Kathryn Caskie (23 page)

Sliding back her chair, Eliza rose from the desk with a strangled whimper. Her course was clear.

On the morrow, at the Hamilton musicale, she would release Magnus from their arrangement after supplying him with the name of the debutante most suited to his financial, intellectual, and
physical
needs. Eliza swallowed the bitter taste of jealousy seething within her.

Her hands trembled as she folded the sheet and glanced down at the small square of foolscap in her hand. She was doing the right thing. What had to be done, for the good of her family … and Magnus.

If only it didn’t hurt so much.

The next morning, though the sun had taken its mount in the sky only an hour earlier, Lloyd’s Coffee House was abuzz with activity, the large wooden box-seats were already filled with merchants, bankers, and underwriters conducting the risky business of insuring ships and their cargoes.

Magnus had just entered the coffeehouse, determined to learn the status of
The Promise
when, all at once, the din of voices quieted. All eyes seemed to focus on a young man who’d entered the expansive chamber from the private Subscribers’ room. Both gentlemen of wealth and of lesser means parted to let the man through.

“It’s the Secretary to the Committee,” Magnus heard one man whisper to another. “Heard this morn that Bennett was to post the new reports about the ships in the western lanes.”

The Secretary tacked several long sheets to the wall, then turned and disappeared into the Subscribers’ sanctum once more.

Immediately the crowd cinched around the postings. Shaky fingers ran down the lists of lost ships and scattered cries of anguish erupted from the crowd.

Magnus hesitantly made his way through the group of investors. Leaning over the squat gentleman in front of him, he ran two fingers down one list, then another. And another. Nothing.

He pored over the intelligence posting from agents in the West Indies. Again, nothing. Not one mention of
The Promise.
With a growl, he tore the last list from the wall and swept the carefully penned column with his gaze.

A senior waiter, who’d obviously observed his frustration, stepped forward and carefully wrested the posting from him. “Might I be of some assistance, sir?”

Magnus glanced up at the young man, but found his mouth dry and wordless.

“You can check the Arrival and Losses Book for more information,” the waiter told him, gesturing to a large green vellum volume perched on a wide podium. “If the ship’s insured against any sort of loss, it will be listed there. And what ship isn’t these days, eh?”

Dropping a few shillings into the waiter’s ready hand, Magnus silently moved to the podium. There he stood for more than an hour, devouring its pages for any sign of his ship. Still, there was nothing. Not a single mention of
The Promise.

He beckoned the young waiter. “Is there any other place a ship might be listed?”

“No, sir. Everything is recorded in
The Book”
The waiter tapped a finger on the thick volume. “The ship, my lord, she
was
insured?”

“Of course—” he started, but then the young man’s question slapped Magnus coldly, halting any further utterance.

Was it possible Lambeth had lied about the voyage being underwritten? Forged the documents? Magnus felt the blood drain from his face. He gripped the podium, steadying himself.
Nay, it canna be.

“Are you well, sir? Can I find you a chair or some brandy, perhaps?”

A mingling of anger and a sense of betrayal welled up inside Magnus. With a trembling hand, he dug inside his pocket and withdrew a guinea for the waiter. Then, he tugged at his coat sleeves and dragged himself to the staircase.

He would go straight to the Import Docks. He had to find Lambeth. Had to know for sure.

But in his heart he already knew the terrible truth of it.

The Promise,
awash in the largest storm of the year, had not been insured.

Seething with anger and the pain of his friend’s betrayal, Magnus slammed open Lambeth’s dockside office door.

Lambeth’s head whipped round and he leapt to his feet. “Good God, Somerton!”

As their eyes met and the full brunt of Magnus’s fury registered with Lambeth, the ruddy color of his face faded to lime white.

“What brings you here so early?” Lambeth stammered. He leaned casually against his desk, though his fingers twitched.

“I think ye know the answer to that,” Magnus growled, shoving a ladderback chair aside. “I’ve spent the morning at Lloyd’s going through
The Book,
reading the intelligence reports.”

“Have you now?”

“Dinna dally with me.
The Promise,
was she insured?”

Lambeth lowered his head.

“Answer me!”

“She was. When I sold you the shares
she was.”

Magnus moved toward the desk. “What do ye mean? Either the ship and her cargo are insured, or not.”

Lambeth closed his lids for a moment, then lifted them and looked into Magnus’s eyes. “Four underwriters insured her for the voyage. Four. But when later they learned who my father was, they cancelled the insurance.”

“You told me your father was innocent.”

“What did you expect me to say? That my da was guilty as the day is long?” He paused then and let his gaze trail across his desk. “He did it. He sank his own ship, and her worthless cargo, to collect from Lloyd’s. He made a fraudulent claim. Though they could never prove it, they knew.
They knew.”

Dumb with shock, Magnus stared at Lambeth for some moments before finding words. “Why didna ye admit it to Dunsford and me? We might have used our influence to change the underwriters’ minds,” he managed at last.

Lambeth looked into Magnus’s eyes. His voice grew thin. “I had hoped that a group of underwriters in Edinburgh could insure her. But Lloyd’s intelligence web is too tight. All the underwriters knew about my father.” He collapsed into his chair.

Magnus exhaled until his lungs burned from lack of air. He returned to the door and closed it behind him, using the time the small task afforded to calm himself. He leaned back against the door, casting his gaze through the small window to a ship settled in the basin beyond. “And
The Promise?”

“There’s been no word from any of the ports. No sightings of her by any of the captains. She’s missing, Somerton.” Lambeth drew a bottle of brandy from his desk, along with two glasses, which he filled with luminous amber liquid. He held a glass out to Magnus.

Magnus drained the glass, then took the other glass and drank that too. Lambeth filled the glasses again and stared back at him, as if waiting for a response.

Magnus shoved his hands through his hair. “We’re ruined.”

“Nothing is for certain, Somerton.”

Magnus sighed. “And the sun mightn’t rise in the morn either.”

“Listen, I haven’t told Dunsford yet. Please, don’t inform him about the insurance. Not yet. I know I can salvage our situation. I just need some time … a few days at most,” Lambeth pleaded. “After all, there is no evidence that she is lost yet. I can come up with something. I know I can.”

Magnus looked up at Lambeth and shook his head. He came to his feet, snatched the bottle of brandy from him, and opened the door.

“Please, just a little more time,” Lambeth begged, as Magnus turned and walked through the warehouse to the docks.

Magnus wandered down the wharf and slowly climbed into his waiting hackney cab.
He was ruined.

“Where can I take ye, guv’nor?” the driver called out.

Without thinking, he responded. “Seventeen Hanover Square.”

He had to see Eliza.

Rule Fourteen

Do not dwell in desolate ground.

Eliza pressed her palm against the cool rippled glass and gazed at the sky above. Low ashen clouds blanketed the city, heavy with droplets primed to fall at the slightest provocation. In all her life, she never could abide a morn so dreary, but today it befitted her mood.

Her hand slid from the glass and wearily she settled herself in the chair beside the smoldering coal fire, lifting the delicate china teacup to her lips.

Her eyelids were throbbing and sore, no doubt swollen, after a night spent agonizing over what she must do this eve—say good-bye to Magnus forever. How would she bear it? Not only must she see him and Caroline together, but be the instrument of their engagement. Mrs. Peacock would be most pleased. At last the selfish hag would have everything she wanted: a title for her merchant-class family.

But Magnus would have to endure both Caroline
and
her horrid mother.
Dreadful.
Eliza was beginning to feel sorrier for Magnus than for herself.

“Miss Merriweather?”

Eliza glanced up, quite startled to see the butler standing before her. “Oh, Edgar. I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“You have a visitor, miss.”

Eliza waved the idea away. “Please tell whoever it is I am not—”

Magnus stepped into the library and dropped back his head against the door. He was pale, his face drawn, and his body drooped as though it took his every effort to stand.

“Magnus!” Eliza sprung from her chair and rushed to him. “Are you ill? What happened?” Taking his arm, she led him to the sofa and bade him sit.

“Edgar, some strong tea. Quickly please.”

Magnus lifted his head and looked into Eliza’s eyes. The despair she saw in them seized her heart.

“What happened? Tell me.”

He shook his head from side to side then allowed his chin to drop to his chest. “I’m all right. Really.”

Eliza sniffed the air. The scent of alcohol was plain. “You’ve been drinking this morn.”

He nodded. “My ship.
Missing.
Wasna insured.”

“What? Please, explain from the beginning.”

Magnus flung his head back against the headrest, covering his face with his palms.
“The Promise.
She wasna insured,” he said, letting his hands slide from his cheeks to slap atop his thighs. “I’ve lost everything.
Everything.”

“No insurance at all? How can that be?”

Magnus swallowed deeply and explained about Lambeth’s father and the loss of the underwriters’ confidence. “So there ye have it. Nearly every coin I had left sailed with
The Promise.”

Eliza sat with her hands folded primly in her lap. It pained her to restrain her feelings, when all she wanted to do was hold Magnus to her breast, kiss him and comfort him.

"When will the creditors call the loan?” she hesitantly asked, not truly sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“At the end of the season.”

“Is there naught you can do to delay payment?”

“Tried that.” Magnus shook his head slowly. “Nay, I will lose everything … in less than a month.”

“What about your town house, here, in London? Surely they cannot cast you out.” Her words were tinged with the alarm she felt.

“Aye, they can. When the time comes, the town house will be sold. ‘Twill
all
be sold. All I’ll have left is the wee cottage on Skye that me mother left me. Everything else … will be gone.”

Eliza swallowed hard. There was a frightening finality about his words. An acceptance.

Slowly, she rose and moved toward the highly polished desk in the corner of the room. Sucking her lips into her mouth, Eliza forced a reluctant hand to slide open the small, right-hand drawer. She reached inside and tentatively withdrew the square of foolscap she’d prepared the night before.

When at last she turned and started toward him, her legs felt inordinately heavy, as though they were shackled in weighty irons. Oh, that she did not have to do this. Not now, when Magnus was broken, at his lowest.

She lifted the paper to Magnus. “Take this,” she said, her words dripping from her lips in not more than a whisper.

Magnus looked up at her, utterly confused. He bent the foolscap from its folds then read the single name inscribed upon it. “Caroline Peacock?”

“Our arrangement,” she answered softly. “I have investigated the season’s debutantes—as you requested.”

“I dinna understand.”

“She
is the one. The one you must marry. The one who can save you from ruin.”

Magnus rose. “But Eliza—”

Eliza lifted her chin, willing herself the courage to stand firm. “She possesses everything you desire in a wife. She is intelligent, beautiful, charming, and poised—”

Magnus was upon her in an instant. He grasped her shoulders and forced Eliza to look at him. “But she isn’t
Eliza Merriweather.”

“Miss Peacock is also quite rich. Something I am not. You must marry her before it is too late to save Somerton.”

“How can ye say this after last eve? I thought—”

“What?” She raised her chin in false nonchalance.

“Why, that ye loved me.”

How she wanted to cry. Here Magnus stood before her, baring his soul to her. But she could not back down now. Summoning every ounce of strength within her, Eliza shook her head, driving an icy blade of lies into his heart.

Stunned, Magnus let his hands fall away from her shoulders.

Eliza turned away. She couldn’t bear to look at the shock and pain in his eyes any longer. She was breaking his heart, along with her own.

Magnus moved behind her and hugged her back against him. “I love ye, Eliza. And I know ye love me.”

Her anguish peaked, and Eliza grappled for her last shred of control. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and savored the warmth of him, knowing all the while it was wrong.

She drew in a deep breath.

“No. You are quite mistaken.” She turned within his arms until she faced him. “Yes, I am attracted to you. I do not deny that that much is true. But love?” She shook her head, unable to deny her heart aloud.

Magnus released her. “I dinna believe ye.”

“No? Do you need proof?” Eliza whirled and returned to the desk. Fumbling in its drawers she withdrew her billet of passage and thrust it into his hand. “Go ahead. Look at it.”

Magnus turned the document over in his hands. “Passage to
Italy.”
He looked up at her, disbelief plain on his face.