Page 32 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
And they were off once more, planning and dreaming and drinking from a seemingly endless well of fine Whitfield Wines.
At last, at full dark, with both feeling just slightly heavy-headed from the wine, they agreed on the basics.
“You will be a forty-percent partner,” Leonard said, running one finger down the page before him. “You will be solely responsible for the mead and beer branch. We agree to come up with a new name, either for that branch and the wine made here alone, or for the entire enterprise.”
“The beer and mead will be prepared for the rest of the orders you have received thus far, at a twenty-five percent discount. Anyone who agrees will also receive a free case for personal enjoyment. If Lord Camden agrees to a ten percent share of my partnership, we will begin at once,” Felix said.
“I think we’ve got it,” Leonard said with a grin. “This might really be something, Felix.” He stood, stretching his back from the long hours at the table. “But I had better get home to my wife.”
Harriet went to fetch Leonard’s coachman.
“Will you take our new friend with you?” Felix asked, looking down with amusement at the gently snoring Dubois, still cuddling an empty bottle of wine.
“I suppose I had better,” Leonard sighed. “Edwards will know how to return him home.”
They clasped hands, and Felix felt the surge of possibility. “I shall speak with Lord Camden first thing tomorrow.”
“And after, I will have Charles meet us. He has great experience in shipping things from France and is sure to have some valuable insight as well. We could use his help when it comes to bringing in the materials, and the vine shoots themselves.” Cunningham moved toward the door.
“Leonard,” Felix called, and he turned to face him in the flickering firelight. “Thank you.”
“We’re family,” Leonard said. “We help each other. Always.”
And with that, he headed out into the dark, Edwards hoisting a still-sleeping Monsieur Dubois on his shoulder as they went.
* * *
Wednesday morning, Felix had woken with an aching head, dry mouth, and a fierce sense of determination overpowering them both. Throwing off the remnants of last night’s wine with his counterpane, he had ridden directly to Lord Camden’s house.
It was there he secured funding for the startup costs for the vineyard, and mead and beer brewery, provided Lord Camden was given ten percent of the profits.
Felix was over the moon. For the first time in a long time, he felt sure of himself, ready to tackle the word. These past few years he had sunk into a deep despair, wondering how he would ever support himself and his limited household, thoughts of a wife, a family, far from his mind. He had grown resigned to the fact that his family line would end with him, had hoped that maybe baby George would have some of the Andrews’ family characteristics.
But now there was this. He had just arrived at Cunningham Manor, and was being shown to the office, where apparently Leonard and Charles were waiting.
I have never particularly cared for Charles, but he does have the head for wine and business that I do not.
When the door to the office was opened, he saw Charles at the window, smoking a pipe, though Leonard himself was nowhere to be seen.
“Charles,” Felix greeted. “Thanks for coming out to speak with us.”
Charles looked at him coldly over the bowl of his pipe. “Yes,” he said. “I hear you and our mutual friend have quite the plan cooked up.”
Felix hesitated in the doorway, surprised at Charles’s tone. “I don’t know that I would describe it that way, but I do believe we have a good plan,”
he said, attempting for a jovial tone. Felix had never been anyone but himself, however, so even he could hear it ring false in the small room.
“I am quite sure that you think it to be a good plan,” Charles said in a low, sharp voice. “After all, you take plenty of profits with no risk at all. What is the worst that could happen to you? You lose the stable you live in now?” He laughed. “Hardly a loss.”
Felix felt the blood rush to his face. “How dare you—”
“Ah, Felix, you’re here!” Leonard swept into the room, carrying a small canvas close to his chest. “Charles and I were just talking about you.”
“Were you?” Felix asked, a dark suspicion beginning to cloud.
“Absolutely!” Leonard said. “We are both sure that this will be an excellent venture. Charles said so himself, didn’t you, Charles?”
Charles turned gleaming eyes to Felix, and when the false smile spread across his face, Felix could not help but be reminded of a snake.
