A Lady Dares. Bronwyn Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ in commemoration of our great day sailing Commencement Bay. And for the Lindsleys who took me on my first and only sailboat ride.

       Chapter One

      Blackwell Docks, Sutton Shipyard, London—mid-March 1839

      She was screwed! Absolutely royally screwed in the literal sense of the word; the word in question being ‘royally’, of course. Elise Sutton crumpled the letter in her hand and stared blindly at the office wall. Like the other investors, the royal family had finally withdrawn their patronage. And like the other investors, they’d politely waited a ‘decent’ interval to tell her. They were very sorry to hear of her father’s death, but the result was the same. The Sutton Yacht Company was on the brink of bankruptcy, brought to its knees by the sudden and tragic death of its founder, Sir Richard Sutton, six months earlier.

      In truth, the idea the company had survived its owner by six months was something of an illusion. It had likely died with her father, only no one had bothered to tell her that. Apparently, courtesy demanded she be allowed to rise at dawn every morning and spend the next sixteen hours a day poring over account books, cataloguing inventory and lobbying investors who had no intentions of staying. She’d worn herself out all for naught and what passed for courtesy let her do it.

      Well, courtesy be damned! It wasn’t a very ladylike thought, but according to the ton, she hadn’t been a lady for quite some time. By their exalted standards, ladies didn’t work side by side with their fathers in the family business. Ladies didn’t design yachts, didn’t spend their days adding up columns of numbers and most certainly didn’t set aside mourning half a year early to try to save sinking businesses. ladies meekly accepted the inevitable with hands folded in their laps and backs held rigid.

      If that’s what ladies did, she most definitely wasn’t one. She’d spent the last seven years working with her father. The yacht company was as much hers as it had been his. It was part of her and she would not let it go, not without a fight.

      At the moment she had admittedly few tools to fight with. The investors had gone, unconvinced the company could produce a worthy product without her father at the helm. The craftsmen and master builder had gone next. The presence of females had long been anathema in the nautical world and no reassurance on her part could induce them to stay. Even her mother was gone. Playing the devastated widow to the hilt, Olivia Sutton had retreated to the country after the funeral and simply disappeared.

      Elise had told enquiring souls that her mother was taking her father’s death very poorly. Secretly, Elise thought her mother was managing quite well, too well for her personal tastes. In the months since the funeral, her mother’s letters from the country had become increasingly upbeat. There were quiet card parties and dinners to attend and everyone was so kind, now there was no longer an often absent husband to consider.

      Her mother had loved Richard Sutton’s title; Sir Richard Sutton had been knighted two years prior for services to the Royal Thames Yacht Club, but Olivia Sutton hadn’t loved the work that had driven and absorbed him, taking him away from her. The marriage had been a convenient arrangement for years. Olivia had been more than happy to leave her daughter and son to manage the business of coping with solicitors, creditors and the other sundry visitors who hovered over a death like vultures.

      The pencil in Elise’s hand snapped, the fifth one today. The sound drew her brother’s attention from the window overlooking the shipyard. ‘Is it as bad as all that?’

      Elise pushed the pieces into the little pile on the corner of her desk with the remains of their fellow brethren. ‘It’s worse.’ She rose and joined William at the window. The normally bustling shipyard below them was silent and empty, a sight she was still having a hard time adjusting to. ‘I’ve sold anything of value associated with the business.’

      There hadn’t been that much to sell, but that was only partially true. The shipyard itself was a valuable piece of property for its location on the Thames. She wasn’t sure she could face the prospect of giving up the business entirely. This had been her life. What would she do every day if she didn’t design yachts? Where would she go if she didn’t come here? Giving up the yard would be akin to giving up a piece of her soul. In society’s eyes she’d already done that once when she’d chosen to follow her father and not the pathway trod by other gently reared girls with means.

      William sighed, pushing a hand through his blond hair, the gesture so much like their father it made her heart ache. At nineteen, William was a taller, lankier version of him, a living memory of the man they’d lost. ‘How much are we short?’

      ‘Twelve thousand pounds.’ Just saying the words hurt. No one had that kind of money except noblemen. Elise thought of the crumpled letter. She’d been counting on that. Royal patronage would have sustained them.

      William whistled. ‘That’s not exactly pocket change.’

      ‘You could always marry an heiress.’ Elise elbowed him and tried for levity. William didn’t love the business as she did, but he’d loved Father and he’d been her supporter these past months, taking time away from his beloved studies to visit.

      ‘I could leave my studies.’ William said seriously. He was starting his third term at Oxford and thriving in the academic atmosphere. They’d been over this before. She wouldn’t hear of it.

      ‘No, Father wanted his son educated,’ Elise argued firmly. ‘Besides, it wouldn’t be enough.’ She didn’t want to be cruel, she appreciated her brother’s offer, but the money would hardly make a difference. Since it didn’t, it seemed unfair for William to make a useless sacrifice even if it was a noble offer.

      ‘What about the investors—perhaps they would advance funds?’ William suggested. The last time he’d been home, there’d still been a few remaining who had not yet discreetly weaned themselves from the company, still hoping there might be a way yet to continue with the latest project.

      Elise shook her head. ‘They’ve all pulled out. No one wants to invest in a company that can’t produce a product.’ They’d more than pulled out. It was largely the investors’ faults she was in such a pickle. Her father had not been debt ridden, but neither had he been wallowing in assets. The investors had withdrawn their support and asked for their money returned, unconvinced the latest project they’d financed would see completion.

      Said project lay below them in the quiet yard—the half-completed shell of her father’s latest design for a racing yacht, planned with new innovations in mind, lay dormant. For the last several weeks, the investors were proven right. Supplies purchased with the investors’ money from the outset lined the lonely perimeter, tarp covered and forgotten. ‘A pity the investors didn’t want to be paid in timber and pitch,’ Elise muttered. ‘I’ve got plenty of that.’

      William’s eyes settled on her, brown and thoughtful. ‘All the supplies have been purchased?’

      ‘Yes. Father buys—bought,’ Elise corrected herself, ‘everything up front, it makes production faster and we don’t have to worry about running out at a crucial point.’

      William nodded absently, his mind racing behind his eyes. ‘How much would the yacht have brought?’

      She smiled wryly. ‘Enough. It would have been plenty.’ It wouldn’t have been just about the yacht. There would have been other orders, too. This yacht was meant to be a prototype. Rich men would have seen it and wanted one for themselves. But it was no use now counting hypothetical pounds.

      ‘You could СКАЧАТЬ