can be compromised.”
“That would be nothing new,” Kieran murmured.
“And you have been in England but four months,” said Mr. Kemble. “Play upon your colonial past. Complain about the King and his taxation policies. Suggest that Barbados should go the way of America. He will not think it odd if you feel little obligation to the Crown.”
Kieran was staring pensively into the distance, and tapping one finger on his desk. “It will not do,” he said, almost to himself. “He can too easily discover that I’ve nothing to do with Neville Shipping. I daresay I could not plot the ports of Europe on a map with a sledgehammer.”
De Vendenheim and Kemble looked at him in bewilderment.
Xanthia sat up stiffly in her chair. “I shall do it,” she said abruptly.
Their gazes turned to her in unison. “I beg your pardon?” said the vicomte. “You shall do what?”
She managed a look of cool competence. “I shall befriend Lord Nash,” she said. “I know rather more of this business than does my brother.”
Kieran nodded. “Regrettably true,” he acknowledged. “I am not at all sure poor Sharpe believes it, but I am just the family farmer. It is Xanthia here who tends our little world of wood and water—and she will do anything to keep her business interests from being threatened.”
Their initial confusion past, the two gentlemen did not look particularly disbelieving. “I see,” said de Vendenheim. “This rather complicates matters.”
“Or perhaps not,” murmured Mr. Kemble. “Indeed, perhaps it simplifies them.”
Kieran was frowning. “I think Xanthia’s getting involved with this Nash character might be unwise,” he said. “Gentlemen, you’d best find another bit of bait for your hook.”
“Oh, come now, Kieran!” Xanthia interjected. “Lord Nash can scarce be more unsavory than the sea dogs and scoundrels I am accustomed to. And I have Mr. Lloyd, our business agent, to help me.” She turned to Mr. Kemble and the vicomte. “Besides, I have already made the gentleman’s acquaintance.”
Kieran lifted one of his dark, haughty eyebrows quite high at that. “Yes, and quite thoroughly, I begin to think,” he murmured. “And you now propose to strike up a deeper acquaintance?”
Xanthia smiled coolly. “He was not altogether indifferent to my charms, Kieran,” she said. “And while Nash hardly strikes me as a traitor, any risk to England’s trade routes—indeed, to our trade routes—cannot be tolerated. Someone must get at the truth of this business, and quickly.”
De Vendenheim was looking both appalled and hopeful. “With all respect, Miss Neville, Lord Nash is not the sort—well, he is not a gentleman with whom one—”
“He is not thought quite nice , Miss Neville,” Mr. Kemble interjected. “And unmarried ladies dare not risk his acquaintance.”
Xanthia looked at him skeptically. “I must have seen a dozen mammas shove their daughters in his direction at Lord Sharpe’s,” she chided. “And I do not think his exchanging a word or two with a confirmed spinster will much discourage them, either. Gentlemen, I suggest you put this matter in my hands. I shan’t risk my neck, my good name, or my business, of that you may be certain.”
“Yes, especially the latter,” said Kieran dryly.
“But Miss Neville,” protested de Vendenheim. “Your reputation—”
“No, my trade routes ,” she interjected.
“He may learn more about you, Zee, than you wish him to know,” warned her brother.
“Lord Nash is hardly the sort of man who gossips,” said Xanthia.
“Yes, and what if Nash turns up at Neville Shipping one day?” grumbled de Vendenheim. “What then? Is your Mr. Lloyd always in?”
“No, he is often in the warehouses, or on the docks,” Xanthia admitted. “It is his job to oversee and account for the movement of freight. But we’ve a counting house full of clerks below.”
Lord de Vendenheim looked at Kieran, who smiled faintly. “She is
“That would be nothing new,” Kieran murmured.
“And you have been in England but four months,” said Mr. Kemble. “Play upon your colonial past. Complain about the King and his taxation policies. Suggest that Barbados should go the way of America. He will not think it odd if you feel little obligation to the Crown.”
Kieran was staring pensively into the distance, and tapping one finger on his desk. “It will not do,” he said, almost to himself. “He can too easily discover that I’ve nothing to do with Neville Shipping. I daresay I could not plot the ports of Europe on a map with a sledgehammer.”
De Vendenheim and Kemble looked at him in bewilderment.
Xanthia sat up stiffly in her chair. “I shall do it,” she said abruptly.
Their gazes turned to her in unison. “I beg your pardon?” said the vicomte. “You shall do what?”
She managed a look of cool competence. “I shall befriend Lord Nash,” she said. “I know rather more of this business than does my brother.”
Kieran nodded. “Regrettably true,” he acknowledged. “I am not at all sure poor Sharpe believes it, but I am just the family farmer. It is Xanthia here who tends our little world of wood and water—and she will do anything to keep her business interests from being threatened.”
Their initial confusion past, the two gentlemen did not look particularly disbelieving. “I see,” said de Vendenheim. “This rather complicates matters.”
“Or perhaps not,” murmured Mr. Kemble. “Indeed, perhaps it simplifies them.”
Kieran was frowning. “I think Xanthia’s getting involved with this Nash character might be unwise,” he said. “Gentlemen, you’d best find another bit of bait for your hook.”
“Oh, come now, Kieran!” Xanthia interjected. “Lord Nash can scarce be more unsavory than the sea dogs and scoundrels I am accustomed to. And I have Mr. Lloyd, our business agent, to help me.” She turned to Mr. Kemble and the vicomte. “Besides, I have already made the gentleman’s acquaintance.”
Kieran lifted one of his dark, haughty eyebrows quite high at that. “Yes, and quite thoroughly, I begin to think,” he murmured. “And you now propose to strike up a deeper acquaintance?”
Xanthia smiled coolly. “He was not altogether indifferent to my charms, Kieran,” she said. “And while Nash hardly strikes me as a traitor, any risk to England’s trade routes—indeed, to our trade routes—cannot be tolerated. Someone must get at the truth of this business, and quickly.”
De Vendenheim was looking both appalled and hopeful. “With all respect, Miss Neville, Lord Nash is not the sort—well, he is not a gentleman with whom one—”
“He is not thought quite nice , Miss Neville,” Mr. Kemble interjected. “And unmarried ladies dare not risk his acquaintance.”
Xanthia looked at him skeptically. “I must have seen a dozen mammas shove their daughters in his direction at Lord Sharpe’s,” she chided. “And I do not think his exchanging a word or two with a confirmed spinster will much discourage them, either. Gentlemen, I suggest you put this matter in my hands. I shan’t risk my neck, my good name, or my business, of that you may be certain.”
“Yes, especially the latter,” said Kieran dryly.
“But Miss Neville,” protested de Vendenheim. “Your reputation—”
“No, my trade routes ,” she interjected.
“He may learn more about you, Zee, than you wish him to know,” warned her brother.
“Lord Nash is hardly the sort of man who gossips,” said Xanthia.
“Yes, and what if Nash turns up at Neville Shipping one day?” grumbled de Vendenheim. “What then? Is your Mr. Lloyd always in?”
“No, he is often in the warehouses, or on the docks,” Xanthia admitted. “It is his job to oversee and account for the movement of freight. But we’ve a counting house full of clerks below.”
Lord de Vendenheim looked at Kieran, who smiled faintly. “She is
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