What the Hart Wants - Fiona Davenport Page 0,51
letter of the law to ruin a rival.
But perhaps he could be forgiven. Despite his wealth, Hart was still shunned by most of the ton. Only few exceptions, such as Earl Stiles, saw fit to recognize the Harts in public as acceptable acquaintances.
And Fraser himself, of course. However, Hart was not a man to soften his approach to a business deal on account of an acquaintance.
Or a friendship.
In all likelihood, Hart lacked friends. Any friendship with him would exist purely for the benefit of Dexter Hart. And Fraser doubted whether such a man was in need of anyone.
A pity. Fraser found himself respecting the man, even if he couldn’t bring himself to actually like him.
Hart set the papers aside. “Your projected profit figures seem impressive,” he said.
“So, you’ll agree to a loan?” Fraser asked.
Hart shook his head. “Unfortunately, your financial position stands on a knife-edge.”
“I’m experiencing a temporary dip in cashflow until the orders come in,” Fraser said. “The term of the loan need not be longer than a year. Two, at most.”
“No banker of sound mind would lend you a farthing without collateral.”
“I have my London property.”
“Which is already mortgaged.” Hart rolled his eyes. “Even a man of the meanest intelligence would understand that I’d be a fool to lend you funds on a property to which your other creditors have a prior claim.”
“The loan on the house is less than the value of the house itself.”
“That’s immaterial,” Hart said. “The value of a house which you’re forced to sell to avoid bankruptcy is substantially less than it would be had you no intention of selling.”
“Bankruptcy is a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“One of your creditors might agree with you in isolation,” Hart said, “but I must consider your debts as a whole.” He picked up a piece of paper. “This one, for instance, attracts interest of thirty percent, which falls due next month. How do you intend to service it? Have you persuaded the trustees of the Molineux estate to release funds? There’s an entailed property in Hertfordshire, is there not?”
“Yes, Molineux Manor,” Fraser said. “How do you know that?”
“I make it my business, Your Grace, to understand the full extent of the risk,” Hart said, crisply. “Are you in a position to sell Molineux Manor?”
Fraser shook his head. “The trustees would rather see it crumble into ruin than suffer the indignity of being sold at auction. I can’t even sell the silverware inside it. Once the previous duke’s debts were cleared, there was no cash left—only the two properties, Molineux Manor and Clayton House.”
“And you saw fit to sink your own funds into renovating Clayton House,” Hart said.
“Clayton House is not entailed, so I can do what I want with it.”
“You should have sold it when you had the chance,” Hart said. “A mortgaged property is just one more fixed cost for you to service.”
Hart leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Much as I’d like to invest, the risk is too great. I cannot see how you’ll service the debts you already have, let alone further debt.”
He raised his eyebrows as if expecting Fraser to challenge. But the arrogance in his air told Fraser that his mind was made up. A man like Hart was impervious to persuasion, and Fraser wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him grovel.
“I can service the debts from my business,” he said. “I’ve received sufficient orders for whisky to cover the interest for the next two years, at which point we’ll be in a position to deliver and can repay the loans in full.”
“And if you aren’t?” Hart asked. “What if something happens to halt production? Or if you encounter unforeseen expenses?”
“Then my creditors will enjoy their thirty percent for a little longer,” Fraser said.
Hart narrowed his eyes. “I’m still not convinced the population of London will buy the stuff. Personally, I prefer brandy.”
“A banker will always have a lower appetite for risk than a businessman,” Fraser said.
“Not at all,” Hart replied. “I’m merely more capable of weighing the risks against the potential for return.”
“And you believe the potential return from my business isn’t worth the risk?”
“Not when there’s a very real chance of that return manifesting itself as a total loss of one’s investment.”
A total loss?
Had Fraser suspected Hart to be in possession of emotions, he might have taken his words as an insult and slammed his fist into his jaw to wipe that arrogant sneer off his face. But as