Breaking the Rake's Rules. Bronwyn Scott
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Название: Breaking the Rake's Rules

Автор: Bronwyn Scott

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

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isbn: 9781474005746

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СКАЧАТЬ was not naive enough to think the crown had established the charter out of the goodness of its royal heart. The crown and those associated with it stood to make a great deal of money as a result of this decision. Kitt wanted to be associated. The charter would give the crown a monopoly not just on banking, but over the profits of the island.

      ‘Exactly so,’ Rutherford agreed, his eyes focused on a faceted paperweight.

      It was Kitt’s understanding Mr Rutherford’s job was to make sure the charter was settled and the right players were in place. Rutherford would decide who those players would be. Although right now, Rutherford hardly seemed capable of making such weighty decisions. Then again, it might also be the effects of travel and late nights. Rutherford was not the youngest of men. Yet another interesting factor in having chosen him. Still, the bottom line was this: the interview was not going well.

      It occurred to Kitt that Rutherford’s disinterest might have something to do with him personally. Maybe the man had already decided not to include him in the first tier of investors. Perhaps his daughter had told him certain things about balconies and kisses after all.

      Kitt decided to be blunt. He had worked too hard for this invitation. He knew very well he’d only got his name on the list of potential investors because of his connections to Ren Dryden, Earl of Dartmoor. It had been Ren who’d put his name forward. ‘What kind of bank will it be?’ Kitt asked. He had his ideas, but clarification was important. There were savings banks and joint stock banks—quite a wide variety, really, since the banking reforms a few years ago—and when it came to money, not all banks were equal.

      Rutherford showed a spark of life. ‘Joint stock, of course. There are backers in London already assembled, waiting for counterpart investors to be assembled here. It will be like the provincial bank I was on the board for in England.’

      Kitt nodded his understanding. This was good. The man had some experience. He would need it. These sorts of arrangements weren’t without risk. Joint stock meant two things. First, it meant that the investors would share in the profits and in the losses. What the bank chose to invest in would be important, so would the level of risk. The less risk the better, but the less risk the fewer the profits, too. Second, it meant that shares could be traded on the exchange. They’d operate essentially like a business. This was not just a mere savings bank, it was a venture capital bank.

      ‘Would we be loaning money to plantations?’ Kitt asked, thinking of how that would change the current loan system. Right now, private merchants were primarily responsible for advancing the planters loans against the upcoming harvest so planters could buy supplies. It was what he’d done for Ren, or had tried to do for Ren before the bandits had upended the rum sale yesterday. A bank would reduce the opportunity for single merchants to finance planters. For those not on the board it would eliminate an avenue of income. No wonder there was competition for these spots.

      Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bryn reaching for something under her skeins of threads. No, not reaching. Writing. She was writing on a notebook. She’d been taking notes the entire time. Like Selby, he’d got so caught up in the discussion, in assessing Rutherford’s assets, he’d not taken time to notice. Her part in all this was growing more interesting by the moment.

      ‘It would depend,’ Rutherford explained, ‘on their collateral. Property cannot be taken as security.’

      Kitt was thoughtful for a moment. Rutherford knew his banking vocabulary. That was reassuring. ‘What do we mean by property, exactly?’ Property, was a pretty wide term.

      ‘It means the obvious, of course; homes and farms cannot be used as security.’ Rutherford paused for a long moment and Bryn looked up, neatly inserting herself into the conversation.

      ‘But it also means the less obvious, too, doesn’t it, Father? That merchandise like rum or sugar can’t be used as security either?’ Kitt recognised immediately it wasn’t a question as much as a prompt.

      ‘It’s not really a question of collateral then, is it?’ Kitt surmised, flashing Bryn an inquisitive glance. ‘We’re to invest and hope there’s profit. If there isn’t, we’re unlucky. There’s no recouping of funds.’ There would be no collateral. The charter had just couched it in different terms.

      ‘Yes. Certainly, we can invest in the plantations, we just can’t expect anything in return beyond a piece of the profits,’ Rutherford said, regaining his confidence. ‘Still, there’s money to be made here.’

      Kitt raised his eyebrows, encouraging the man to say more about what that money might be. Rum certainly, sugar and even tobacco in places were good cash crops. Then there was the merchandising end of things if a man acted quickly enough and knew when to get out. There was a boom going on currently, riding the wave of emancipation. Freed slaves meant more wage-earning consumers and that meant more demand for goods. Kitt knew that boom would not last, but for now it was spawning a retail layer that had originally been focused only on wholesale to large plantations.

      ‘There’s land, for starters,’ Rutherford offered, looking pleased with himself.

      ‘There’s some,’ Kitt said evenly, but he found the choice odd. It wouldn’t have been his first option. But a non-native Englishman would. A newcomer wouldn’t understand. ‘Most of the land in Barbados is already under cultivation.’ He’d been here for six years and knew first-hand there wasn’t much left to claim unless it was bought from a previous owner. It was something the freedmen were struggling with. They wanted to be their own farmers, but there wasn’t any land. This was an area where only time could teach a newcomer the realities of property ownership on an island where land was definitely a finite commodity.

      Sneed entered to announce the next appointment was waiting. Rutherford nodded and turned to Kitt. ‘I will be assembling the board of directors over the next few weeks. I hope we’ll have a chance to talk further. I hear you’re a successful businessman in these parts. You come recommended. Your expertise of the area would be useful in determining the right investments for us.’

      ‘Quite possibly.’ Kitt rose and shook the man’s hand. The veiled invitation was progress enough for today. It confirmed he had not been ruled out. He also appreciated he wasn’t being asked to commit today. The bank was going to happen. It was already a fait accompli. That was assured. What wasn’t assured was the bank’s success. If the bank was going to do well, it would need someone knowledgeable and strong at its helm. A weaker man might easily be led astray and subsequently Rutherford, too.

      Selby rose as well. ‘I was hoping I might have a private word with you before I go?’ he said to Rutherford, shooting a pointed look in Kitt’s direction. In general, Selby didn’t like him. He was too reckless for the young man’s more conservative tastes. A plainer plea for privacy could not have been made. Kitt might have been offended over the dismissal if it hadn’t suited his purposes.

      Kitt glanced over at Bryn. ‘Perhaps you could show me the gardens? You mentioned them last night and I’m eager to see them.’ He turned towards Rutherford. ‘If it’s all right with you, of course?’

      Rutherford beamed and nodded. ‘Absolutely. Bryn dear, show our guest the gardens. I didn’t know you were a botanist, Captain?’

      Kitt gave a short nod of his head. ‘I’m a man of diverse interests, Mr Rutherford.’ He offered Bryn his arm, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction at the disapproving frown on Selby’s face. It served him right for coming early and then asking for a private audience on top of that. ‘Shall we, Miss Rutherford? I want to see the trellis you’ve told me so much about. It’s a climbing trellis, if I remember correctly?’

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