Page 2 of The Heiress Masquerade (Dollar Princess #2)

London, August 1890

Harrison’s knuckles slammed into the punching bag with the strength and steady rhythm born from daily repetition. Jab, jab, duck, hook, repeat. Over and over, always pushing further and harder every day, each session conditioning his body and making him stronger and sharper for whatever came his way. Which, in his position as the head of the London arm of the Thornton-Jones empire, was a necessity.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

His fist stilled against the bag at the interruption, and Harrison deliberately paused a moment before glancing over his shoulder to his second in charge, Benjamin Hartley.

“Now don’t bite my head off,” Ben said, striding over toward him, an expression of extreme discomfort yet an equal amount of determination in his brown eyes. “I know you don’t like being interrupted during your morning routine, but this couldn’t wait.” He pulled out a folded yellow piece of paper from the brown satchel slung over his shoulder. “You’d have throttled me if I didn’t show you this immediately.”

Harrison raised a brow at his friend’s dramatic prediction but took the telegram from his outstretched hand and quickly read the two short sentences on the paper. Reflexively, his jaw clenched and his chest tightened at the message. “Fuck.”

“Not quite the words I used, but, yes, that,” Ben replied, straightening his black-rimmed spectacles before heaving a lengthy sigh. “What are we going to do? This means the deal is dead in the water, and we’ve wasted months of our time and resources for nothing.” He threw his hands in the air, his despair and restlessness mirroring Harrison’s inner turmoil. “Not to mention the company’s English stocks will take a hit and the share price will plummet once news of this becomes public knowledge. It will be a disaster.”

The outburst from Ben was unusual, given he was normally a pillar of reserve and composure, and so very English that it often irritated Harrison’s American sensibilities. But, in this case, Ben had a right to be upset given the hours they’d spent working on this deal together. A deal that had to go through. Harrison had everything riding on it and there was no way in hell he’d let what he’d worked his lifetime for slip through his fingers because someone had changed their mind.

“It hasn’t been for nothing.” Harrison crunched up the paper in his fist and hurled it against the wall, before he stalked over and grabbed his towel from the hook. “And it’s not the end of anything, not by any means,” he said, wiping his face. He balled up the towel and lobbed it into the washing hamper as he strode to the exit, Ben following closely behind him. “If Franz Wilheimer thinks I’m going to accept this without a bloody fight, he’s a fool.”

“Quite so. But um…you’re not literally going to fight him, are you?” Ben’s voice was laced with concern, his footsteps clipping alongside Harrison’s as they made their way down the hall and through the lobby of the Mayfair Grand Hotel, which was one of the flagship hotels in the Thornton-Jones English portfolio Harrison was in charge of growing.

“What? No pistols at dawn.” They’d worked together for over five years and still Ben thought him a wild American, even though both Harrison’s parents had been English.

“Very funny.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Ben’s voice before a sudden look of concern flashed in his eyes. “You are joking, though, aren’t you? I mean, I’m aware you carry a five-shot revolver on your person—”

“It’s a six-shot, actually.” Harrison nodded briefly to some hotel staff he passed along the way.

“Regardless,” Ben continued, “you do know dueling’s been illegal here for nearly fifty years? Fighting to settle disputes isn’t the done thing in England nowadays, most especially not to settle business disputes.”

“It’s not the done thing in America, either. Unfortunately.” Striding straight past the elevators, Harrison began to climb the marble stairs up to the top floor. Besides never using elevators, he needed to work off some of his frustrations at this latest development, which six flights of stairs would help with, despite Ben’s mumbled protestations behind him. “So, no, I’m not going to shoot him or fight him. At least not physically, but you can be damn sure I’ll fight him with every other means and method at my disposal. He will see the error he’s making and will change his mind, or else he’ll suffer the consequences.”

“Sounds ominous,” Ben muttered as they eventually crested the top stair to the sixth floor. “But at the end of the day, it’s just a deal. We can always go back to pursuing a deal with the other company you’d originally been considering.”

“No. It has to be this deal, damn it!” Harrison replied, somewhat more harshly than he’d intended.

“But why this deal?”

“Because buying out Wilheimer’s company will make Thornton-Jones Shipping the largest this side of the Atlantic, and the Conglomerate itself one of the largest trading companies in the world.”

“True,” Ben agreed. “But we’ll eventually get there. It just might take us a few more years.”

“Damn it, I don’t have a few more years.” Turning to his right, he headed to the far end of the corridor toward the suite he’d called home for nearly the past five years. “If I can pull off this deal by the end of this year, Thomas Thornton-Jones has agreed to sell me the majority shares for the English arm of the company.” Meaning Harrison’s goal in life, and one he’d worked his butt off for since he was a boy, would be a reality. He’d own his own multimillion-dollar company and be the financial success his grandfather told him he never would.

And no one was going to jeopardize that.

“Hence, this deal must go through,” Harrison continued. “We need to get as much leverage on Wilheimer as we can.”

“I’m already ahead of you on that one,” Ben said, pausing in tandem with Harrison at the door to the suite. “I’ve brought over all of the information I’ve gathered on him.” He patted his satchel.

“And that’s why you’re my right-hand man, Benjamin.” Harrison unlocked the door and strode into the lounge area, gesturing for Ben to follow. “You have a knack for anticipating things.”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate Wilheimer changing his mind.” Ben hurried over to the dining table, while simultaneously pulling out several files from inside his bag and putting them on the table. “But, luckily, we already know most everything about him. Who he banks with, who he owes money to, what clubs he has a membership with, who he socializes with and who his mistresses are.”

“Mistresses, plural?”

“Three,” Ben replied with a straight face.

“The old German has more stamina than I do.” Women were a complication Harrison had little time for, instead preferring to expend his energies on what was important—his business endeavors and ensuring his financial success.

It was a shame his last paramour, Lady Whitley, had started hinting at marriage when Harrison had been under the impression she was more than happy with their casual arrangement.

But it seemed most women wanted more of Harrison than he was willing to give, especially after they found out he was the unwanted heir of his uncle, the Earl of Carlisle. A fact Harrison found laughable, given his father’s family had all but disowned his father when he’d gone against their wishes and did the unthinkable by marrying a maid and running off to America to start a life with her there.

Then when Harrison was eight and his parents both died from typhus, his father’s family hadn’t wanted a thing to do with him, refusing to send him a penny. In a way, it was poetic justice his uncle had been blessed with five daughters and no sons, making Harrison his sole heir. Something Harrison took great pleasure in. Not because he wanted to be an earl—which he didn’t—but because he was sure his grandfather was turning in his grave knowing the earldom would be passed down to the son of a maid. Served the old bastard right.

But an earldom cost money, especially one as poorly managed as his uncle had made it, which was why Harrison couldn’t afford for this deal to fall through. Not after he’d been promised the majority stake in the London operations of the Thornton-Jones empire if he could make it happen.

A stake that would assist with the eventual mammoth upkeep on an estate that consumed pounds like a ravenous beast and would see Harrison’s dreams of being a success realized. Then, perhaps finally, this restless sense of loneliness that had plagued him since his parents’ deaths would abate and he’d be content.

Which was why he had to come up with an effective strategy for how best to leverage Franz Wilheimer into selling his business. Given all men had weaknesses, all Harrison had to do was find the right one to prod. He picked up one of the files and started to flick through it. “Who does Wilheimer bank with?”

Ben reached for another file on the table and quickly thumbed through the pages, stopping on a page in the middle. A slow smile spread over his face. “The International Bank on Cannon Street, and even better, he has several loans with them totaling over one hundred thousand pounds.”

Satisfaction filled him with the news. “Can he raise the capital to fulfill the loans if they’re called in?”

“Highly unlikely,” Ben replied. “Though, he has some solid contracts in operation, which is why we want to buy him out. Those aren’t going to be fulfilled for at least another year or two. As it stands right now, if his debts are called in, he can’t repay them.”

“There’s our leverage.” Lady Luck was smiling down on him with Wilheimer banking at a bank Harrison held a huge amount of sway with, given he sat on the board of directors and owned a large stake of shares in it himself. “Contact the manager at the bank, Mr. Carter, and tell him I’ll be in to see him within the hour. Then find out all you can about why Wilheimer’s changed his mind. See if he’s been approached by another company, or if any of our employees have been visiting or contacting anyone from Wilheimer’s company.”

“You think someone’s been spying for him?”

“Probably.” Harrison made a beeline for the bathroom, wanting to shower and change as quickly as possible. Now that he knew his plan of attack, nothing was going to stop him. “Oh, and set up a meeting with Wilheimer for Monday afternoon, and don’t take no for an answer.”

“Very well, but what about Mr. Thornton-Jones’s niece, Miss Jenkins?” Ben asked, his words halting Harrison in his tracks.

“What about her?” He’d told Thomas he’d collect the man’s niece when she arrived in England for her traineeship.

“Her ship’s due to dock at midday today.”

“Today?”

“Yes, it’s Friday.”

“Damn it.” Harrison dragged a hand through his hair. The last thing he had time to do was play nursemaid to Thomas’s niece when he needed to focus on this deal.

Ben shrugged. “At least it’s just her you’re collecting. His daughter is being picked up by the Countess of Brexton.”

“A small mercy.” Thomas was always lamenting how much of a handful his daughter was, as willful and stubborn as she was charming and confident, apparently. Thomas had assured him his illegitimate niece, Evie, was the more docile and patient of the two, someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions nor bother Harrison overly, given fossils were her passion rather than business. Thank goodness. But still, collecting Miss Jenkins was a complication he didn’t have time for. “You’ll need to get her on my behalf.”

“Actually, I can’t,” Ben replied, appearing completely unapologetic. “I promised Holly I wouldn’t miss out on another one of her doctor’s appointments. Which you should remember given she extracted a promise from you to make sure I attended.”

The very memory of Ben’s petite wife scolding him like a dragon over Ben missing her first appointment was still fresh in his mind. “The last time you missed going to her appointment, she marched into my office and nearly took my head off with her fury. For such a small woman, your wife has one bloody big temper, and one I’d prefer not to incur again.”

“Yes, isn’t she marvelous, especially for someone in her delicate condition,” Ben said, with the usual sappy grin on his face he wore whenever he spoke of his wife, so clearly in love with the woman it was slightly nauseating. “Honestly, she would take on the Queen herself if she tried to come between me and this appointment. Which is why I must attend. Plus, neither of us wish to suffer her wrath again if I don’t.”

Harrison sighed. “Fine. Send Mrs. Holbrook to greet Miss Jenkins then.” It made sense, given his head secretary would not only be training the girl but hosting her at her residence, too.

“Mrs. Holbrook had to have a personal day today to visit her cousin in Windsor,” Ben replied.

“Am I the only one working today?” Harrison threw his hands up in the air. “Send Frederick to collect her then.”

“The office boy?”

“I assume he at least is working.”

“Yes, of course, but are you certain Mr. Thornton-Jones will be fine with Fred collecting Miss Jenkins? Won’t he be upset with the arrangement, given you’ve promised to collect her yourself?”

“Thomas is pragmatic when it comes to business and would do the same in my shoes.” And Harrison should know, since he’d been mentored by Thomas since he was twelve, after he’d gotten up the courage, while shining the man’s boots at the small street stand Harrison had set up on Wall Street, to ask if he could invest in Thomas’s company with the meager amount of dollars he’d saved away.

Thomas had been so impressed with Harrison’s reasoning why he felt the Thornton-Jones Conglomerate was the stock to invest in, that rather than just let Harrison invest, Thomas also gave him a job working as an office boy in his New York office.

Then gradually, through his diligence and determination, Thomas had seen just how serious Harrison was about succeeding, so he’d taken him under his wing and began mentoring him and teaching Harrison about all facets of the company. Eventually, Harrison had proven his worth, becoming Thomas’s most trusted right-hand man, second in charge of all of Thomas’s companies, only answering to Thomas himself.

It was a position Harrison took seriously, never wanting to let down the man who’d done so much for him. A man who was like a second father to him, having believed in him when no one else had given him the time of day.

“Stop worrying about it, Ben,” Harrison said. “It’s not like Miss Jenkins will be walking the streets alone. Fred will take her straight from the docks to Mrs. Holbrook’s, where she’ll be safe. Now is that all?”

“Yes,” Ben mumbled. “I’ll arrange everything.”

“Good, and don’t take no from Wilheimer about setting up a meeting for Monday.”

“I won’t.” Ben nodded and twisted on his heel, heading for the main door.

Harrison watched the door close and latch before striding into the bathroom and stripping off to get into the shower. The quicker he could get this whole mess sorted out and get the deal back on track, the better.

Miss Jenkins’s arrival was an annoyance he’d have to work around, but if she was as agreeable as Thomas said, then it wouldn’t prove too difficult at all.