The Last Heiress by Mary Ellis Page A

trust it’s not cooking or scrubbing pots.”
    â€œHelene helps me dress for the day or evening, fixes my hair, and tends to my wardrobe. She’s also a skilled seamstress and sews any clothes not ordered from abroad.”
    â€œRandolph Henthorne is the most prestigious factor in North Carolina. So your job is little more than mending family fences with your brother-in-law. To be restored to the family’s good graces, Jackson merely has to make sure cotton finds its way to England. You can sip tea on your sister’s verandah while Jackson and his father take care of the details.”
    She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    Nate wished the pine floor would open and swallow him whole. “Forgive me, Miss Dunn. That’s the problem when two classes of people attempt to find common ground. Covetous envy rears its head, exposing me for the shallow, jealous man I am.”
    â€œYou’re not shallow, Mr. Cooper. And unfortunately envy is a natural human emotion whether one is rich or poor. But that’s not why I took exception to your conclusion. I intend to stand on my own two feet as my father’s emissary. True, my brother-in-law would prefer to take control and do all of the work, but I won’t allow it. My father had faith in me or he wouldn’t have sent me. I hope to repay his confidence by restoring Dunn Mills to its former productivity, and that entails conducting business with other factors besides Henthorne and Sons. I yearn for a challenging career, as unlikely as that sounds. My mother has spent her entire life a pampered woman. She controls nothing in her future. That responsibility has been left in my hands.”
    He refilled their glasses from the jar of cider. “Let’s drink to good fortune in your endeavors, but I’m curious about something else you said.”
    Amanda clicked his glass and drank deeply. “What else intrigued you about my life story?”
    â€œYou said that everyone falls prey to jealousy and envy. In yourcase I find that hard to believe. And I say that with full respect and admiration.”
    Her sunny expression vanished. “You would be surprised what things a rich little girl falls asleep praying for.”

    â€œWhere to, Master Henthorne? Your office or the club?”
    â€œNeither, Thomas. Take me to the docks. It’s high time I learned the state of affairs in Wilmington.”
    During the short ride downtown, Jackson mulled over how much his father’s languor had cost the company. If their financial future was to be salvaged, swift and decisive measures must be taken.
    â€œAnywhere in particular along the waterfront, sir?” Thomas braked hard on the steep decline to river level.
    â€œI’m not sure. Park the rig anywhere on Water Street and I’ll walk.”
    Once Thomas tied up the horse in the shade, he handed Jackson his walking stick. “I’d better come with you, Master Henthorne. A rough sort hangs by the docks, not quality folk like you’re used to.”
    â€œNo, stay with the horse and carriage. I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I won’t hide behind my slave from a pack of hooligans.” Nevertheless, Jackson tucked a silver pistol into his belt under his frock coat.
    He had heard about the influx of foreigners since the start of the war. Sailors on the blockade runner Kate had carried in yellow fever two summers ago with their coffee and spices, and three hundred souls went to an early grave before the disease had run its course. But seeing the strange assortment of people huddled in alleys, loitering in the doorways of seedy taverns, or accompanied by painted women gave Jackson an entirely different perspective.He had lived as sheltered a life as Abigail, who read sonnets and sipped tea behind garden walls.
    But the site catching and holding his attention wasn’t the dock dwellers. Several large steam vessels were tied up alongside the regular bevy