“You appear well-informed on economics, Lord Saybrook.”
“I’ve been doing some reading on the subject lately.” He slanted a quick glance at Arianna before asking, “Samuel Gurney joined Richardson, Overend and Company in 1807, did he not? And controls the firm, which is now known as Overend, Gurney and Company?”
“Yes,” replied Ashmun. “The Gurneys are a well-known Quaker family, with powerful connections in banking circles.”
Gurney. The name explained yet another bit of Kellton’s disjointed rant.
But then Arianna reminded herself that for the moment it was only speculation.
“Theory is all very well, but let us get back to your story, Lord Ashmun,” she prodded. However horrible, she needed to know the details. “I think we had better hear the rest of it.”
“Very well,” agreed Ashmun. “I received a letter from your father hinting that he had the promise of riches—and a return to England. It seemed to me that the only possibility was a new venture with his former partners.”
She couldn’t hold back an exasperated oath. “Bloody hell, you would think he had learned his lesson.”
The baron’s eyes flooded with sympathy. “He wanted so desperately to bring you home to England, my dear.”
Yet another unrealistic dream. Genius could be a blessing or a curse.
“I sent him a long reply, trying to point out just such a thing,” went on Ashmun. “However, the more I thought about it, the more I worried that he was desperate enough to do something that he would regret.” A short exhale, hardly more than a chuff of air, emphasized the last word. “His missive made mention that a meeting to finalize the deal was set for sometime in the beginning of November. As I had some family estate affairs to settle in Jamaica myself, I decided to move up my trip in order to arrive in the West Indies before that date. I thought that I might be able to talk some sense into your father. As you know, we did meet. . . .” The baron shook his head. “In the past, he had always been willing to listen to reason.”
“He had been drinking heavily for some years,” said Arianna.
“I suppose that explains his error of judgment.” Another mournful sigh. “As I suspected, his so-called friends wanted him to construct a mathematical model for manipulating bills of exchange. And Richard, being sure that they needed him, sought to drive a hard bargain. He wanted a higher share of the profits than his erstwhile partners were willing to offer. I think he considered it his due for the years in exile.”
“You were there during the negotiations.” It was more statement than question. “That is when I saw you.”
“I was,” corroborated the baron. “And I told him he was making a grave mistake. Not only did he ignore my advice, but as the talks were breaking down, he threatened to expose their scheme if they didn’t agree to his demands. You see, this time, being as yet uninvolved, he had no reason to remain quiet. He was sure they couldn’t afford to say no.”
“What they couldn’t afford was the chance of betrayal,” observed Saybrook. “No matter how great his mathematical skills, he had broken a sacred rule among criminals—never grass on your cohorts.”
How strange. She hadn’t touched a drop of her drink, and yet Arianna felt that her head was swimming.
“Lady Arianna . . . Lady Arianna . . .”
With an effort, she shook off the sensation.
“May I get you some sherry?” asked Ashmun in some alarm.
“N-no, thank you.” She stiffened her spine. “I’m simply . . . fatigued. Dancing and drinking until dawn is not a life to which I am accustomed.”
Saybrook rose. “I think we have all had enough activity for the night.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Taking his cue, the baron levered up out of his chair. “I hope I have not make a mistake in being completely forthright with you, Arianna. I did not mean to cause you pain.”
“It hurt far more not to know,” she said softly.
Or did it? At the moment, Arianna felt totally numb. Her limbs must have moved by rote rather than command, for she found herself on her feet.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady Arianna. I will see Ashmun out,” said Saybrook, signaling her to stay by the hearth. “And then check that the back of the house is locked up.”
“Before I go . . .” The baron hesitated. “I have answered all your questions, but I have a great many of my own.”
Her silence only made him more determined. “I fear that you are in some sort of trouble, Arianna,” he persisted. “Why else would you be hiding your identity? Why else would you be seeking the company of your father’s erstwhile friends? At least now, I hope you understand that they are not men who would offer you any aid.”
Coals crackled, emitting a hiss of smoke.
“Whatever coil you are in, I would like to help—”
“If you wish to be of service to Lady Arianna,” interrupted Saybrook, “you will distance yourself from her, in order not to raise questions about why an old friend of Lord Morse is so interested in a young widow newly arrived in Town.”
“That is all you will tell me?”
“Yes,” answered the earl bluntly.
“Lord Saybrook is right, sir,” she added. “However well-meaning, your attentions could be harmful.”
“Then I shall, of course, do as you ask. No matter that I don’t understand.” Ashmun gave a courtly bow. “But please know that if anything changes, and you need my assistance, you have only to let me know.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’ve failed you so miserably in the past.” He blew out his cheeks. “If only I had been more persuasive.”
If only, if only, if only.
“If only Papa had been more responsible,” she countered. “However, weeping over what happened won’t change anything.”
“A wise philosophy, Lady Arianna,” said the earl. “One should look to make the future free from the ghosts of the past.”
Close to a quarter hour passed before Saybrook returned. “The locks are all secured. Is there anything else I can do for you before I take my leave?”
Arianna nodded abstractly, not really listening to what he was saying.
“Lady Arianna.”
She looked up from her contemplation of the glowing embers. The candles on the sideboard had burned down low, leaving the room shrouded in shadows.
“Will you be all right on your own here tonight?” he asked, the gentleness of his voice rousing her from her stupor.
“Are you offering to come upstairs and keep me company, Lord Saybrook?” she said mockingly, hating herself for feeling so vulnerable.
The momentary change in his expression was too swift, too subtle to interpret. Or maybe she had merely imagined it. Her powers of observation were clearly not as sharp as she had thought.
“I was not under the impression that my company would be of any comfort,” he replied slowly.
“I’m not looking for comfort,” she retorted. “A distraction, perhaps. Nothing more.”
“Ah. Well, I’ve enough distractions to suit me. So I think I shall decline any additional ones.” A pause. “Assuming that was what you offered.”
The rejection, however oblique, left her feeling even more fragile. Her whole life felt as if it had been built on a house of cards. Gaudy bits of pasteboard, colored with illusions and lies.
And a breath of air had just knocked it to flinders, leaving her with nothing to cling to.
I have myself. And yet, somehow that didn’t seem like enough anymore.
But unwilling to expose how lost she was feeling, Arianna curled a cynical smile. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with a slut. Bad blood clearly runs in my family, so you are right not to want to taint your exalted person.”
His laugh held no mirth. “There are few in Society who don’t consider me a mongrel because of my breeding. For me to denigrate you or your forebearers would be like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Then why won’t you come to my bed?” blurted out Arianna. “Do you find me unattractive? Undesirable?”