Page 95 of Miss Vincent’s Vow
“Brandy.”
The butler poured the amber liquid into a glass and placed it on a tray, which he offered to Mr Wade. At a nod from Jethro, the servant bowed and left.
“What? No brandy for yourself? Aren’t you joining me?” Mr Wade asked, giving him a curious look.
“I don’t drink spirits.”
“No taste for them?”
“On the contrary, but I do not care for the way they blur my reasoning. I like to keep my wits about me. It keeps me ahead of my fellow businessmen who sometimes indulge rather freely.”
“I am impressed—but don’t you ever stop? Aren’t there occasions when you can unwind and put your business down for a while?”
Memories flitted across Jethro’s mind, of walking up to the Lookout with Cassandra, of cinnamon biscuits in the warehouse, of reading to her in an evening.
When he was with her, he forgot about everything else.
“Ah. I see your smile. You are thinking of your wife—I would bet my life on it. She is an admirable woman.”
“Yes, she is.”
“What? No eulogies on your wife’s perfections?” Mr Wade said, a teasing look in his eye.
“I do not care to discuss my wife with you or any other person.”
“Hmm. That’s fair enough. I can respect that.”
“And now,” Jethro said, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers together in front of him, “perhaps you will explain why you force on me a dinner party with my rival. What is your game, Mr Wade?”
The result was not what he expected. His visitor leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
“Are you always so direct?” he asked, confronting Jethro’s glare with his own.
“When it suits my purpose. Tell me, what do you hope to achieve by such a meeting?”
Mr Wade bent forward, keeping his eyes on him, as his fingers tapped a rhythm on the table.
Jethro said nothing, waiting for an answer to his question.
Mr Wade broke the silence with another chuckle, and Jethro’s scowl deepened. What was this man playing at?
“It is better to look your enemy in the face rather than have them sneak around behind your back. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Jethro gave a curt nod, but he did not drop his guard. Just who was his enemy here—Mr Frampton or Mr Wade? Was his investor meeting him now only to transfer his support to his rival?
“Then what have you to lose? Are you afraid your wife’s brother will embarrass you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“He has done so before, hasn’t he? To the extent that you threw him out of your house.”
Every muscle in Jethro’s body tensed. Frampton must have been busy building up evidence against him. Word had got back to Mr Wade of Alexander’s last disastrous visit.
Was his behaviour that night going to haunt him forever? If only he had mustered a greater resistance to the captain’s taunts.
“Don’t look so severe, Hunt,” Mr Wade said. “From what I have heard, his expulsion was deserved. And yet, you welcome him back into your home. That speaks volumes about your character. You are blessed with a more forgiving nature than most.”
Jethro pursed his lips and gave the man a hard stare. “Forgiveness is a choice, Mr Wade. A choice we can all make if we choose to. Everyone can be forgiven, if they repent of their mistakes.”
