He had been played as a fool.

James Campbell, the Duke of Durham, had been manipulated from the start and was only just coming to realize it now.

Lucy had come back from her day off ill at ease and clearly not herself, but all his questioning had left him with few answers. She’d apologized profusely for having had to take the extra day, having been caught in the storm, but had said little about where she’d gone. Only to see a ‘friend.’

When the letter had come nearly a week later, the whole thing had unraveled.

Lucy usually had little to do with James’ correspondence. He had a man who handled the more mundane tasks regarding the care of his wardrobe and the answering of invitations. So, to find Lucy in his office, trying to tuck a letter within the pocket of her apron had been shocking, to say the least.

She’d cried then and begged him not to open it, that it had been sent in error. Would that he had listened then, for even now as he thought back on it, he realized that he’d felt the sticky spirals of the spider’s web forming around him. But he had been moved by Lucy’s tears. Had she not been his nurse since childhood? Had he not devoted himself to her care now that he was grown?

But the letter had meant very little without the rest of the story. He had been surprised to hear that the Duke of York had any interest in him whatsoever. To have him propose a venture was laughable — what capital did he have for such an enterprise? To become a partner would take the funds to cover his share, and in the wake of the disaster with his own ships, he had none.

He would have none for a very long time. His partner had been thorough in the destruction of his financial well-being.

But Lucy had had an answer for that as well. That rose, that blasted rose that even now was burning a hole through the pocket of his waistcoat. She’d pulled it out calm as you please and presented him with it, calling it a gift, and the means to take advantage of the proposed partnership. Salvation in the form of five perfect rubies.

And to think she’d sat down, calm as you please and darned socks while she detailed to him, precisely what he must do to earn it. As though the hiring of his affections was of no consequence at all.

Then to have this man stand there and question him about his intentions as though his arrival in this house at this time was fully expected? The entire matter was too much.

Had he been still standing, he might have needed to sit down. Thankfully it was only his host upon his feet, which saved James from falling down in shock, and gave him an excuse to leap to his own feet, in a blinding fury that took even him by surprise.

“Then you are a part of this miserable game?” he asked, fumbling for the rose in his waistcoat, and nearly tearing the pocket in his haste to remove the jewel. He slammed it down on the desk between them, sending papers scattering in a soft avalanche to the floor.

The man stared at the rose with an expression upon his face that could only be construed as wistful. “Ah…I had wondered at her not wearing it. I think I begin to understand.”

“Well at least one of us does!” James exploded, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “I surely do not. I am not a commodity to be bought and sold. There is the rose, take it back. I want no part in it or in any of this!”

“That is a shame then,” Barrington said softly, picking up the brooch and examining it with an eye, not as a man looking at the value of a thing, but for the memory it contained. “For I just might have had a proposition for you.”

James eyed him warily. “There seem to be quite a plethora of propositions floating around here already.”

“You fail to understand?” Barrington’s smile was back, if anything, wider than before. “I will take this brooch from you, as a buy-in for this venture. With your investment and my shipbuilding company, we will do as you say and try this American venture.”

“That blasted rose is not mine to use as currency!” James shouted. Barrington simply stared at him until he dropped back in the chair in such frustrated agony that he quite simply could not find another word to say. “Fine. Carry on. As you were saying…”

“I was saying that we carry out this venture, and in return, you carry out your task…not to marry the girl. While I know some arrange marriages for their offspring with little regard for emotional attachment, I would not wish that on anyone. My Anne…well suffice to say, she was an amazing woman. Both partner and friend. I would not have my daughter experience anything less.”

“But why…?”

Barrington stared at him. “You truly did not see it, did you? No…I will not be the one to point it out. Perhaps this whole idea is not as crazy as it might have seemed at first glance.”

“You want me to court your daughter. For money.” James crossed his arms. This time it was his turn to stare Barrington down. “That hardly seems honorable.”

“Nor does the theft of a priceless artifact from this house,” Barrington said. His face could have been carved from stone.

James felt the blood drain from his face. “You knew.”

“I told you, there is little I do not know. A man who has no awareness of what goes on beneath his roof is hardly a man at all.”

Point taken. James let his arms fall, what little bit of smug certainty he’d had evaporating like the fog that rolled in over the ocean every morning. “You would hold me to this arrangement.”

Barrington’s eyes were steel. “I would hold you to a great deal more if it would make my daughter happy.”

James stood, drawing himself up with barely suppressed anger. “Five visits then. No promises. No expectations. Then this debt is paid.”

“Five visits. The brooch is yours to do as you will with. I am earnest in what I have proposed.” Barrington withdrew a packet of papers from his desk. “I took the liberty of having this agreement drawn up. Read it, have someone look at it if it makes you feel better. You have until next Tuesday to make your answer.”

James shuffled through the papers, amazed at the complexity and detail. “And then what?”

“Then what? I expect you will need to make the acquaintance of my daughter. I think we had best start with a meal. Something small. A dinner. Perhaps a handful of guests. I shall let you know the details.”