Page 68 of Counting on a Countess
“Your shop is lovely,” Tamsyn said, turning back to Mr. Jayne.
He smiled broadly. “Make everything in the back, myself and my wife. The finest diamonds from Brazil and gold from the Balkans.” He looked at her attentively as he rested his hands on the back of the case. “Is there something special you’re shopping for today, madam?”
“Today is not for shopping.” She drew in a breath. “Today is for selling.”
A faint frown appeared between Mr. Jayne’s eyebrows. “Are you a dealer of gems?”
She leaned forward and said very quietly, “Not gems, but items that you might find of interest. Continental items—from France, specifically.”
His expression shifted slightly, smoothing out and becoming unreadable. He walked quickly to the door and locked it, then returned to her.
“You wrote me yesterday. You’re the one from Cornwall,” he said briskly. “With the lace and brandy.”
She nodded. “A shipment is on its way now, and looking for buyers. It will be in London before week’s end.”
“Go in the back, Lydia,” Mr. Jayne said to his daughter. At once, the girl obeyed, disappearing behind a heavy door. Turning back to Tamsyn, he continued, his expression slightly distant. “Your letter didn’t indicate your sex. I wasn’t expecting a Cornishwoman. When it comes to moving contraband, I don’t usually work with females.”
Tamsyn straightened. “If you don’t want to do business with me on the basis of my gender, you’ll be losing out on substantial profits—profits I’m happy to take elsewhere.”
She didn’t have a lead on another dealer, but Mr. Jayne didn’t need to know that. Thankfully, Nessa held her tongue.
He appeared unconvinced. “What sort of inventory will I be expecting?”
“Nearly five hundred gallons of brandy. And fifty yards of Chantilly lace. All of it would fetch fine coin here in London.” She pulled the flask from her reticule. “A sample of the brandy.”
Mr. Jayne took a sip, then nodded thoughtfully as he handed the flask back to her. “And when would all this arrive?”
“By the end of the week, no later,” Tamsyn answered. “You’d have time to line up buyers.”
He stroked his chin and was silent. Tamsyn gazed at him with what she hoped was perfect indifference. She’d played this game before and knew the rules.
“People are tired of the War’s deprivations,” she said casually. “They want to indulge and spoil themselves. You’ll have no trouble moving my goods, with a generous profit for you and your family.”
After another pause, he said, “I know half a dozen members of Parliament who’ll want that brandy. Their wives will want the lace.”
Silently, Tamsyn exhaled.
Mr. Jayne looked past her to Nessa. “You. Come to me when the shipment arrives. We’ll make a plan on moving the goods out for sale.”
“Aye, sir,” Nessa answered.
“In the interim,” Tamsyn added, “you’ll find buyers.” She stuck out her hand. “Seal the bargain?”
He glanced down at her outstretched hand, then shook it. “For a woman, you have a good head for this trade.”
Tamsyn bit back a tart reply. Now wasn’t the time for upbraiding him about his bias. Instead, after shaking his hand, she headed toward the door. “Communication from me will turn up shortly.”
“Pleasure doing business with you,” he replied. He stepped forward and unlocked the door.
She gave him a nod, then moved out onto the curb with Nessa following. After giving the street one last look and finding only the usual tradespeople and shoppers and no sign of Kit, Tamsyn walked toward the waiting carriage.
They reached the vehicle without incident, and she allowed the footman to open the carriage door and help her inside. Nessa took the seat opposite her.
“Drive on,” Tamsyn called up to the coachman.
Only when the carriage was in motion did she allow herself to fully relax, sinking back against the padded seat with a loud exhale.
“Nicely accomplished, my dove,” Nessa said brightly. She patted Tamsyn’s knee. “No need to fret. His lordship knows nothing. We’ve got our fence, and there’s naught to do but bide your time. Then...” She rubbed her fingers together.
