Chapter 46

Two weeks later.

Robert Tolley, Duke of Saffron Walden, would rather he was anywhere else other than sitting in the receiving room at East India House, Leadenhall Street, London.

I feel like Daniel in the lion's den. God, I hope I make it out of here alive.

He glanced nervously around the room, slowly taking it all in. It was elegantly furnished. There were ornate tapestries on the wall, and he was certain that the gold trim on the arm of the chair where he sat was real. For a company which had shamelessly robbed the east for centuries, it was clear that the East India Company had no qualms about showing off its wealth and power.

But while the room would not have looked out of place at any royal palace, it had a dank, close air about it. The sun, barely filtering through the small window up high, bathed the room in a weak beige light. On a nearby table, a cluster of fat candles added some light, but the smoke they gave off only served to make the air stifling. It was hard to breathe.

Beside him on the hard, overstuffed sofa sat James Ashton. His back was ramrod straight and his gaze was focused on a spot somewhere on the far wall. The father of Victoria's cousin-in-law barely moved. The man looked for all the world like he'd been turned into a statue.

"Did they give any indication as to how long they expected me to wait out here?" ventured Robert. He'd guessed that the Honorable East India Company would take its sweet time in meeting with them. Making him wait outside the main boardroom was a less than subtle way of putting him in his place. Of letting him know who was calling the shots.

"No, they didn't. But the fact that they even agreed to meet with us is a major victory," replied James, turning to face Robert. "The East India is not known for sitting down and talking to their enemies. They have a long and bloody history of letting their armies speak for them."

Robert nodded. As much as it pained him to admit it, James Ashton was right. This meeting today was a victory of sorts. Hollow, but a victory, nonetheless.

The door of the boardroom opened and a clerk, clad in the company uniform of all black, appeared. He took one look at Robert and James and bowed his head. "Mister Ashton, Your Grace, they are ready for you now."

Ignoring the obvious insult of having been addressed after a mere mister, Robert rose from the uncomfortable seat. He took a moment to let the blood flow back to his ass and legs, then bent and picked up his leather satchel.

The bag was empty, but Victoria had insisted on him bringing it. She'd said it added a certain gravitas to his look. After all he had put his wife through, he wasn't in a position to argue.

As he followed James Ashton into the boardroom, Robert's thoughts turned briefly to the woman who had captured his heart. He owed it to her and to their combined future to make certain he settled matters today. The memory of Victoria firing her pistol at that man, and then seeing him drop to the ground dead, would haunt Robert for the rest of his days.

Letting out a slow, calming breath, he took the seat offered to him by the clerk. He politely waved away the offer of tea. Coming here in order to make a deal with the devil was bad enough, but he drew the line at breaking bread with them.

At the head of the table, seated on ornately-carved, crimson-velvet-covered chairs, the three directors of the Honorable East India Company didn't bother to acknowledge his arrival. Robert took one look at the stacks of papers which sat in front of them and stifled an indignant huff. These people were no better than well-dressed pirates hiding behind laws which they'd helped parliament to write and enact.

At least pirates had a code of honor. These men represent a company which has built its immense fortune on stealing the wealth of other countries, and still enslaves people.

He was nauseous. Angry with himself for having been so reckless and finding himself in this situation.

More papers were shuffled around the table. The message was clear: he was just another item on their agenda for the morning.

But they wouldn't be talking to me if I didn't represent a clear and present threat to their business.

The black-suited clerk was handed a piece of paper by one of his superiors. The man then walked with measured steps to where Robert sat and dropped the paper in front of him with little to no ceremony. "If Your Grace would be so kind as to read the terms of our settlement."

Robert's gaze took in the wording which he and James had come up with to put to the East India Company. The terms were simple. He was to immediately cease stealing from them, and to hand back any and all spice remaining in his possession which belonged to the company. In return the East India would no longer pursue any action against him. The original submitted letter had been transformed with flowery legalese, but he understood it well enough. Nothing of any substance had changed.

"Very well, I agree to the terms of the letter. Your goods are to be returned to you, and in return, you will call off the dogs," said Robert.

James leaned in close. "Remember what I told you. Don't sign anything. Just offer them your handshake." Even James Ashton, long-time career man of the East India didn't trust his employer.

Hopefully there would come a day when the British government finally put this gang of villains out of business. Robert could only hope he lived that long.

The director seated at the head of the table cleared his throat. "A vulgar way of putting it, but yes. Your Grace has overstepped the mark and now we are siding with the umpire and calling it a no-ball."

Robert pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. He hated it when people used cricketing analogies. There was nothing sporting about the way these criminals did business.

Get this over with, and then go home to Victoria. That's all that matters.

Before he'd met his wife, he would never have even considered talking to the members of the East India Company, let alone agreeing to a cessation of hostilities. But Victoria, as she often did, had the right of it.

If she hadn't met him and attempted to make an honest... ish man out of him, then at some point, matters would have eventually come to a head. On a dark road far from London, a brave company man would have stood his ground and put a bullet in Robert's head. As it was, only Victoria's firm intervention had saved him from that fate.

It was odd that the East India hadn't made mention of their own missing man. Robert suspected they knew he'd met a dark end, but they had decided their agent was expendable and not worth the bother.

And they probably thought the same about my wife.

Under the table, Robert clenched his fists. He'd love to punch someone. Preferably one of the smug-faced asses who were looking down their noses at him from the other end of the table. His temper began to rise.

James's thumb dug sharply into Robert's hip. "What you are feeling now is the battle between your rational self and your pride," whispered James. "Don't let your pride win."

Those words of caution had the desired effect. Robert took in a deep breath and let his fingers relax.

I will do this for Victoria, for my wife and her love.

He picked up the piece of paper and rose slowly from his chair. Taking care not to show any emotion, he made his way to the top of the boardroom table. When he reached the directors, Robert bent and slid the piece of paper across the highly polished oak surface, stopping it in front of the chairman. "Gentlemen, we have an accord." He righted himself and held out his hand.

The chairman looked down his nose at Robert's outstretched hand then rose to his feet. From the glint in his eye and sly smile on his lips, it was clear he considered that he and the company could now claim victory. The Honorable East India Company had beaten the Duke of Spice.

The merest of handshakes followed. "So you will return what is ours and vow never to steal from us again?"

Robert knitted his brows in feigned confusion. They couldn't possibly be referring to him, could they? He was a duke; dukes didn't steal. And they most certainly didn't go around holding up wagons and royal mail coaches in the dead of the night.

He cleared his throat. "I shall inform the gentleman responsible for your missing property to cease and desist from liberating any more of it, and to return what goods he still has in his possession."

They might have won the war, but he wasn't about to go down on bended knee and lick their boots. There would be no admission of guilt. A man could only take so many blows to his pride.

He nodded to the two other directors. "Good day, gentlemen."

Making sure that his walk was one of a man who hadn't a care in the world, Robert headed for the door. A minute later James Ashton met him outside in the anteroom and handed him back his empty satchel. "Let's get out of here and go find the nearest tavern. It goes without saying that Your Grace is paying."

Robert's heart was still racing by the time they made it downstairs and out into Leadenhall Street. His cool, calm facade was close to cracking. He dared not tell James Ashton that he'd lain awake all last night on the verge of being utterly consumed by his fear. By the dread that once he set foot inside East India House, he may never make it out alive again.

He'd only finally and somewhat reluctantly agreed to attend today's meeting after Victoria had sent word to every titled male relative in her wide family circle, informing them that her husband was visiting at Leadenhall Street today, and that if he didn't return home by three o'clock, they were to march en masse and demand his immediate release.

Robert walked to the end of the block, then stopped. He sucked in a deep breath. It was over. His part in the secret war against the East India's monopoly was done.

Now I really am just a spice farmer.

He was surprised to discover that he wasn't angry. Granted a touch disappointed, but also relieved. It really was over.

And if Victoria was at his side, and they could now look forward to sharing a life of love together, that was more than enough for him. Robert turned to James and offered him a grateful smile.

"Thank you. I owe you a lifelong debt, which I don't know how I can ever repay."

James shook his head. "Just stay out of trouble, that's all the payment I require. I've spent twenty odd years with the Honorable East India, and they are not the sort of people to ever forget when they have been crossed. The EIC has a long memory."

He got the message implied by James Ashton's words. The war between the Duke of Spice and his archenemy might be officially over, but he should always take care to watch his back.

Robert gave a grim smile. "I understand." For the rest of his life he would do his best to steer clear of the East India. His only thoughts now were to create a future with Victoria. To keep her safe, and never again know the fear he'd felt that night in the laneway.