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The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel by Hamilton, Hanna (16)

Chapter 15

The meeting proved to be more interesting and immensely more profitable than James had first supposed. The men wound up talking late, enjoying the Duke of York’s fine brandy. The older men had both smoked a pipe as the evening wore on. James had abstained, too absorbed in the documents that Barrington had drawn up, in more detail than the previous proposals. There had been several additions that looked to profit them both.

The more that James spent time with Barrington, the more he had come to respect the other man’s kind mind. He was a shrewd businessman and had he not been born to a title, it was not entirely impossible that he would have found a way into a very respectable fortune and name in his own right had he been left to his own devices.

In fact, it seemed that much of his business acumen had come from the time spent on his father’s ships back when he’d thought the title would go to his brother.

“It did me good,” Barrington said at one point. “Having no assurance of being the titled heir, I felt I had something to prove. When I set sail the first time, it was as the ship’s cabin boy — completely against my father’s wishes. He would have me made an officer immediately had I been of age.” Barrington laughed heartily at this. “I admit I chose the sea over my studies for a time.”

Would James had done half so well had he been so educated? He saw clearly now the mistakes he had made in taking a partner who had turned out to be untrustworthy. He’d not followed his instincts enough.

And now? Should I follow what my instincts tell me in this situation?

The problem was, he knew the proposition to be sound. In fact, the only thing that lay in the way of taking advantage of this particular contract was the funding for the venture. And that lay in his waistcoat pocket, where he had carried it since it had been given back to him along with the papers. He was to present both if…no…when he signed.

He touched it now through the fabric, noting the contours of the rose. Dinner had turned out to be pleasant enough, at least until his lady had fled upstairs. But meeting her and talking to her face to face had left him with another quandary: namely that James no longer wished to be part of this particular game.

But I need the money. Not only to save my own reputation and fortune but for my household who depend on me. For Lucy, who should not work any longer at her age, and for the dozens of others that make up my staff.

Besides, what kind of man would accept payment for courting a fair maiden?

Prescott was dozing now by the fire, his pipe long since gone out. “‘Tis a good thing,” Barrington said, rising to rescue the object before it could fall. “He nearly burned down my house last he was here. Scorched the carpet when he dozed off, the old fool. We had to move that table over the spot.” He pointed at the small table that held the papers they’d been perusing.

“If he is asleep then, perhaps it is best if we talk,” James began, reaching into his pocket for the brooch, only to have his sleeve grabbed, Barrington having snagged him and drawn him away from the fire.

“I know what you would say,” Barrington murmured with a wary look at his friend across the room, “and would rather we not discussed this here, lest we be overheard. Prescott never sleeps too deep, and really none of this is any of his business.”

Barrington poured himself a fresh drink from the decanter on the sideboard and motioned toward the glass cradled in James’s hand. James shook his head, waiting while his host stoppered the bottle. “If you would give me but a moment, I’ll send him home, and we can talk.”

“There is little enough to say,” James said with a glance at the man sleeping across the room. “I cannot do it.”

Barrington’s face grew hard and cold. “Cannot or will not? I understand that she is…difficult…”

“You misunderstand me. I do not find her difficult at all. Quite the opposite. I will not take money to court a lady. To grow a fortune from such a seed seems destined to bring disaster.”

“Superstitious nonsense! Look here, sir, I would have you know that my daughter has paid for your services fair and square. We have an agreement, and I expect you to follow through with it. Never have I seen Helena so radiant as she was tonight. You will see this through. All that remains on those papers is your signature, and you have all that you need.”

“And I give you the brooch.” James threw up his hands. “I would give it to you now and be done with the entire matter. No papers, no venture. Give the pin back to the girl and let me depart in peace.”

“That is not for me to accept. You made this arrangement with her. If you wish to renege on your agreement,” Barrington sneered these words, “then there is little I can do about it. But I will not step in where I have no business stepping.”

James stared at him. “I had NOTHING to do with it! I neither negotiated the original agreement nor have I signed your papers, committing me to your proposal, Sir!”

“And yet you came to my table and sat next to my daughter and courted her in full view of witnesses, I might add,” Barrington said, his voice deadly quiet.

Prescott snored from his chair near the fire, shifting noisily in his chair.

“This is neither the time nor place,” Barrington reminded him, with a pointed look at the banker, who to all appearances seemed to be waking.

“Then tell me when,” James said, drawing himself up. “I shall return, and we shall settle this matter once and for all.”

“Heavens sir, you sound like you’d call me out on a duel!” Barrington raised his glass and drank, watching him curiously over the crystal.

“You would sell your daughter for five rubies?” James ground out between clenched teeth.

“No. I would buy her happiness if I could, but this deal was not of my making, remember, but hers.”

“You would allow it. Why not let her leave the house? Have her season. She seems no less accomplished than any other young woman of the ton. Let her be courted properly by them as would have her.”

“Are you mad?” Barrington flung the glass across the room, where it splintered against the hearth, causing Prescott to snort and sit up blearily before falling back against the cushion and seeming to fall back asleep. “And expose her to that…ridicule. Or worse, their pity? Oh, she would marry, many would be willing to endure anything for a chance at the only child of a Duke. Her dowry is certainly sufficient.”

“Sir, I would surely call you out for speaking such about one so as refined and beautiful as your daughter.”

Barrington stared at him. “You mean that?”

“I do!” James snapped, too overwrought to couch his words.

Barrington burst into laughter, the sound startling Prescott for good this time. “You honestly mean that? You have hidden depths indeed. No, do not interrupt, let me speak. If you wish to be free of this agreement, then return here Tuesday as we’d discussed. Take the papers and look at them. Have your own solicitor or banker go over them with you.”

“What good will that do?” James asked, furious that the man thought so little of him as to laugh.

“Hopefully it will give you time enough to see reason. Do not be over hasty in your decision. Prescott!” Barrington turned to the banker who was looking around the room, somewhat bewildered as though wondering just where he’d woken. “Gather your things, ’tis high time you went home, do you not think so? Sleep in your own bed and leave my fire for myself and my dogs.”

He shot a glance at James, one corner of his mouth turning up in a wry grin. “Take this young upstart with you before he calls us both out for keeping him up too late. My god, the youth and their dueling…”

James looked from one to the other. “I cannot see myself changing my mind.”

“Nor will I. It should make for an interesting meeting then, will it not? Good night, Sir. I look forward to your company on Tuesday next.”

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