Page 96 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“No, I expect he knew full well.” Georgiana’s eyes flashed. “You know my maid Nadine?”
“Yes.” He remembered her, a dark-skinned young woman. He’d been grateful to her for riding with the driver when they left Osbourne House.
“Her grandparents were slaves on a sugarcane plantation in Antigua owned by Alistair’s grandfather—his mother’s father. The plantation was part of her dowry, and had been in her family for decades. It—it included over three hundred slaves from Africa. My father sold the property after she died, and my mother urged him to free all the slaves held there. My mother’s father was a Methodist and an abolitionist, and she persuaded my father that it was immoral. I don’t remember any of this,” she added. “I was an infant. But Nadine and her mother, among many others, came to Wakefield Manor as servants. A number of the freed people were in service there, when I was a child.”
Rob let out his breath silently. God almighty. He ought to have discovered that about Wakefield on his own.
“I told you Alistair hated my mother and me. I’m sure he blamed her for the loss of hisproperty”—she spat out the word—“and I’m sure he saw my dowry as money that should have been his. So you see why I believe Alistair would invest in this—why he would putmyinheritance into it. He would think it was his due.”
“Does he still have freed people employed at Wakefield Manor?” Sophie asked. “How does he treat them?”
Georgiana hesitated. “I’ve barely spent a month there since I was eight years old. Nadine was sent to a neighboring family to be trained under that lady’s maid, and only returned when I left Mrs. Upton’s. I believe that after my father died, Mama pensioned off several of the servants—perhaps to protect them from Alistair.” She bit her lip. “If you’d asked me before, I would have said that was the end of the matter. But it’s not, is it? Even if Papa sold the plantation and freed his slaves, the new owner probably brought in more, purchased from people like Mr. Forester. The servants Mama wasn’t able to pension off or find new situations for were left to Alistair’s mercy. And I well know he has none.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Rob was ashamed of his own rather cavalier approach to his role in this. He’d seen the pamphlet detailing the vicious treatment of both sailors and captives on board slave ships; he knew about theZong, whose captain had cold-bloodedly flung a hundred living captives overboard to drown. He knew slavery was inhumane and barbarous.
But he’d not taken any action until offered an opportunity to be daring, at little inconvenience to himself. His family had never owned West Indies plantations, and the matter had never really touched him. The slave trade was illegal now. Like Georgiana, he’d thought it was settled.
“Your plan is mad, but it might work,” said Georgiana at last. She looked at Rob. “Was Forester by any chance at the table the night you gambled with Charles Winston?”
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Yes.” He still hadn’t told her what he’d done with that deed. “Not that I intended to win his house. He insisted on wagering it.”
At last she laughed. “Of all the strange beginnings!”
Rob couldn’t help grinning ruefully. He knew what she meant. If he’d not been trying to beggar Forester, they wouldn’t have played so high that night, causing Winston to stake his deed, leading to Rob’s impulsive jaunt into Derbyshire and the beating that changed his life. It wasn’t remotely what he’d had in mind, but it was precisely what he’d needed.
“This plan is too uncertain,” Georgiana continued, tapping one finger thoughtfully against her chin. “Even when Forester loses a great deal, he simply finds more investors and carries on.”
Rob mentally totted up the sums he’d taken from Forester. It was a considerable amount—but as Georgiana noted, the man always had time to retrench and was still in business. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “To bankrupt him beyond saving, it must be done in one blow.”
“How many people are involved?”
“Only Heathercote and I. The gentleman urging us on didn’t want it to be widely known, for fear someone would give away the game.”
“Well, that’s up in smoke,” said Georgiana under her breath. “I want to help.”
“As do I,” chimed in the duchess. “If you plan to ruin him at Vega’s, I may be of some assistance.”
Rob felt compelled to protest. “Thank you, Your Grace, but I did not intend to draw you into this.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” she said with a raised brow before turning to Georgiana. “If we succeed, it will also harm Wakefield. He will lose his investment—yourinheritance. Even if you file a suit, if he’s short of funds you may never have a dowry.”
Georgiana’s chin set. “Better that than Alistair use it for a vile purpose.”
The duchess reached out, and Georgiana clasped her hand. For a moment the women exchanged such a look of determination, Rob was startled.
“Very well,” he said, thinking quickly. “If we fill a table with conspirators and entice Forester to play deep, our chances improve. If we all play in concert—”
“And keep him playing long past prudence,” put in the duchess. “You must swindle him without remorse.”
“We can deal a devastating defeat.” He began ticking off fingers. “Heathercote, I, Your Grace...”
“And I,” declared Georgiana.
“Can you play loo?” asked the duchess with a dubious look.
“Of course!”
“Better than you could at Mrs. Upton’s?”
