Page 50 of Dare to Love a Duke
“As well you should,” the Duke of Brookhurst said heartily. “The late duke never faltered in his support of traditional values. Which was why when I approached him to be an investor in the Midlands Canal Company, he eschewed the idea. Didn’t think it quite seemly for a duke to pursue such modern methods for enriching his coffers.”
Tom said nothing, only grimly helped himself to some of the chicken and parsnips. The other men also served themselves and began to eat.
“But you,” the duke continued, “are a man of youth and vitality. A man who both preserves ancient traditions whilst also looking forward to the future.”
“Canalsarethe future,” Pratchett added, leaning forward. “They ensure that Britain will retain economic supremacy over all other nations.” He looked at Tom excitedly, but his expression fell when Tom only gazed at him with disinterest.
“After yesterday’s vote,” the Duke of Brookhurst said, “it became clear to me that not only are you a worthy successor to your father’s admirable ambitions, but you can move our country toward even further global dominance. You know,” he continued after taking a bite of pheasant, “many gentlemen of our acquaintance have begged for an introduction to Mr. Pratchett and Mr. Dillard, andyouare the only man of our circle that I deemed worthy of the opportunity.”
Lucky me. “Is that so?” Tom said warily.
The duke nodded. “Mr. Pratchett and Mr. Dillard are currently in an expansion phase, and are in search of men with exceptional initiative to invest in their enterprise.”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “They want money.”
“We don’t speak of such impolite things,” Dillard said quickly. “Not to gentlemen of your rank, of course. All such matters are to be handled by your men of business, and it is they who will negotiate terms.”
“However,” Pratchett continued, “you should be made aware of the fact that everyone who has lent their fiscal support to the Midlands Canal Company has seen their profitsquadrupled.”
Tom paused in the middle of raising his glass to his lips. “Quadrupled.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.” Pratchett beamed and Dillard did the same as Brookhurst looked on with a smug smile. “That is no exaggeration. In exchange for your faith in us—and your capital, naturally—you will see yourself amply rewarded.”
“You see, Your Grace,” the duke said with an indulgent look, “I would not extend such an opportunity to anyone but my closest allies, which you have clearly proven to be.”
Slowly, Tom lowered his glass as his thoughts sped. The duchy’s coffers were ample, but to increase an initial investment fourfold... that wasn’t inconsiderable. It was damned tempting. He could funnel a portion of the profits into Maeve’s marriage settlement. The rest could go into charitable organizations badly in need of funding, such as Blakemere’s programs for veterans. Tom would direct a hefty chunk toward Lucia’s home for girls—anonymously, of course. He could use the profits as a means to make amends for the choice he had been forced to make.
But the price—aligning himself even more tightly with the Duke of Brookhurst—and with a business that was most likely predatory in its practices... He felt the bulwark of his principles shudder from Brookhurst’s cannonade. Could he do it?
He gazed at the watchful faces surrounding the dining table, all of them awaiting his answer.
“The matter needs further consideration,” he finally said.
“Yes, Your Grace. Of course.” But Dillard shot an uncertain glance in the duke’s direction.
“This stage of our latest development requires a commitment within a week,” Pratchett added.
“I wouldn’t drag my heels on this, Your Grace,” the Duke of Brookhurst said, a note of caution in his voice. “Such an opportunity is rarely made available, and it would be a pity if you were to lose out on this prospect due to inaction.”
“I will think on it,” Tom said through his teeth. He pushed his plate away, appetite gone. “I find myself overtired. Do excuse me.” He rose, and the other men followed suit. He nodded at the canal men, who bowed deeply. “Gentlemen. Good night.”
“I’ll escort you out,” the duke announced, and to Tom’s dismay, strode with him toward the front door. As they walked, he clasped Tom’s shoulder. “Appreciate you coming tonight, Your Grace. I spoke in earnest when I said you were worthy of this opportunity. I think it could do great good for your family. Forbothour families.”
“Indeed,” Tom said, fighting to keep weariness from his tone.
The Duke of Brookhurst nodded. “It will be a fine thing, won’t it, when my Hugh and your Lady Maeve can make their betrothal official? The union will be an excellent one. Advantageous to everybody.”
“They seem quite in love,” Tom said. Gratitude surged in him when he espied the front door. So close to freedom—however illusory.
“Ah, yes. Love.” The duke smiled indulgently. “The young must have their fantasies.”
Tom stopped abruptly. “You don’t believe they’re in love?”
“I believe they believe themselves to be. However,” he made a dismissive gesture, “we must have our eye on more practical matters. Namely, the union of your family with mine, and the consolidation of power in our hands. Yours and mine. It’s precisely what your father would have desired.”
And what of whatIdesire?
An image of Lucia rose up in his mind—not in bed, but in the room where she tutored the impoverished girls of London. Determination and pride lit her face, and resounded within him like a melody. She had such strength, such unwavering resolve. He needed both.
