The Wedding Escape (29 page)

“You are thinking only in terms of the present,” Edward countered. “Most of the great shipping lines of this decade began with equally modest origins. In 1815, Brodie McGhee Wilcox started business as a mere ship broker in London. Within thirty years he and his former office boy had formed the Peninsula and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and were sailing to India, Ceylon, Singapore, and Hong Kong at barely half the rates of the great East India Company, which made them the superior choice for government contracts. Anyone can see the remarkable speed with which your company has grown. Until these unfortunate incidents began, you were building an estimable reputation for yourself for providing fast, reliable service at far more competitive rates than the industry average. A number of your contracts had previously been awarded to Great Atlantic, and given their precarious financial situation, they cannot afford to lose any more—particularly since their stock has fallen so dramatically. If you continue to expand and undermine their rates, within a few years you will be a formidable rival for much of the business Great Atlantic now enjoys. They are not so shortsighted that they cannot see that, and their investors are starting to panic. Many have put their entire fortunes into the company in the hopes of salvaging their dwindling wealth. Lord Philmore is widely known to be hopelessly in debt despite his upcoming marriage to some American heiress, while Lord Spalding is—”

“Viscount Philmore is one of the investors?”

“Do you know him?”

Jack's mouth tightened as he thought of Percy cradling his hand on the floor of the Wilkinsons' ball. “We've met.”

“Then you know what an idiot he is.” Edward scowled. “They're all idiots, really. Which is why you have the advantage.”

“How can you be certain Great Atlantic is responsible for the damage to my ships?”

“Take the key from this drawer beside my bed, and unlock the door to that cabinet,” Edward directed. “In it you will find the reports from my investigators who were hired to watch your ships while they were docked in London and Edinburgh during the past few months. It's all in there.”

Jack retrieved the key and opened the cabinet. A quick perusal of the first of four leather-bound books within confirmed that they contained a wealth of information. Page after page of carefully written notes described the status of Jack's ships during their time docked, including arrival and departure times and dates, details concerning the movements of the crew members, itemized lists of the cargo loaded and unloaded, maintenance work performed, and special entries when Jack went aboard. There were also notes detailing any unusual or suspicious activities regarding the ships.

It was obvious the men Lord Hutton had hired to report on Jack's vessels had taken their jobs seriously.

“On the night of the damage to the
Shooting Star
my man reported that three men who were not part of the crew boarded the ship unnoticed at approximately two o'clock in the morning,” Edward told him. “He did not follow them when they disembarked, because it was his job to report on the ship. After that incident I doubled the watch on the ships. That way if there were any further mysterious visitors, one man could track them while the other remained with the ship. That was how we were finally able to make the connection to Great Atlantic. They were careful, but not quite careful enough.”

Anger surged through Jack as he flipped through the second journal.

“On the lower shelf of the cabinet you will find another report that you may also find interesting,” continued Edward. “It details Great Atlantic's extremely tenuous financial situation—which they have gone to great lengths to conceal. I had to pay a rather substantial sum to secure it.” He regarded Jack meaningfully. “I have no doubt you will be able to make good use of the information.”

Intrigued, Jack picked up the dark ledger on the lower shelf and began to scan the pages within. The initial section of the ledger detailed Great Atlantic's fleet and its assets, which at first glance appeared significant. But Jack quickly realized that many of the company's ships were well over twenty years old, which meant they were slower and in constant need of repair. At least a dozen of them were ready to be scrapped, but the company could not afford the cost of replacing them.

“The company has tried to strengthen itself by focusing on luxury passenger services, which has necessitated the acquisition of a series of larger, faster, more elegantly appointed ships,” Edward continued. “Unfortunately, they have done this by mortgaging their assets, becoming dangerously in debt to both national and private banks and to private investors. Last year one of those banks failed, resulting in their loans to Great Atlantic being called. Another is on the brink of failure, which will prove disastrous for Great Atlantic. They are about to take delivery of a magnificent new passenger ship commissioned over two years ago, but they haven't the funds to pay for it. Which creates a unique opportunity for you.”

Jack began to rifle through the pages faster, swiftly analyzing the chaos of Great Atlantic's finances. Lord Hutton was right, he realized. Given the staggering debt the company had amassed, it had no hope of securing the funds needed to pay for its latest ship. It would have to either forfeit its delivery, or sell it immediately.

“Of course it would take time for you to raise the money, assuming you could get the ship for an exceptional price,” Edward mused, watching as Jack flipped through the ledger. “However, if you will permit me to help…”

“I'm not interested in buying their ship,” Jack interrupted, slamming the ledger shut. “I'm going to buy the whole goddamn company.”

Edward stared at him, astonished.

“If your information is correct and that second bank failure is imminent, Great Atlantic will be faced with bankruptcy.” Guarded excitement began to build within him. “If I can secure enough investors, I can negotiate a deal to buy the company at a fraction of its value, merge it with my own, sell off or scrap its money-losing ships, and create a smaller, leaner company that provides fast, secure shipping services at half the standard industry rates. That's what I believe the industry is going to demand over the next two decades,” he continued. “And to ensure they give my offer serious consideration, I'll inform them I have evidence proving they are responsible for the sabotage of my ships. If word of that gets out, not only will they face public censure, but I'll make it my personal crusade to see that every goddamn last one of them faces a criminal investigation. Somehow I doubt board members like Philmore and Spalding have the stomach to risk going to prison.”

Pleasure coursed through Edward, making him feel more exhilarated than he had in months. “If there is anything else I can do for you—perhaps I could be one of your investors—”

Jack shook his head. “This is enough. Thank you.”

Edward tried to conceal his disappointment. It was not enough, and they both knew it. Nothing would ever make amends for the way he had failed his son and Sally Moffat.

“Will I see you again?” Edward tried to sound as if he didn't particularly care one way or the other.

“Somehow I doubt you want people gossiping about how I suddenly started to visit you. I'm sure I created enough of a disturbance by forcing my way in here this evening with a dirk to a man's throat.”

“I don't give a damn about people,” Edward growled. “They can talk all they like. If you would consider visiting me again, I would be honored.”

“We'll see.”

Edward nodded. He understood that he would receive no firmer commitment than that. “Tell me something.” He regarded Jack intently. “Is she really that missing heiress?”

Jack kept his expression neutral. “Who?”

“Don't play games with me. I'm old and sick and I probably won't last the night. I give you my word that your secret is safe with me. Is she Amelia Belford?”

Jack hesitated. He did not know Hutton well enough to trust him. Even if he did, he couldn't be sure that some curious servant wasn't listening with an ear pressed against the door. Yet somehow he could not bring himself to lie to him, either.

“Never mind.” Edward settled back against his pillows and wearily closed his eyes. “Tell my servants not to kill you on your way out, or I'll be most displeased.”

He was being dismissed. Realizing there was nothing more to say, Jack collected the journals Lord Hutton had given to him and moved to the door. He grasped the latch, then paused. “Good night, Lord Hutton.”

Edward nodded curtly, pretending to be too tired to watch as Jack left the room.

Only when he heard the door shut and he was certain that he was alone did he finally open his eyes, releasing the painful fall of tears that had kept him from bidding his son good-bye.

 

A
MELIA SAT UPRIGHT, HER CHEST POUNDING.

She was lying on top of Jack's bed, fully clothed. A soft glow radiated from the oil lamp beside her, thinly illuminating the confines of the chamber. Sadness clutched her in a suffocating grip as her gaze fell upon the pile of trunks stacked in the corner.

The soft click of the front door closing told her that Jack was finally home. A quick glance at the clock on the mantel revealed that it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. The lateness of the hour surprised her. Since Jack had invited her and Alex to stay with him, he had made every effort to come home at a reasonable time each evening. This enabled him to eat dinner with everyone and then spend some time with Alex and Amelia before they retired for the night.

True to his word, Jack had tried to make the little thief Amelia had brought into his home feel welcome and safe. He had even volunteered to help teach Alex her numbers. The poor girl had sullenly endured Amelia's attempts to teach her to script the letters of the alphabet, and her progress was slow. But when it came to her numbers, Jack actually managed to keep Alex amused. He and Oliver would put on loose overcoats, the pockets of which were stuffed with various treasures. Then they would stroll up and down the drawing room, whistling and pretending to be distracted while Alex deftly picked their pockets. At the end Alex had to count the articles she had collected, which were then placed back into the coats' pockets. Then Alex wore the garment while Jack and Oliver worked together to steal the items back, each time asking her how many things she had left as they showed her what they had managed to lift.

Although Amelia was not entirely convinced that a game of pickpocket was the most appropriate way to teach a child the rudiments of addition and subtraction, it was clear that Alex enjoyed the game immensely. There was no question she was mastering her arithmetic skills at a much swifter rate than she was reading and writing.

She was also becoming better at picking pockets, which Oliver seemed to think was wonderful.

Smoothing her hands over her gown Amelia hurried to the door, anxious to speak to Jack before he disappeared into the small bedchamber at the end of the corridor. With Alex occupying the guest room and Amelia still in Jack's chamber, Eunice and Doreen had insisted that another bedroom be prepared so that Jack would stop sleeping on the sofa in the drawing room. A chamber that had previously been used for storage was subsequently cleaned out and a modest bed and wardrobe were purchased. While Amelia felt guilty that she had put Jack out of his handsomely furnished room, Jack assured her that he didn't care in the least about his surroundings.

She peered into the corridor.

“What's wrong?” Jack demanded the moment he saw her.

His gaze was steady and his demeanor serious, suggesting that he had not consumed a drop of alcohol. He stood just inches away from her, his powerful presence filling the shifting shadows around them with heat and strength. Suddenly feeling small and lost, tears welled in her eyes as the façade of calm that she had somehow managed to maintain throughout the day began to crumble.

The silvery fall of Amelia's tears tore into Jack's heart. Forgetting his vow never to touch her again, he opened his arms and pulled her against him, forming a protective shield around her as dread tightened his belly. “Tell me, Amelia.”

“My mother is dying,” she wept, her face buried against his chest. “She's dying, and it's all my fault.”

“How do you know she is dying?” he asked quietly. “And how could it possibly be your fault?”

She reluctantly broke free from his embrace to retrieve the newspaper that lay strewn across the bed. “I was reading the newspaper with Eunice and Doreen, because they like to hear about all the places where I have recently been seen, and even Alex finds it funny now that we've told her who I really am. Suddenly I noticed this headline: ‘
American Railway Magnate's Wife Critically Ill.
'” She lifted the paper closer to the lamp and read: “‘Mrs. John Henry Belford is gravely ill after suffering a heart attack, reputedly caused by the trauma of her only daughter's recent disappearance. A statement released by Mr. John Henry Belford late last night said that while Mrs. Belford's condition is serious, the family remains hopeful that she may survive. Mr. Belford is pleading with the kidnappers of his daughter to demonstrate compassion in light of his wife's illness and release his child, so that she may see her mother for what may be a final time. Miss Amelia Belford was mysteriously abducted from her wedding to the Duke of Whitcliffe in late August, and has yet to be released. Mr. Belford has offered a reward for any information leading to the whereabouts of his daughter, which he recently increased to twenty-five thousand pounds…'”

“You're not thinking of going back to London?” Jack demanded, suddenly noticing the trunks in the corner.

“Of course I am. I'm leaving on the first train tomorrow morning. I only hope I won't be too late.”

“Amelia, listen to me,” he urged, his unease growing. “We don't know anything about your mother's condition except what has been written here, and newspapers are not the most reliable source of information. Just look at all the reports of people who have claimed to have seen you in the past few weeks in every major city from Paris to Cape Town.”