Page 136 of Ironvine

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Five days later,in the parlour of Wolfsgate, Georgina found the Duchess on her own taking in the view from the leaded glass windows.

“Your Grace, how delightful to see you again.”

The Duchess held out her hand to her. “Georgina, how good it is to see you.”

“I was sorry to hear that you will be leaving us shortly for I very much enjoy our friendship, and I long for it to continue. I think often on your last visit and I—”

“No, no.” The Duchess took her hands in hers. “Be assured, I am glad that we cleared the questions between us that day.”

“As am I. I have something for you.” Georgina handed her a leather pouch. Inside was the gift she’d prepared for her. “Please accept this token of my sincerity and regard for our friendship.”

The Duchess opened the pouch and pulled out a large locket. She clicked it open, and a sound escaped her lips.

“I took the liberty of painting a miniature of that portrait study for you as a gift of goodwill. I wanted you to have that most recent image of him as amemento mori.” Georgina’s voice had sunk into a whisper. “I thought perhaps you would take pleasure in it or rather take comfort in this keepsake, for you mourn him alone.”

The Duchess did not reply. She only fingered the lock of bright blond hair Georgina had curled into the other side of the locket. Georgina moved closer to her. “It is his, his as a boy. I found it recently in a collection my mother-in-law had kept of her sons.”

Her Grace’s gaze was glued to the locket. So schooled in controlling all her emotions, reactions, and responses always, she did not speak, did not betray any feeling.

“Have I done wrong? Please, I—”

The Duchess’s hand firmly gripped Georgina’s arm, her watery gaze meeting hers. “What a blessing you are to me, Countess,” she breathed. “I thank you.” Her Grace embraced her.

* * *

Over dinner,the conversation flowed easily, and once the jellies and syllabubs had been enjoyed, the topic drifted to business investments. A sure sign for the ladies that they would quit the dining room shortly.

“The future is investment outside of England,” said the Duke.

“Spices, sugar, saltpetre, that sort of thing?” said Charles.

“There’s so much more than that, because it’s not only about doing trade unique to those regions, it’s about owning it out there in India, in China. The possibilities are truly endless and the returns are…significant.”

Brandon fingered the edge of his dessert dish. “When I was a boy, my father had invested in a sugar plantation in Jamaica along with a number of other investors.”

The Duke raised his glass. “Ah, wise choice. Excellent.”

“It’s a sound business.”

“Have you been to the island?” Her Grace asked.

“I did go, yes. And I must admit, that is when the seeds of doubt were planted in my soul. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it, felt it. We didn’t simply own a tract of land and shares in a plantation and its product, a product we then sold and made a grand profit from. That business doesn’t only own land and sugar, it owns people.”

“You are referring to the slaves?” said the Duke.

“I know it is not a popular opinion, especially as Bristol is at the centre of that industry, yet I do not feel it is right to own a person for my own use, and ultimately, for my own advantage. All the sugar cane planted and harvested, all that sweet profit is made on the backs of these piteous humans who’ve been ripped from their homelands and brought to the islands as prisoners with nothing offered them but squalor and suffering.

“I shall never forget the sight of a newly arrived slave ship at port unloading its cargo for sale. Cargo…” Brandon let out a ragged breath as he shoved his dish out of his way, his forehead creasing, his eyes narrowing, the memory still fresh. “It is a wretched, sinister business. It is wrong, and I cannot abide it.”

“There was a slave uprising on the island of Haiti recently, was there not?” asked the Duke.

“Your Grace is well informed, yes. The sugar trade has been all but wiped out there, and many of those plantation owners have moved on to the neighbouring island of Cuba.”

“They haven’t abandoned hope, eh?” asked Charles.

“Would be foolish to do so,” said the Duke. “Sugar is in extreme demand, a golden asset worldwide. Many islands in the Caribbean now boast a high number of plantations, don’t they, Graven?”

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