Page 40 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
"A previous engagement," Jameson replied smoothly, though his eyes did not quite meet hers. "Gentlemen's business at my club. I fear it cannot be avoided."
"I see," Gemma said, fighting to keep disappointment from her voice. "Of course. I would not wish to interfere with your established routines."
Jameson hesitated, something flickering across his features too quickly for her to identify. "I shall not be late," he said, almost as though making a promise. "Perhaps... perhaps we might continue our discussion of Wordsworth tomorrow? I have some thoughts on his later works that might interest you."
The unexpected offer sent a warm current through Gemma's veins. "I should like that very much."
With a brief nod to his mother and a formal kiss pressed to Gemma's gloved hand, Jameson departed, leaving the ladies to their dessert and Gemma to her increasingly bewildering thoughts regarding her new husband.
Gentleman's business indeed, she mused, watching his tall figure retreat from the room.I wonder if such "business" involves cards, brandy, and the sort of company that would make even the broadest-minded matron blush... or something else entirely.
As Belinda signaled for the servants to bring in the final course, Gemma found herself torn between the proper response of unquestioning acceptance and a growing determination to understand the complex man she had wedded—including whatever secrets he might be keeping behind those guarded green eyes.
***
The exclusive offices of Hawthorne Trading Company were situated in a discreet building near the docks, far from the fashionable areas of London where society gathered. Within a private chamber on the upper floor, Jameson sat across from Edward Hawthorne, the grizzled merchant whose shrewd business acumen had built one of London's most successful trading enterprises. Between them lay scattered documents, shipping manifests, and carefully coded ledger entries.
Christopher Hartley lounged nearby, his elegant evening attire incongruous against the practical furnishings of the room. A glass of amber liquid dangled from his long fingers as he listened to Edward's grim assessment.
"Three shipments diverted in the past month alone," the older man was saying, his finger stabbing at a particular entry. "Always just enough to cause delays and expenses, never enough to completely cripple the operation."
"Death by a thousand cuts," Jameson murmured, his mind racing through possibilities and countermeasures. "Thorne is too clever for outright sabotage. He prefers the slow poison."
"Precisely," Edward agreed, his weathered face grave. "And now I've received word that he's acquiring interests in several of our smaller competitors. Consolidating forces against us."
Christopher swirled his drink contemplatively. "The question remains: why? Certainly, business rivalries exist, but this vendetta seems... personal."
"Because it is," Edward replied heavily. "Thorne has nursed a grudge against me for twenty years, since the East India Company contract that established Hawthorne Trading as a serious competitor. He believes I stole the opportunity from him through underhanded means."
"Did you?" Christopher asked bluntly.
Edward's eyes flashed. "I outmaneuvered him fairly. My terms were better, my ships faster, my reputation stronger. That he cannot accept defeat gracefully speaks to his character, not mine."
Jameson nodded slowly, his fingers tapping a thoughtful rhythm against the polished table. "And now he seeks to destroy what you've built, piece by methodical piece."
"With increasing success," Edward admitted grimly. "Which is why I've asked you both here tonight. As my principal investors and the only members of the ton involved in the company's management, you have access to social circles I cannot penetrate. We need information—what Thorne is planning, who his allies are, which shipping routes he intends to target next."
Jameson frowned, memories of his afternoon spent reviewing discrepancies in their accounts swimming through his mind. Though he had cultivated a reputation for dissolute idleness, the truth was far different—his mathematical acumen and strategic thinking had helped grow Hawthorne Trading's profits considerably over the past five years.
But as he contemplated Edward's request unbidden thoughts assailed him. The disappointment in Gemma’s eyes when he'd cancelled their ride. The way she'd looked in the library, sunlight catching the honey-gold strands in her hair as she'd stretched for that damnable book of poetry...
"Jameson?" Christopher's voice cut through his reverie. "Your thoughts appear to have wandered to more pleasant territories than shipping manifestos."
Heat crept up Jameson's neck as he forced his attention back to the matter at hand. "Merely considering the implications," he said smoothly. "The Season is in full swing. Christopher and I will have ample opportunity to gather intelligence at upcoming events."
"Starting with the Hartington ball," Christopher supplied. "Half the merchants in London trade gossip there as freely as the ladies exchange fashion advice."
"Capital!" Edward nodded approvingly. "I've prepared a list of particular individuals who might have useful information. Approach with caution, gentlemen. Thorne has eyes and ears everywhere."
As Edward continued outlining potential sources and strategies, Jameson found his thoughts straying once again to Gemma. What would she make of his double life? The notorious rake who secretly spent his evenings poring over ledgers and shipping reports rather than pursuing more carnal entertainments? Would she be relieved? Disappointed? Intrigued?
The weight of his carefully guarded heart pressed against his ribs, the distance he had maintained from others since Caroline's betrayal suddenly feeling less like protection and more like a prison of his own making.
"If we could return to the matter at hand," Edward said dryly, clearly noting Jameson's distraction. "The Java shipmentdeparts next week. We must ensure it reaches its destination without interference."
With effort, Jameson refocused on the documents before him, forcing thoughts of intelligent hazel eyes and challenging words about truth to the recesses of his mind. "Yes, of course. I suggest we change the route here, and perhaps arrange for additional security at this juncture..."
As the meeting continued late into the evening, the men developed contingency plans and protective measures, their voices occasionally rising in debate or falling to conspiratorial whispers. When they finally concluded their business, Christopher drew Jameson aside as Edward gathered the scattered documents.
