Page 2 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“We’re rolled up,” he muttered. Then, he issued a short, sarcastic bark of laughter. “I’mrolled up … ruined. Damn it all to hell.”
Bullock didn’t reply, simply giving him a look that portrayed the deepest of sympathies. No wonder the man had been reluctant to tell him the truth about how dire his straits were.
He now felt as if he’d been thrown into the depths of the ocean with no notion of how to swim. He was university educated, but had never actually worked for a living, since Norton & Rivers had pulled in enough capital to support the entire family. Or, at least, it hadseemedto support them. Only after he’d grown old enough to truly pay attention did he realize that his family merely displayed an illusion of wealth outwardly, while in truth they’d been drowning in debt, suffocating under the weight of his father’s mismanagement for decades. He’d tried to offer his father assistance, and had even begged the man to make him his partner once Rivers had left, but Edwards’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Aside from being a terrible businessman, his father had suffered from tender pride and a stubbornness that would put a mule to shame. He’d insisted he had things well in hand, and had refused Edward’s help.
For a scant few seconds, Edward wrestled with an intense loathing for his father. His jaw clenched until it ached, and his body practically hummed with the force of his anger at the man who had died a few short weeks ago, leaving Edward to clean up the mess he’d made of all their lives.
But then, he remembered all the good things about his father that had always seemed to overshadow his flaws. His tolerance for Caroline’s choosiness when it came to the selection of a husband. His patience with Jacob, whose lack of direction had worried their mother to no end. He’d been the best father three children could ask for in all the ways that counted, and Edward supposed he could be forgiven for failing at managing his money and his business.
As Edward stood to shake the solicitor’s hand, his mind already raced through a number of solutions to a problem he feared he might never solve. However, each idea was tossed aside as he realized they all required the one thing he did not have at the moment: a large influx of funds.
Several hours later,Edward sat across from an old friend in a coffee house in Covent Garden. He could hardly afford the expense of indulging in the curry and rice steaming before him, but neither could he afford to continue paying the woman who cooked his meals at home. So, it hardly mattered, did it?
He’d developed a fondness for Indian cuisine while visiting the home of a friend from university. The man’s father had been an officer of the East India Company, who’d returned to England with a cook from Calcutta. During his time with his friend’s family, Edward had experienced various curries and channa masala, finding he enjoyed the robust flavors.
It was to curry he turned now, finding comfort in the dish as he stared morosely at the man sitting across from him. The Honourable Mr. Hugh Radcliffe had befriended him at university, and the two often found themselves in one another’s company. As a gentleman lacking a title or any familial connection to thebeau monde, Edward had very few friends of the peerage. But, Hugh often reminded Edward that he could hardly be consideredtonany longer—not after being disowned for pursuing a career as a portraitist. He’d been cast out of his family, his financial situation as dire as Edward’s—perhaps even more so.
“I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m supposed to do,” he muttered between bites of curry with a shake of his head. “The old man left nothing, not even a business that could be salvaged to create some sort of living for our family. It seems wiser to burn it all down to ashes as opposed to trying to raise it from the dead.”
Hugh gave him a sympathetic look while reaching for a flat disk of naan bread. “Could you just sell it to someone looking for a project—some enterprising gentleman with deep pockets who could transform the business into a steady stream of income?”
Edward scoffed. “He’d be purchasing a mountain of debt on top of a defunct fleet of ships. Said gentleman would also have to be completely mutton-headed.”
“You make a good point. Perhaps a money lender of some kind?”
“One who will charge me interest I can’t afford, and extract my teeth one by one when I’m unable to pay him back? No, thank you.”
Hugh chewed, seeming to mull over his words before he spoke. He looked as if he were on the verge of disclosing some scandalous revelation, and despite his morose situation, Edward found his curiosity piqued.
“I think … I might know of a way you could earn a large sum of money in a matter of months. But, I cannot tell you what it is. Not yet.”
Edward scowled, taking a closer look at his friend. He hadn’t seen Hugh in months, and ought to have noticed the changes. His friend’s outmoded, ill-fitting clothing had been replaced with perfectly tailored togs, most of which looked brand spanking new. He flaunted a fresh haircut, and had even gained back the weight he’d lost when lean months had seen him taking meager meals. Hugh was a new man, and it would seem this mysterious source of money had been responsible for the change.
A dart of hope arrowed through him and Edward leaned forward. “Why can’t you tell me what it is?”
Hugh glanced about as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “The person who runs this…agency…he has the final say when it comes to who can be invited to join us. But, the money is good. Better than the allowance I was once entitled to from my father. It might not solve all your problems but it could be enough to pay some of the creditors, perhaps get your ships up and running again.”
Edward’s spine snapped straight, excitement flooding him in a rush. Working ships would attract crews to sail them, which might, in turn, earn back their clients along with a few new ones. Maybe there would be enough to rent a warehouse. If he could start generating some sort of income, things wouldn’t have to be so grave. His family name needn’t continue to be synonymous with bad business, not if he could prove that Norton & Rivers was making strides under new management. Caroline and Jacob could have a secure future.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he said. “Tell your associate I’ll meet any requirements he might have.”
Hugh held a hand up to silence him and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “The agency is kept secret for a reason. The work we do is the sort that could cause a scandal unlike anything London has ever seen if we’re exposed. You have to understand … those of us who founded it were desperate. We needed the money and, like you, had no other recourse. It’s been a year since we began, and now I’m flush enough to support myself until I can have my work displayed in the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition.”
Now Edward really must know just what Hugh had done to earn himself that sort of blunt. The man had stood weeks away from being evicted from his suite of bachelor’s rooms the last time they’d spoken. Now, he was about Town dressed in the height of fashion and looking as well-fed as ever.
“I’m not concerned with the scandalous nature of this business,” he vowed. “I want in, Hugh. Whatever it takes.”
Hugh nodded. “Fine, meet me at Number 8 Clarges Street at noon tomorrow. My associate will be there, and we’ll discuss the particulars.”
Edward found himself once again taken aback. The address Hugh had given him was one far too fashionable for a man in Hugh’s position. That must mean he truly had done well for himself this past year. Whatever he’d been up to, Edward would follow in his footsteps. So long as it wasn’t moonlighting as a highwayman, he saw no reason to balk at whatever unseemly tasks it might entail.
The mystery of it confounded him for the rest of the night, long after he parted ways with Hugh to return home. It robbed Edward of sleep, his mind racing as he pondered all the various schemes he might find himself pulled into. It became a distraction he could not distance his mind from, as was evidenced by his woolgathering over breakfast.
His sister had frowned at him, annoyed that he’d barely heard a word of her complaining over the sparse fare available to them. While Caroline was well aware of the family’s current state of near poverty, years of comfortable if not extravagant living had made her rather spoiled. She wanted something other than chicken for dinner, as it was all there had been for nigh upon a week. Instead of scolding her for her ungratefulness, Edward had simply smiled and told her that she might just have her wish soon enough. If Hugh’s improved circumstances were any indication, he’d be able to replace her worn, patched gowns, which she never ceased reminding him were at least two Seasons out of fashion. She’d expressed curiosity about his new enterprise, but ceased asking questions once he made it clear he wouldn’t discuss it. Caroline seemed pacified with the knowledge that Edward did not intend to simply sit back while their circumstances grew worse.
He’d left her to attend his meeting, a spring in his step as he took the long walk to Clarges Street. He could have paid for a hackney coach, but preferred to save his limited funds after his splurge on dinner last evening.
A footman greeted him at the front door of Hugh’s townhome, which sat amid a row of elegant residences. So, not only could his old friend now afford new lodgings in a fashionable part of town, he also had servants in his employ. Edward’s curiosity had reached its peak by the time he was ushered into a drawing room, where Hugh awaited him along with another man Edward had never met before.
