Page 31 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
Leonard turned to face Felix, his face bright. “Think about it, Felix. We get the grapes planted for the future. They are an assurance for the Marlows that your future is secure, that your fortune will grow. But for now, we expand Whitfield Wines to include highbrow mead and beer. Drinks for the everyday, made by the best.”
“But… would they buy it? What about your orders?”
“Mead can be made in a month. Beer even sooner,” Dubois said.
“Yes, of course. We can offer to supplement all wine orders with beer and mead, at a discounted cost. It will get our product out for all of thetonto try. It could be worth a fortune!” Leonard exclaimed.
“If done right,” Felix tempered. “Dubois, what do you mean when you say your men need overseeing?”
Dubois’s sturdy chest puffed out. “They are artists, sir. They live for the creation of the perfect drink. But because they make the perfect drink, they want to try. Maybe they like it so much, they cannot stop drinking it.” He sniffed. “It is not a problem I have, myself, though I am also an artist. I hold myself to higher standards.”
Felix did not let himself look at Leonard, knowing if he did he would not be able to hold back the laugh bubbling in his throat. “So they were let go from previous positions?”
“They had to flee France,” Dubois said seriously. “But they are better now, and with the proper overseer, they will flourish! I’m sure of it!”
Leonard turned a sharp eye to the Frenchman. “What if I bring them in, they drink all of the wares, and there is nothing to sell? Will you accept the cost as your own?”
Dubois’ eyes darted around the room. Then he nodded. “I will. I trust them.”
“But what about the costs required to get all of this off the ground? It will be very expensive,” said Felix.
“My company will cover the costs,” Leonard said firmly. “I won’t hear anything more about it. You are creating a new branch of Whitfield Wines. Why, we shall have to change the name!” He smiled in excitement. “We can rent the space and land from you, hire the work out, take care of everything and pay you a percentage.”
“What if we considered a different arrangement?” Felix said slowly. “A full partnership?”
“A partnership? Tell me more.”
“If I had a backer, someone to help me with the funds necessary to go in on this with you at a fifty-fifty split, would you consider making me a partner in Whitfield Wines? Not a full partnership, of course, as it is your family legacy. But a percentage. Or a percentage of the new ‘everyday’ branch that has the mead and beer.” Felix saw a path extending ahead of him, a way to rise above the poverty that had defined his life since he had lost his parents.
But it would be nothing if Leonard does not agree.
Leonard looked at him for a moment, saying nothing. The seconds ticked by, loud on the dining table clock, even over the sound of Dubois pouring the last bit of wine into his glass.
Finally, Leonard looked up, a wide, boyish grin overtaking his face. “This is the best idea I’ve heard since you demanded I marry your sister,” he said.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now, Leonard, think on it, speak with your father, you—”
“I know what Father will say. He has fully passed the business to me now. He trusts me to manage it correctly, and that means making my own calls as to how it is run. And what I think, truly, is that this is the perfect way to grow Whitfield Wines. To add new blood, to offer more selection. Felix,” he slapped a hand on the table. “You and I will be the talk of England!”
Chapter Fifteen
They spent the rest of the day at the table in the dining room, as the shadows lengthened and the world outside darkened, motivated forward as much by the drum of rain on the glass as by the bottles of wine Harriet brought from the cellar, one after another.
Though Felix was watching every penny, many of these bottles had been gifted to him by his brother-in-law sitting now at his table, and so it felt appropriate to keep it flowing alongside their ideas and plans.
They discussed rates, costs, and how to split the business. They spoke of everything from flavors to business names, from balls to bottle labels.
“The paintings you created for the new wine bottles were excellent,” Felix was saying. “You will have to create a new painting for the beer and mead lines.”
“I’m thinking-” Leonard began.
Dubois sat bolt upright from where he had been snoozing, open-mouthed, on the table, his lips virulently purple with wine, his clothes and hair fully dried now from the heat of the fire. “Bees!”
“Bees?” Felix repeated, confused. “Weren’t you just asleep?”
“Bees!” he slurred. “You will needbeeeees, monsieur! Honey mead, made fresh in this wet and cold country, to warm your spirit and make you think of home.” He snuggled with the empty wine bottle, taking it to the table with him as his eyes drifted closed once more.
“He has a point,” Leonard conceded, and wrote it in his notebook. “You have the land for it, why not make honey? We can use the fresh honey in the mead.”
