Page 72 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
"He is," Christopher confirmed, his normally cheerful countenance grave. "More than you can ever imagine.”
"Then we require a plan," Abigail insisted, her initial shock giving way to practical determination. "A strategy."
Jameson gestured toward the drawing room. "We should continue this conversation away from potential... listeners," he said, his gaze flicking meaningfully toward the servants' entrance.
As they moved into the drawing room, Gemma felt a curious calm settling over her. The initial terror of seeing William taken had been replaced by something cooler, more focused. There would be time for fear later, for processing the enormity of what they faced. For now, there was only the next step, the plan, the path forward.
Jameson closed the drawing room door firmly behind them, then moved to check the connecting doors to the music room and study, ensuring they were securely shut. As he did so, Abigail caught Christopher's eye.
"How long have you known?" Abigail asked quietly. "About Thorne's scheming?"
Christopher ran a hand through his fair hair, a gesture of uncharacteristic agitation. "Suspected? Months. Known with certainty? Only weeks."
"And you didn't think to warn us?" Abigail asked, her voice tight with hurt. "To prepare us for the possibility of danger?"
"We believed we had more time," Jameson replied, returning to the group. "Thorne has been methodical, and extremely careful. This—taking William so openly—it's a deviation from his pattern."
"He's accelerating his timeline," Christopher added grimly. "Which means we've struck a nerve somehow."
Gemma sank onto the nearest settee, her mind racing. "Earlier, you mentioned that William was his 'latest' leverage. Who else has he used?"
Jameson and Christopher exchanged another of those knowing glances.
"Lord Pembroke's son," Christopher said finally. "Young Marcus."
"The boy who supposedly eloped with that Italian opera singer?" Abigail gasped. "That was Thorne's doing?"
Jameson nodded. "Marcus had gambling debts. Thorne bought them, offered to forgive them in exchange for information about his father's investments. When Marcus refused..."
"He was disgraced," Gemma finished, the implications settling like lead in her stomach. "His family cut him off rather than weather the scandal."
"And Lord Pembroke withdrew his investments from Hawthorne the following week," Christopher added. "A significant blow to our liquidity, just when we were negotiating new shipping contracts."
Gemma looked up at Jameson, understanding dawning. "That's why you’re always so occupied. Not because you were avoiding me, but because you were trying to save the company."
A look of guilt crossed his features. "I should have trusted you sooner. But after Caroline, after how thoroughly I was deceived..." He shook his head, as if to dispel the memory. "I've found trust... difficult."
The vulnerability in his admission struck Gemma deeply. She thought of their kiss the night before, of the walls that had begun to crumble between them. How much courage had it taken for him to open himself even that small amount?
"What precisely is Thorne's aim?" she asked, forcing her thoughts back to the immediate crisis. "To destroy the company? To ruin you personally?"
"Both," Jameson said grimly. "Hawthorne Trading represents not just financial success but political influence. We have contracts with the government, connections throughout Europe. If Thorne can seize control—or destroy it and build something new from its ashes—he gains far more than mere wealth."
"And William?" Gemma pressed, her voice catching. "What use is he to Thorne now? If he's already shared whatever information he had..."
The room fell silent. Christopher looked away, unable to meet her gaze. It was Jameson who finally answered, his voice gentle but unflinching.
"A warning to others who might oppose him. And leverage against me... through you."
The implication was clear: William was bait in a trap meant for Jameson himself. A trap that had now been sprung.
"Tell us about this soirée," Abigail said, breaking the heavy silence. "If we're to attend, we need to understand exactly what we're walking into."
Jameson moved to the sideboard and poured a measure of brandy, despite the early hour. "Thorne hosts these gatherings quarterly. Ostensibly, they're simply social events. An opportunity for the ton to mingle, for young ladies to be introduced, for business to be conducted in an informal setting."
"But they serve another purpose," Christopher continued, accepting the glass Jameson offered him. "They're demonstrations of power. Thorne carefully curates his guest list to include both his allies and his... projects."
"Projects?" Abigail echoed.
