Page 33 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Chapter Twenty

T he carriage let Nash off on Lombard Street in front of his father’s bank—Henderson, Markham & Co.

He had less than an hour before he needed to head to Hyde Park with Cecily and the Rothsburgs, but this conversation could not be delayed.

He strode into the building, nodding at the clerk and making his way to his father’s office.

When Nash stepped inside, his father looked up from the ledger on his desk, the worry on his brow replaced with surprise. “Nash. What are you doing here?”

“I must speak with you.”

He glanced at the long-case clock that had been positioned next to his office door as long as Nash could remember, then gestured to the seat across from him. “What is it?”

Nash settled into the chair. “Johnathan has offered me a partnership in his family’s company.”

At that, Father returned his quill to its stand. “I thought you didn’t want to work for Mr. Steele.”

“I don’t want to work for anyone other than myself, but …” He glanced down at his hands.

“Has news come of the ship? ”

Nash blew out a breath. “Johnathan’s sources confirmed the initial reports. There was an Indiaman run aground near the Cape Verde Islands, and it fits the description of the Dawn of India , down to the painted, gilded sun rising on the stern.”

Father went quiet a moment. “Well, I suppose that is why you have maritime insurance.”

“Yes, but it can take over a year for the claim to go through, and even then, apparently only a portion of the original amount is typically issued. But if I agree to be a partner at Steele Shipping, Johnathan has offered to pay outright all our initial investments in cargo and will also take on any losses the insurance will not cover. How can I say no to that? I already feel wretched enough that the investors will miss out on the profits I promised them, but to make them wait a year and then only receive a portion of their money?” Nash shook his head.

“I can’t do that to them. I can’t do that to you and Mother.

You need the money. And frankly, so do I.

Without the inheritance from Aunt Agnes, a substantial amount of what fortune I have left is in the cargo. ”

“What of your ship? Even if Mr. Steele will not take on the cost, you will surely receive some of your initial investment once your claim is processed.”

Nash shook his head, his stomach clenching. “Against Mr. Crauford’s advisement, I did not insure my ship, only the cargo.”

Father’s focus intensified, but he did not reply.

“Without the added cost, the profits would be greater and I could pass on a more significant portion of it to my investors. I reasoned that if I increased their returns, they would be more inclined to invest with me again and tell others of their experience. It was a strategic move to garner shareholders for my shipping company.” Nash leaned forward in his chair, raking his hands through his hair and resting his forehead in his palms. “Clearly, it was a risk I should not have taken. ”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“Honestly, son, I don’t know how to advise you.

You have a hard decision to make based on very few facts.

But I will say”—his gaze met Nash’s with firmness—“that this loss is not your fault. Each investor was aware of the inherent risk that comes from such a venture. So, whatever choice you select, ensure it is one that you can live with the consequences of. You are exceptionally skilled at what you do, which is why Mr. Steele would go through such trouble to gain you as a partner. For what it’s worth, remember that. ”

Nash cleared his throat, resisting the strange rise of emotions at his father’s words. At his father’s confidence in him. As unearned as the trust currently felt, it gave him an anchoring point.

“When are you to inform Mr. Steele of your decision?”

“Tomorrow before five.”

Nash’s father seemed to consider this. “Do you trust him?”

“Johnathan? I do.” Nash paused. “At least he’s not given me cause not to trust him.

I admit I’ve not been inclined to do business with him in the past, but I also haven’t been inclined to do business with any gentlemen besides Mr. Crauford.

I’d assume my misgivings are my not wanting to feel constrained by others’ mandates and decisions. Is there a reason you ask?”

“No. Having not met him, I have no insights into his character. My only hesitation comes at the conflict of interest in him being your only source of information while also being the one who has the most to gain from the situation.”

Nash nodded, having previously realized the dilemma himself. “If there were someone else to ask, I would?—”

Nash’s father lifted a hand, silencing him.

“I know who you could speak with. I should have thought of him earlier, when your ship first went missing. He’s a bit eccentric, mind you, but if anyone would have heard something about a wrecked ship, or know someone who had, it would be him.

He seems to make it his business to have information about everyone and everything. His name is Lord Blackstone.”

Nash’s brows lifted. “Lord Blackstone?”

“Yes. He owns a gentlemen’s club over at the intersection of St. James’s and Mayfair.”

“I know the name.” Nash leaned back in his seat, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Lucian Featherbottom advised me to seek membership at Blackstone’s if I could not get accepted into White’s.”

“Featherbottom?” Father seemed to search his memory. “Was he the boy at Eton who you were regularly in competition with for the top place in your form? The one who your Latin Master supposedly favored?”

Nash released a frustrated breath. “The very same.”

Father gave a slow nod of understanding, and with the way the corners of his mouth twitched with repressed humor, it confirmed Nash’s original assumption—Featherbottom had meant his comment as a slight.

“The membership at Blackstone’s is selected from gentlemen who have been blackballed at other clubs.

Though perhaps Mr. Featherbottom did not realize that. ”

Nash was certain he did. “Having inherited an earldom, Featherbottom is now Lord Harlow.”

“Oh.” His father’s expression lit with understanding. “As in the gentleman pursuing Miss Bradshaw?”

Nash gave a stiff nod. “Previously pursuing, considering our betrothal.”

“Yes, of course. Your betrothal.”

Nash didn’t like the way his father looked at him, as though he were waiting for a confession. He had not time for such things, and thankfully, it was not his confession to make. Nash stood. “Well, I should be on my way.”

His father closed the ledger before him and also stood, walking around the desk to join Nash. “I assume you brought the carriage here?”

“It is outside.”

Placing a hand on Nash’s back, his father guided him toward the door. “I’ll drop you by Blackstone’s on my way home.”

The white, symmetrical building of the club appeared similar to its neighboring buildings, with the exception of its stark black door. A fitting color for Blackstone’s, indeed.

“Are you certain they’ll allow me inside?” Nash glanced at his father, who remained seated in the carriage.

“Tell the porter at the door that you’re hoping for an audience with Lord Blackstone regarding a shipping matter.

I can’t imagine your connection with me will offer much sway, but you are free to mention I suggested you come.

Be sure to compliment his lordship on his animal collection, and you should fare well enough. ”

Nash sent his father a quizzical look. “What do you mean by his animal collection?”

His father only chuckled.

Nash moved to shut the door before pausing. “Oh, I’m to go to Hyde Park with the Rothsburgs and Miss Bradshaw shortly. Their carriage is at the blacksmith’s being repaired, so they may require ours. If you are not opposed, that is?”

“Not at all.” Father pulled out his pocket-watch. “What time are you to meet them?”

“Five.”

“That is ten minutes from now.”

Hang it all. Why did it take so blasted long to get around London? “Perhaps Miss Bradshaw might retrieve the Rothsburgs, then they can fetch me after? ”

“Knowing Lord Blackstone, your meeting will likely go longer than you expect. I would hate for them to wait on you.”

Nash’s thoughts went to Cecily. He had told her he’d be at Hyde Park.

But if he had to give Johnathan an answer by tomorrow, he could not postpone this conversation.

He tapped a quickened beat on his thigh, thinking what to do.

He could always hire a cab and meet his group at Rotten Row if time permitted, though he probably should assume it would not.

Nash’s perceived lack of consideration was likely to irk Cecily, but if he failed to show when she expected him, he would certainly upset her.

“Perhaps it would be best if you relay my apologies.”

“That is probably wise.”

Nash bid his father farewell and stepped up to the somber black door.

He raised his hand to knock but then paused.

The knocker was fashioned as a crow’s head.

Just what he needed—another bird encounter.

Squaring his shoulders, Nash lifted the knocker and brought it back down, causing the crow’s beak to strike the metal plate.

It was but a moment when the door opened by a man dressed all in black.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m Nash Markham. If Lord Blackstone is here, I was hoping I might have a quick word with him.”

“One moment.” The porter moved to a little black book that sat on a stand near the door. “Nash … What was the last name again?”

“Markham. But my name is not on?—”

His finger stopped halfway down the page. “Yes, here it is. Nash Markham. Potential member.”

His name was on the potential member list? That didn’t bode well for him .

The porter gestured for him to come inside. “Wait here, please, while I see if his lordship is available.”