"Yes."
"It must be a very large policy."
He flicked the reins, encouraging the horses to pick up their pace. "Not that large, but…" He let his voice trail off. Did he want to explain the other? Would she, a woman, even understand?
"But what?"
Blue eyes blazing with intelligence and curiosity compelled him to speak.
"I convinced several friends to invest their money in the venture."
"I don't understand. If you return a day or two late with the cargo, it will still fetch the same price in the market, will it not?"
Her understanding of business still discomposed him. "My friends did not only invest in the cargo, but they invested in the journey. They have each taken out policies as well."
She sniffed. "It sounds like a wager to me."
He smiled at her disapproving tone. "There are plenty of those, too. Many people did not believe that we could meet with any more success than the SS Savannah."
"But the Savannah's journey was a success."
"She used her sails for the voyage almost exclusively. We wanted to use the engine to increase the pace of the journey."
"Have you?"
"Yes."
The seam connecting the boiler to the pipe for the escape valve had blown when he had insisted the captain push on with the engine through an abnormally long becalm at sea. The weakened seam was explained when they discovered that some idiot seaman had used salt rather than fresh water to refill the boiler. It had taken precious time and fresh water to rectify that part of the mess. However, without the uses of a competent blacksmith, the engine would be dead weight for the rest of the voyage.
"Then you have succeeded even if you do not return by the specified date."
He turned toward her, wondering at the certainty in her voice. "You think so?"
Her eyes shone with certainty and he had to quickly tamp down the urge to cover her soft lips, parted in exclamation, with his own.
"Oh, yes. Just think, you've done what no one else has been able to do. The SS Savannah didn't pick up cargo. She just carried passengers. But you've done both. You'll be returning to England covered in glory."
He shook his head at her naiveté. More likely he'd be returning with his honor in shreds if the Golden Dragon's captain could not make up for the time lost.
Thea laid the fountain pen down on the ledger and sighed. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to ease some of the tension from her body. Her office on the second floor of the warehouse was quiet, almost too quiet, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
After leaving Drake and his boiler with Jacob, she had returned to the warehouse to check the latest set of ledgers that had arrived on Whiskey Jim's ship. She looked back at the neat columns of numbers and entries.
She had not been mistaken. The discrepancies were well hidden, but they were there. It had not been a onetime mistake as she had hoped. The pilfering was consistent and unmistakable.
If only she knew who was responsible. She cringed at the thought that Uncle Ashby's nephew in the London office had been stealing from the company.
She could not ignore the fact that he hadn't yet responded to her letter inquiring into the discrepancies. Could the letter have been misdirected? Cold invaded her insides at the thought that the letter had made it into the hands of the culprit, that the near-fatal accident in the warehouse earlier was linked in some way.
Drake's was not the only ship in port. Even Whiskey Jim's could have brought an accomplice to the thief down to her island. Ship captains were forced to pick up new sailors in almost every port. It was a rough life, and jumping ship at port of call was all too common. Because of that, a strange sailor found lurking around the warehouse would cause little interest and no concern.
If her near accident had been engineered, that was all the more reason for her to make the trip to England. Uncle Ashby and Aunt Ruth had to be protected, just as her mother had protected her by coming to the West Indies.
Thea looked down at the ledger again, noting the subtlety of the entries.
Did someone besides Uncle Ashby's nephew have enough knowledge and access to the accounts to perpetrate the scheme? She had to find out, and before her partner began to suspect that all was not well. If his nephew were the culprit, Ashby Merewether would be devastated. His already weak heart might give out entirely. She could not face that possibility.
She must do something.