Page 95 of When the Marquess Was Mine
She brightened. “Sophie! I trust her completely.”
“Let me know the day and time and I’ll be there.” He caught her chin and pressed a quick kiss on her mouth. “I can’t wait to do that without hiding away,” he whispered, his lips lingering on hers.
Her own lips tingled. She smiled at him. “We don’t need to keep it secret...”
“For now, let’s.” He kissed her once more. “Go back to the masquerade. Have your maid send the note via penny post so no one will see her at my house.”
She nodded and slipped out the door after checking the corridor to be certain it was empty. She hurried back to the main rooms, turning over Rob’s words in her mind.
Two days later, Rob approached Ware House from the mews behind it. A servant let him in and ushered him to a drawing room. Georgiana leapt to her feet at his entrance and ran to take his hand. She didn’t throw herself into his arms, but as she smiled up at him, Rob thought she might have taken hold of his heart.
“Come meet Sophie.” She led him to meet her friend, the duchess, a dark-haired woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile.
“We’ve met before,” he said. “I daresay you may not remember, Your Grace—”
She laughed. “At the Vega Club! I do recall.”
Kindly she said no more as they sat down. Rob knew he’d been rather notorious at the Vega Club, especially recently, and felt a prickle of remorse for some of his escapades.
The duchess poured him a cup of tea, and Georgiana moved to the edge of her seat. “What do you know about that company? And why?” she asked directly. “I’ve told Sophie everything I know and I shan’t keep anything from her.”
Rob grinned. “I supposed as much.” He paused, getting his thoughts in line. “Forester and Philips is owned by the Forester family. Until recently the head was Mr. Henry Forester, a wily old devil whose only care was hoarding his fortune. He did excel at it, becoming one of the wealthiest merchants in Liverpool. But there is considerable evidence that he made that fortune in the slave trade.”
“As repugnant as that is, it was perfectly legal until the last decade,” said the duchess. “Ware procured a copy of the act to be certain. The Royal Navy patrols the seas to prevent it now.”
Rob nodded. “Right. But itisillegal now, and Forester is still at it. The Royal Navy can’t stop everyone. Even if they did, the consequences aren’t harsh enough to deter Forester. Some within this government are still staunch supporters of slave trading and do everything they can to defend and protect those who skirt the act.”
Georgiana put down her teacup and saucer with a loud clink. Her face was white.
“Nearly two years ago, Henry Forester died,” Rob went on with the story. “His son Frederick inherited. Freddie’s not like his father. He aspires to be a rakish rogue about town, and is a regular at the Vega Club. But he still owns the company, and they still sail in violation of the Slave Trade Act.
“A gentleman I’d rather not name is determined to put a stop to it. He’s been aware of Forester and Philips for several years now, and has volumes of proof—reports of ships carrying manacles, fully outfitted for carrying human cargo. Captains with multiple flags and sets of papers, choosing which ones to show depending on whose treaty affords them more protection.”
Georgiana’s eyes were tightly closed, and her hands were in fists in her lap.
The duchess glanced at her in concern. “Are you well?” she asked gently.
Her eyes flew open. “Yes. Horrified, but I’m not about to faint, Sophie.” Her friend smiled as she turned to Rob. “Why do you know all this?”
He cleared his throat, realizing how callous he was about to sound but unwilling to lie to her. “The gentleman who wishes to stop this activity has been frustrated in every attempt to hold Forester and Philips to account. He suspects Forester cultivated allies in Parliament—not that some of them don’t support slave trading on their own—and may have offered shares in his company to align their interests with his. So this gentleman resorted to less direct methods in the hopes of stopping Forester. He... ah, he proposed that Lord Heathercote and I draw Mr. Forester into a rather debauched style of living and prod him to ruin at the gaming tables.”
“That’s it?” asked Georgiana after an expectant moment. “That’s the plan?”
Rob shrugged. “Such as it was.”
“Is it working?” The duchess looked doubtful.
“Heathercote claims it is. He says Forester has lost enough that he’s had to recruit more investors.”
“Like Alistair,” said Georgiana softly.
Rob shook his head. “Freddie Forester wasn’t in charge until his father died. If Alistair invested two years ago, it was with Henry Forester.”
“Either way, he’s profiting from slavery.”
“With the funds he stole from me,” murmured Georgiana.
Rob felt compelled to say, “Wakefield may not have known, explicitly, about the slave trading. Many companies don’t speak of it; they engage in other trade and quietly run slaves as well.”
