A Lady Dares. Bronwyn Scott
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the Queen Maeve?’ He was gratified by the flicker of recognition in her eyes. So the princess wasn’t just desperate for money. She knew something about boats, too. ‘Fastest racer on the Mediterranean and I built her.’
Built her and lost her, much to his regret. She’d been his dream, but in the end he’d had to let her go. There would be other boats, other dreams. That’s what he told himself anyway, although there hadn’t been that many opportunities since coming back to England. Not until now. This boat could be his ticket back to Gibraltar, back to the life he’d built there. But that life was based on having a fast ship.
Dorian ran his hand over the smooth, sanded side of the hull where it was finished. The yacht had good lines. The familiar magic started to hum in his veins; the itch to pick up tools and shape something into sleekness thrummed in his hands. Best not let the princess see that longing. It was better they assume she was the only desperate party here.
‘You built the Queen Maeve?’ she queried in sceptical disbelief.
‘And others, but she was my favourite.’ An understatement.
‘I told you, Elise, Rowland is the best,’ her brother said, entering the conversation for the first time, apparently happy enough to let his sister handle negotiations. Dorian wished he could remember the young man more clearly.
Miss Sutton studied him. She was weighing hope against desperation. Dorian could see it in her eyes. Could She afford to let him go? She had to know already she could not. Who else would take her deal? She knew the answer to that as well as he did. She’d had a look at reality. Still, caution carried some weight with her. ‘You’ve spent a lot of time in the Mediterranean, an area known more or less for its lawlessness on the seas.’
‘Less these days,’ Dorian muttered under his breath. If Britain hadn’t been so steadfast in taming the seas, he might still be there, but tamed seas were bad for business, his business at least. Tamed seas forced a man to be more creative in his ventures.
She huffed and raised an eyebrow in censure over the interruption. ‘I must ask, are you a pirate, Mr Rowland?’
‘If I can build your yacht, does it matter?’ He winked. ‘That’s a rhetorical question, Miss Sutton—we both know I’m your last best chance. I’ll start tomorrow.’ He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He strode across the yard to the shed, calling over his shoulder as he opened the door to the lean-to, ‘If you need me, I’ll be in my office.’
Chapter Three
He was the last thing she needed! And if he needed her, which would be the more likely case, she’d be in her office, a fact Elise demonstrated by loudly stomping up the stairs and slamming the office door, an effect which was ruined by her brother immediately opening the door and quietly shutting behind him when he entered.
‘Did you see how he just came in here and tried to take over?’ Elise steamed, pacing the square dimensions of the office with rapid steps. ‘He’s the builder, not the owner. Five hundred pounds, my foot. This is my yard and he’d better remember that.’
‘He’ll build the yacht, Elise, you’d better remember that.’
The firmness of her brother’s tone stopped her steps. William had never spoken to her harshly. ‘What do you mean?’ Elise faced him slowly. He lounged against the wall, casual and elegant, a subtle reminder that he wasn’t the adolescent boy she was used to after all these years. The mantle of manhood was starting to settle about him in the sternness of his features. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
‘I mean, I will be away at university. Mother is gone. There’s no one to help you if you lose Rowland. Pay him what he wants, get the boat finished and let’s be done with this.’
Elise struggled to keep her mouth from falling open. ‘Let’s be done with this? What does that mean?’ She suspected she knew, but that was not at all what she wanted to hear.
‘It means let’s clear the debt and start a new life.’
Oh, that was better. She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘A new line, yes, of course. I have a lot of ideas about yacht lines and how we can branch out into sailboats. I think racing will fully shift from rivers to open sea in the next few years. We might even think of relocating to Cowes to be closer to the Solent.’ She was babbling excitedly now, reaching for a tube containing rolls of her drawings, but a shake of William’s head stopped her.
‘No, Elise, I don’t mean to redefine the company. I mean we should close the book on the company once the debts are paid. There will be a little left over for you until you marry and you can always stay with me. I hope to find a living somewhere or take an associate’s post at Oxford.’
It took a moment for William’s words to sink in. ‘Close the company?’ She sat down behind the desk, stunned. Had her brother been thinking this all along?
‘Well, what did you think we’d do after the yacht was finished?’ William pressed.
‘I thought we’d build more boats. You’ll see, William. After people view this yacht, there will be other orders. This yacht will relaunch us. It will show everyone we can turn out the same superior product we’ve always turned out. The investors will come back.’ It made so much sense to her. Surely William could see the logic in that?
‘How many master builders do you think I know?’ William gave a soft laugh.
‘I’m not sure how you knew this one.’ Elise put in tartly. ‘Care to explain?’
William dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. ‘It was just a house party put on by the parents of a friend of mine. A few of us went to help balance out numbers and Rowland was there. One night, we started talking and discovered we both had a common interest in yachting.’
Elise wrinkled her brow. ‘He hardly strikes me as the Oxford house-party type.’ Whatever Dorian Rowland was, she didn’t imagine he was the scholarly sort. Tan, blond and hard-bodied, he definitely didn’t spend his days poring over books in libraries.
William was growing impatient with her prying. ‘Look, I don’t know what he was doing there. He said he’d made a delivery, brought something up from London. How I know him is not the point. The point is, I was lucky enough to know this one. He’ll finish your boat, but he won’t stay. You’ll be right back where you started.’
‘I’ll pay him more,’ Elise blurted out, looking for an easy solution. But inside her heart she knew her brother was right: Dorian Rowland wouldn’t stay. He’d made it clear he was a man who did what pleased him, when it pleased him. Her proposition suited him for the moment. That was the only reason he’d taken her offer.
‘Money won’t always be enough for a man like him,’ William said with a maturity that surprised her. ‘I’ve bought you time, Elise, to wrap up business and clear the bills, nothing more. Besides, you need to get on with your life, get out to parties and meet people.’ By meet people, he meant meet men who would be potential husbands. Elise frowned in disapproval. She’d seen those men and been disappointed with them and by them.
When she didn’t respond he paused awkwardly, his tone softening. ‘Not every man is Robert Graves,’ William said quietly.
Elise wasn’t quite ready to relent. ‘Well, thank goodness for that.’ Robert Graves, the biggest, worst mistake she’d ever made. She’d thought William might have been young enough to not remember him, or at least to not understand the depths of her mistake.
‘Charles Bradford has expressed an interest in you,’ William cajoled. Charles was the son of one of her father’s former investors. ‘He’s a very proper fellow.’
‘Sometimes too proper,’ Elise said briskly. She began looking needlessly through some papers on the desk, wanting to bring this conversation to a close. She wasn’t interested in a suitor. She was interested in building a yacht and getting the company back on its feet.