Chapter 1
London
August 1815
Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.
Aphra Behn, English playwright
The Rover, Pt. 2, Act 3
“I'll be gone two weeks or more.”
Marsden Griffith Knighton watched from the head of the
large table as predictable excitement rippled through his
staff. The last time Griff had left Knighton Trading
helmless for so long, he'd established an office in
Calcutta that tripled the firm's profits'and destroyed two
of his competitors.
Even Daniel Brennan, his generally unimpressed man of
affairs, straightened in his chair. Daniel rarely attended
such meetings now that he managed Griff's substantial
private interests, but Griff had a compelling reason to
require his presence today.“Are you leaving Mr. Brennan in
charge as usual, sir?” a young trader asked.
“No. He's going with me.” When Daniel gaped at him, Griff
bit back a smile. Daniel was hard to shock, having been
with Knighton Trading since the days when it gained its
primary revenue from smuggled goods. “Mr. Harrison will be
in charge.”
The senior trader beamed at this evidence of
preference. “So where are you off to now, Mr. Knighton?
France? India?” Greed brightened his eyes. “China perhaps?”
Griff chuckled. “Warwickshire. This isn't a business trip.
I have family there.”
“F-Family?” Harrison stammered.
Griff could guess his thoughts. But he's a bastard. Except
for his poor mother, how could he have any family that
would acknowledge him?
“Yes. Family,” Griff repeated with fierce
satisfaction. “It's a personal matter of some importance.”
He paused,then continued in that firm tone his staff knew
never to question. “One more thing'none of you is to
mention this to anyone, not even my mother. As far as
you're concerned, I have sailed to France or China,
understand?”
A low chorus of reassurances followed.
“Good. You're dismissed. Daniel, I need a word with you.”
His staff left without lingering, for they well knew he
didn't waste time with frivolous chatter. Besides, Griff
thought wryly, they probably couldn't wait to speculate
upon the shocking news that he had “family.” Years ago it
would have angered him, but he'd worn the stigma of
bastardy so long it hardly chafed his skin anymore. What it
chafed was his purse, but he now intended to remedy that.
As soon as the office cleared, Daniel arched one blond
eyebrow and lowered his massive frame onto the expensive
chair before Griff's desk. “A personal matter?”“It really
is personal this time, believe it or not.”
Gone were the days when he and Daniel engaged in whatever
machinations, illegal or no, were necessary to make
Knighton Trading succeed. The future of the company lay in
respectability. And ironically enough, respectability lay
buried in Griff's past.
Griff took his own seat behind the desk. “I've been invited
to visit my distant cousin'the Earl of Swanlea. He's dying,
and his estate, Swan Park, is entailed on me.”
Daniel looked perplexed. “But how could it be entailed on
you if you're'”
“A bastard? I'm not. Not in the legal sense, anyway.”
Daniel scowled, his disappointment evident. Their bastardy
was the one thing they had in common, since they were
opposites in looks, manner, and education. The fair-haired
Daniel had been brought up in the workhouse and then in a
smuggler's gang. Griff, dark-haired and lean, had been
raised and educated as a gentleman.
Griff forced a smile, and added, “Although my legitimacy
isn't yet established.”
“Either you're a bastard or you ain't,” Daniel grumbled.
“Aren't,” Griff corrected. “I'm not a bastard, though I
can't prove it. That's why I accepted Swanlea's invitation.”
Daniel's eyes narrowed. “Isn't Swanlea the chap you had me
investigate? The widower whose three daughters are called
the Swanlea Spinsters?”
“That's him.” Griff handed Daniel a letter over the
desk. “I received this last week, which is what prompted
the investigation. You may find it interesting.”
As Daniel scanned the clumsy script, Griff surveyed his
office. Summer sunlight crept in through high windows that
cost him a fortune in taxes. It danced across marble sills
and an Aubusson carpet before disappearing beneath mahogany
chairs. This was his third office in ten years, each better
situated and more richly furnished. It lay in the heart of
the City near the Bank of England, loudly proclaiming his
success.
Yet it wasn't enough. He wanted Knighton Trading to rival
even the East India Company. Thanks to his distant cousin's
timely offer, it might soon do just that.
Daniel finished the letter and regarded Griff with
surprise. “So if you meet your cousin's terms, you'll be
the next Earl of Swanlea?”
“Yes. He'll give me the proof of my legitimacy that I need
to inherit his title and lands, which I assume is my
parents' missing marriage certificate. In exchange, I'm to
marry one of his daughters so they may remain at Swan Park.”
Daniel's eyes narrowed. “Don't you find it a mite
suspicious that the earl should ‘stumble across the proof
in his family papers' after so many years?”
Griff snorted. “Of course I do.” Indeed, he suspected the
fifth earl of far worse crimes against his family. But only
a fool acted on past resentments. And his purpose
transcended any idle dreams of revenge. “I don't care how
he found the proof'I want it.
Once I establish my legitimacy, I can gain a position on
that trade delegation to China.”
“So you actually intend to marry one of these spinsters?”
“Give in to his blackmail? Never! That's why I need you to
come with me. I intend to get the proof' there. And while
I'm searching Swan Park for it, I want you to distract the
daughters. Entertain them, court them, do whatever you
must. Just keep them out of my way.”
