“May I join you, my lord? It’s important.” The stranger leaned slightly forward as he added the last in an undertone.

“Oh? I don’t know you, sir, and I fail to see how we could have any important business to conduct.”

“The fact that you don’t know me is irrelevant,” he said cryptically. “The business we have to conduct concerns your ship the Sea Pride, my lord.”

“The Pride? What have you to do with the Pride?” Noah demanded, his eyes narrowing in anticipation of new trouble. What did this man want? Was there to be another claim laid against the already ravaged remains of the estate?

“Nothing, my lord. At least not yet, and that’s what I need to talk with you about.” There seemed an underlying urgency to his words.

Noah was relieved that his first suspicion had proved wrong, and since the man’s manner was nonthreatening, he waved him into the opposite chair.

“What is it? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I’m here to make you an offer.” At the sound of the taproom’s door opening, the stranger glanced sharply in that direction, relaxing again only when he’d noted who’d entered the establishment.

“The Sea Pride is not for sale,” Noah said firmly.

“It’s not the ship we’re interested in.” He met Noah’s gaze across the table. “I’ve heard through certain reliable sources that you’ll be shipping arms to the colonies aboard the Sea Pride. If that is true, then I’m prepared to make you an offer for that shipment.”

Noah stiffened, irritated that his private business should be so widely known, and he asked imperiously, “Who are you, sir?”

“I’m an Englishman who’s angered with the unfair treatment the colonies are receiving from the Crown,” the stranger answered.

“You’re approaching me with an offer to purchase my shipment of war materials for possible use against England? Are you mad? Do you think I’m a traitor to my country?”

“I think you’re a smart businessman, or at least I had hoped you were,” the other shrugged. “It’s not a matter of loyalties. It’s a matter of money. Our offer would be considerably higher than any others you’re likely to receive.” The man gazed levelly across the table at Noah, trying to read his response, but Noah was careful to disguise his true feelings as he wrestled with the unexpected proposal. “There’s no need for you to decide now. Think about it.” Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “You’ll be docking in Boston. This note contains the name of the person to contact if you decide to take up my offer.”

He shoved the paper slowly across the surface of the table and then stood up. “Good night, Lord Kincade.”

Noah sat immobile, staring at the note. That single folded piece of paper represented to him the final proof of the magnitude of his losses, yet he could not stop himself from reaching out for it. The memory of his friends’ rejection and the forfeiture of Kincade Hall was too real…too consuming. He would do whatever he had to do to survive. As his hand closed around the note, he looked up, but to his surprise, the stranger had gone.

Cecelia Demorest sat sedately with the group of women, listening idly to their chatter about the upcoming ball at the Spencer household on Saturday night.

“Spencer’s party Saturday night should be marvelous,” Marianna Lord twittered as she sipped delicately from her cup of tea. A plump, happily married lady in her early thirties, Marianna always enjoyed these afternoons when the ladies of her social set met for tea and gossip. “I understand that several of the local dignitaries will be there, and Lord Radcliffe and Lord Townley.”

It was all CC, as Cecelia’s friends called her, could do to contain her feelings and not grimace at Marianna’s breathless mention of the aristocrats. Though CC’s father was an important agent for the British government in Boston and dealt with these men on occasion, she personally found them hard to tolerate. Those she’d had the misfortune to meet had been very puffed-up with their own consequence, and most high-handed. Her father, an Englishman through and through, thought nothing of their pompous, demanding ways, but CC, born and raised in the Americas, thought the noblemen not an endearing bunch. As far as she was concerned, everyone in the colonies would be better off if the aristocrats stayed in England, where they belonged.

“I know I’m looking forward to it,” Margaret Kingsley agreed, and then added slyly, “And who knows? Perhaps by Saturday Eve Woodham will be ready to announce her engagement to Lord Radcliffe.”

“Really?” Marianna immediately perked up. “I knew that they were seeing each other, but I had no idea…”

“Well, they’ve been quite close, you know, and there’s no denying Eve is looking for another husband. She couldn’t do much better than an English lord, now could she?”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” CC stated derisively, unable to resist the temptation to add her own thoughts on the matter.

“Really, CC…” Marianna was surprised by her statement. Wasn’t it every girl’s dream to marry a rich, handsome titled gentleman? “Can it be jealousy we’re hearing?”

“Hardly, Marianna,” CC replied, not in the least stung by her friend’s assumption of envy. “You forget that my father deals with these noblemen all the time. I’ve been singularly unimpressed with them.”

“CC!” The other women were stunned. “Surely you’re jesting!”

CC laughed in delight at their shock. “Really, ladies, think about it. Most of the noblemen we’ve met have been fat and ugly or very effeminate, haven’t they?” She watched in satisfaction as the ladies exchanged looks, unable to argue. “I have to admit that Lord Radcliffe is relatively attractive, but looks don’t make the man. We all know he’s an arrogant ass.”

“He’s certainly the perfect partner for Eve, then,” Caroline Chadwick put in cattily, and the others laughed at her frankness.

Eve Woodham was a classically beautiful blonde who had been widowed several years before. Well aware of her attractiveness, Eve used her position in society to her best advantage. The other women knew that no man, not even their own husbands and boyfriends, would be safe from her charms, should she decide to make one of them her quarry.

“Indeed he is,” CC agreed, her emerald eyes alight with mischief.

“Well, if you aren’t out to catch a nobleman, then what do you want in your perfect partner?” Marianna teased.

A longtime friend, Marianna had known her for over ten years. She had watched in delight as CC, a rather gangly, awkward child, had blossomed into a lovely young woman. With her auburn hair and green eyes set off by the perfection of her peaches-and-cream complexion and softly curved figure, CC was strikingly attractive. It was a mystery to Marianna why she had never picked one of her ardent suitors and settled down. Lord knows, at twenty-two, she’d been courted by many, but she’d never seriously encouraged any of them.

“Oh, I don’t know, Marianna.” CC frowned slightly. “I really haven’t thought about it much.”

And that, in fact, was the truth, for, unknown to her friends, CC was not even the least bit interested in marriage and babies. There was something far more important in her life that drew all her interest, but it was something she could not reveal to anyone.

“You must have some idea, CC,” Margaret chided. “Come on, tell us. What’s your dream man like?”

With a light laugh, CC allowed herself to fantasize for a moment; her expression grew slightly distant and rapturous as she tried to envision her perfect mate. “All right, I’ll tell you. He’d have to be tall, dark, handsome, and as fair and honest as my father.”

“You’re certainly not asking for much!” Caroline teased

“But what about riches? You didn’t mention that. Doesn’t your future husband have to be wealthy?”