experience of the act,” she said. “Perhaps the Times could mention it in their society pages.”
He placed his fists on the desk and leaned forward, his nostrils flaring.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, dear brother.”
For a moment, they stared at each other. Then he sat, resignation in his eyes. Had she believed him capable of emotions, she would have thrown her arms around him and begged him to understand.
“All right, you’ve made your point,” he said. “I can issue an offer to Molineux. As to the terms, I’d suggest a term of no more than two years and a yield of no less than twenty percent, which is an acceptable rate given the level of risk.”
“Five years and fifteen percent,” she said. “I believe those are appropriate terms for enterprises of moderate to high risk. And it goes without saying that I remain anonymous.”
He sighed. “Very well. If Molineux accepts the offer, I’ll ask my lawyer to prepare the documents.”
“Thank you.”
She stood, and he followed suit and offered his hand. She took it, and the ghost of a smile played across his lips.
“Careful, Dex,” she said, “or I might believe you have a heart.”
“Then you’d be wrong,” he replied. “But for the sake of the man who professes to have given his heart to you, I would ask that you tell him what you have done before you marry.”
“What I do with Sir Thomas is none of your business,” she said. “Just as what you do with your women is none of mine.”
His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you courting someone?” she asked. “You must be very proud of her if you’re keeping her a secret from your own family.”
“I don’t court,” he said. “I claim.”
“So it’s true,” she said. “You’ve been feathering a nest in the country for a particular bird. Have you bagged her yet?”
His smile disappeared, and he withdrew his hand.
“You have, haven’t you!” she cried. “When are we to wish you joy? We could have a double wedding to save on the expense.”
“It’s time you left,” he said through gritted teeth. “Forgive me for not showing you out.”
Evidently, she’d struck a nerve.
He remained standing while she left, but any trace of warmth in his expression had disappeared.
Perhaps marriage to Sir Thomas was not the worst fate to befall a woman. She found herself pitying the woman unfortunate enough to secure Dexter’s hand in marriage.
Chapter Thirty-One
Fraser shook his head in disbelief. “Simpkins, is this some kind of joke?”
“Of course not, Your Grace,” the lawyer replied. “The document is legal and perfectly clear. An unsecured loan of twenty thousand at a competitive rate of interest for a period of five years, or an earlier date as the debtor sees fit.”
“And the creditor?”
“Wishes to remain anonymous, according to Mr. Hart,” the lawyer replied.
“Doesn’t he wish to be thanked?”
“In my experience, investors prefer a dividend to a hearty thank you, Your Grace. One cannot live off the latter.”
Only one person could have made such a generous offer. Harold Pelham was the only man of Fraser’s acquaintance—and his only friend—with access to such funds. Affable as the man was, he wouldn’t have made a decision driven by sentiment. He stood to gain if Fraser’s business succeeded, for who would Fraser turn to in order to distribute his whisky?
Nevertheless, the terms were generous, and it was the best offer Fraser could hope for. And Pelham’s request for anonymity had removed that degree of awkwardness, which would have prevented him from accepting.
When the time came, he could swallow his pride and thank his friend in person.
He stood and shook the lawyer’s hand. “Write to Hart directly and tell him I accept. Now, please excuse me. I have much to do.”
He ushered the lawyer out, then headed for the distillery.
He found Hamish in the main building chatting to Rose, the young woman who’d arrived from London yesterday with her son, Will, and baby daughter. He found himself eager to hear an English accent again. Though his heart belonged to Glendarron, he missed London.
Five months had passed since he left, but his mind still wandered there, during those periods of silence when his thoughts were subject to the influence of his heart. And now he had reason to return. His business prospects reignited, he could restore Clayton House and rebuild the aviary. He could furnish Mrs. Forbes with enough supplies to feed and clothe every starving mouth in her shelters.
He would do it to prove himself worthy.
Worthy of her.
“Hamish!” he hailed. “I have good news!”
Hamish