired me to join the naval service in the first place.”
Mr. Smith narrowed his eyes at the duke.
“I would assume since most of your profits over the years came from such arrangements with Admiral Brown, that it would be devastating if he were to take his business elsewhere.”
“And you are trying to tell me, Your Grace, that if I don’t accept your amount and retract my statement, you will remove said client from my business?”
“All it would take is a simple letter,” the duke ended. He folded his hands in front of him and sighed as if this meeting was becoming too boring for him.
“How do I know you are not just making this up?”
“Well, there is the little fact that, unlike yourself, I am a man of my word. But if that isn’t enough proof for you, I suggest you test my word. Sure, you may land Miss Watts in prison, but you, too, will be following her there shortly, when you're unable to pay back any of your debts, and you will lose your business.”
“I am offering you something vastly more generous than I should,” the duke continued with another sigh. “I don’t have to offer you a sum in any amount. I could simply inform you that if you do not retract your statement, you will find yourself out of business by the end of the year.”
Mr. Smith’s eyes widened as he considered this fact inwardly.
“I am a very generous man to give you something at all. So, I suggest you take my offer before I change my mind,” the duke added in a warning tone.
“I 'spose I have no choice but to take your deal then,” Mr. Smith finally grumbled after thinking it over for some time.
“Wonderful, the funds will be delivered to you as soon as you sign this letter stating that you made the whole thing up to tarnish Miss Watts’ name and that you, yourself, took possession of all of Baron Leinster’s estate.”
The duke put parchment on top of the pile covering the desk. He stood tall above the man while he waited for the signature.
“For your information, this letter will also be published in The Morning Chronicle,” the duke added, taking back the letter. “I have heard that you are quite fond of that particular paper, are you not?”
“Yes, I ‘spose so, Your Grace,” the man grumbled back.
“Now, I believe it doesn’t need to be said but just to be sure, if you ever so much as speak Miss Watts’ name again, even in the privacy of your own home, I will make good on my promise to remove all business associated with any and all colleagues at my disposal. I can promise you that my hand reaches far past the Admiral.”
Mr. Smith nodded sullenly. The meeting hadn't gone at all as he had expected. The duke, on the other hand, was feeling a vast weight lifted after having the signed letter back in his coat pocket.
The duke deposited the discussed amount in a leather bag on top of the desk.
“Do try and be a little bit wiser with your money,” he said before donning his hat and leaving the room.
He paused at the door and turned back around, “There is one more thing I need from you before I go.”