Page 1 of Tempting the Bluestocking
Prologue
London, 1818
The clamor and cloying stench of the London docks faded into obscurity as Edward Norton crossed the threshold of Norton & Rivers Line. The dimly lit interior and cold hearth struck him as being particularly depressing, seizing him with the urge to duck back out into the chilly morning. He could hail a hackney and be on his way to his lodgings in a matter of minutes. But, the sign above the door proclaimed for all the world that this place was now his responsibility. Besides, he had avoided his duty long enough. The remains of what had once been his father’s business weren’t going to fix themselves, nor would the piles of his debts be paid if he went on pretending they didn’t exist. He had danced on the edge of avoidance long enough, and as the eldest of his siblings it fell to him to set matters right. Of course, he had no notion of how he might do that, but he’d made up his mind that these affairs needed handling. After all, if he didn’t mend this no one else would.
His brother, Jacob, was just barely out of university and hardly knew his right foot from his left, let alone anything that might prove useful in bringing a failing shipping company back from the brink of devastation. As for Edward’s sister; she was the typical unwed gentry chit, her head filled with whatever nonsense a girl is taught when it comes to the pursuit of a husband. Their fates rested upon his shoulders as heavily as his own.
Doffing his hat, he searched the large front room of the establishment. Two imposing desks faced each other from opposite sides of the room, one of them strewn with documents and ledgers in a jumble that made his left eye twitch. The other was startlingly bare by contrast, a fine layer of dust coating its surface, while cobwebs stretched between the slats of the wooden chair behind it. The abandoned desk confronted Edward with a reminder that this wouldn’t rest solely on him had his father not chased away a perfectly good business partner. As it stood, the ‘Rivers’ half of Norton & Rivers had retired to Paris on the amount his part of the line had been bought for. Which left Edward between the hammer and the anvil at present—with the mistakes of his father beneath him, and his own lack of funds battering him with overwhelming force.
Seated behind the mess-strewn desk was Mr. Jasper Bullock, his father’s former solicitor. Short and reed slender, he reminded Edward of a bird with his sharply pointed nose and close-set eyes. He stood as Edward approached, beady eyes going wide as if with alarm.
Edward knew the unrelenting black he wore did nothing for his coloring, and that lack of sleep had him looking a fright … but, honestly, the man had nothing to fear. It wasn’t as if he’d walked into this office without knowing to expect the worst.
Forcing a grim smile, he offered Bullock a hand. “Good morning. Thank you for taking the time to meet me. I realize you aren’t obligated to help me, but as the man who knows more than anyone else what the state of affairs is here …”
Bullock nodded several times in swift succession, his movements disjointed and jerky. “Yes, yes … it is no trouble. And, as you said, I can give you the clearest picture of what you have inherited.”
Edward wanted to point out that what he’d inherited was akin to having a boulder tied to his ankles before being dropped into the ocean. But, Bullock did not look like the sort of man who would appreciate his brand of wry, self-deprecating humor, so he refrained.
He procured the chair from behind the empty desk, swiping away the cobwebs before carrying it to where Bullock waited. He dropped it beside the one the solicitor had occupied, then sat.
“Shall we begin?”
Bullock cleared his throat and resumed his seat, shuffling several documents before glancing at Edward from the corner of his eye.
“Mr. Norton, I must warn you … well, I knew things were bad, but I could never have realized just how—”
“Bullock,” Edward cut in. “I loved my father dearly, bless his soul, but the man was a horrible businessman. On my desk at home are dozens of bills from my father’s creditors. The sums are so astronomical it is a wonder he wasn’t carted off to debtor’s prison. There is nothing you could tell me about the state of Norton and Rivers that would shock me. So, please get on with it. Tell me everything and speak plainly, so I can get to work fixing this mess.”
Bullock had been staring at him in a stunned sort of stupor, but quickly snapped out of it, clearing his throat yet again. “Very well, I shall speak plainly. In truth, Mr. Norton, without a large influx of capital there is no feasible way to keep the line afloat. As it stands, your father made the worst possible decision by buying out Mr. Rivers’ share. It marked the end of the business’ most profitable years.”
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I warned him not to do it, and even tried to talk Rivers out of selling his share. But, I can hardly blame the man. He and Father were old school friends, but where Rivers had a head for business, my father most certainly did not. The man wanted to cut his losses and get out before he went down right along with Father. It’s no more than I would have done.”
Mr. Bullock grimaced. “Without Rivers here, your father ran the line on his own, and his mismanagement is responsible for its decline. As of now, you’ve only one ship that’s fit enough to make the voyage along its route, and even it is in dire need of repairs. Its crew is sparse as well, many of the seaman having abandoned ship when cargo and profits became scarce.”
Edward drew in a deep breath, a slow pounding beginning in one of his temples. “Norton and Rivers used to have a fleet of ships, a dozen at least. What happened to them?”
Bullock lifted a register from which he read aloud. “One overtaken and commandeered by pirates somewhere along the East Indies route, another sunk with its cargo in a storm off the coast of the Mediterranean. All the others simply cannot be taken to sea without repairs and men willing to crew them.”
Edward didn’t want to ask his next question aloud; he really didn’t. But these were things he needed to know if he had any hope of cleaning up his father’s mess.
“If the records are to be believed, some of these ships haven’t seen a voyage in as long as a year. Why have they gone so long without repairs?”
One would think repairing ships was a priority around here—more vessels coming and going from London with cargo meant more profits, which could eventually mean more ships, better ships, faster ships. But, his father’s mind had never been so linear. The man had thought in circles and ellipses and tangles so convoluted no sane person could follow.
Bullock offered him a stack of familiar-looking documents that had Edward’s heart plummeting. They were receipts for the cost of timber and other supplies, as well for the services of those who repaired and equipped ships for their voyages. Some of them dated back a year or more, which would explain why so many of their vessels had been out of commission for so long.
“So, we owe these suppliers and craftsmen so much money they’ve stopped doing business with us until such time as they are paid?”
“Precisely,” Bullock replied. “As well, there is the matter of the rents on your warehouses. They went unpaid for so long that Norton and Rivers no longer has the capacity to store cargo. So even if your ships could voyage to other ports and return with goods …”
“We’d have no bloody place to put them,” Edward grumbled, suddenly in need of a stiff drink.
“Correct.”
“Would I also be correct to assume that all of this has resulted in the loss of this company’s reputation? I would imagine most of our loyal clients have now turned to a line better fit to meet their needs.”
“Unfortunately, you have the right of it,” Bullock said. “Business has come to a standstill without warehouses, ships, or crews. And without the funds to fix the ships, rent the warehouses, and hire crews …”
