Page 18 of His Spirited Lady
“Ourman of business,” Thea said. She rose from the sofa with her daughter in her arms and approached Richard. “Carys has been watching you all evening. Would you like to hold her?”
He reached without thinking. While he’d never admit it to anyone but family, he’d enjoyed holding Simon for years. Carys had the same warmth, the same reassuring weight, and the same trusting look in her eyes. As though she could look past the outer trappings and know what was in his heart. Her toothless grin and hearty kick were apparently signs of approval.
“I believe she likes you,Oncle,” Thea said. She met Richard’s surprise with a smile. “Oliver loves you like a brother, and I have never had one of my own. Plus…” She looked to Simon, who was now yawning in Oliver’s lap as he listened to a quiet story.
“It’s easier,” Richard surmised. Though he didn’t mind the convenience, especially not when Carys loved the same rowdy bouncing that her brother had at her age.
Rather than returning to Oliver, Thea sat on the ottoman in front of the fire, heedless of his boots. “Just as it was easier, and necessary, for everyone to believe Drake owned The Goat. They still do.”
“But all I really do is what she tells me,” Drake rumbled. His smirk was the same brotherly one Richard had given Julia years ago.
Thea pushed his feet from the ottoman. “Because I’m always right.”
Drake returned his feet to their spot, his smile widening. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Across the room, Oliver barked a laugh as he stood, his sleeping son in his arms. “I’m going to carry Simon up so he doesn’t witness this brawl.”
Richard refocused on Drake, who was still content by the fire. “So you pay him a salary?”
“He earns it,” Thea stated flatly. “I wouldn’t have survived without his aid when I first started, and I wouldn’t have been nearly as successful in the following years.”
“He is also awake and right here,” Drake drawled. His gaze was too sharp for a man who’d been almost asleep a moment ago.
“Do you manage other businesses?” Richard asked.
Drake nodded. “I have clients here and in London.”
“Like Hamish and the freight depot?” An idea was forming in Richard’s brain. If Oliver trusted this man…
Drake shook his head. “Hamish and I are partners in the depot, though I currently own the controlling interest. He has the brawn and local knowledge.”
“And you have the money and the contacts?”
“I have colleagues in imports and shipping.”
Richard was vaguely aware of Thea moving from between them, of her taking Carys from his arms, and of the door clicking closed behind her. Across from him, Fletcher’s eyes had sharpened. The whiskey glass was no longer in his hands.
“How can I help you, Mr. Ferrand?”
They were alone. If Fletcher could help a woman own an inn and a farmer start a freight depot, perhaps he could save a winery.
“I have inherited a winery near the French coast.” He kept talking to keep Fletcher from the usual congratulations that followed the statement. “My uncle died without heirs, and I was the nearest that could be found.”
“Is it productive?”
Richard sipped his whiskey before he shrugged. “There are grapes to pick, and the casks are full. The staff there seems knowledgeable and capable of harvesting it and preparing it. The problem is distribution. My uncle was…fond of his own product.”
“I see.”
“His bills were left unpaid, and distributors refused to do business with him because of it. The staff confessed to me that they have been doing without in order to save this year’s harvest, but next year’s will be in jeopardy.”
“So you have wine to sell?”
“I have casks that risk turning to vinegar.” Not even his uncle could consume that much. They’d have to resort to bathing in it. “Which is a shame, because it’s a decent product.”
“I’m assuming bydecentyou mean it isn’t comparable to other French wines?” Fletcher asked. When Richard nodded, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So you need someone to get it out of France to a new market and a distributor in that new market?”
“Yes.” It was a relief to confess it to someone. Starting the mill in Quebec had not been as nerve-wracking as inheriting a sinking ship with staff still on board.
