Nicholas laughed. “Nothing can be guaranteed when it comes to business, Tulk. You and I both know that. But he has yet to fail me thus far. How do you think I was able to purchase my mother that estate in Southampton?”
The truth was, Nicholas had done well in his investments with Lord Walcott over the years and had used those funds to purchase the estate. But Lord Tulk did not need to know that.
“Of course,” Nicholas added as he sat back in his seat, “if you’ve no interest in this endeavor, I’ve got a list of others who will jump at the chance to earn a great deal of money.”
Lord Tulk stood. “I understand Thompson has a son as unscrupulous as he. Is this true?”
“He does,” Nicholas replied. “Granted, he’s young, but his father has trained him well. Why do you ask?”
The marquess set his glass on a small side table. “I plan on living for a very long time, Dowding, and if Thompson suddenly dies, I’ll be tied to the son. I’d hate to learn that he’s some sort of imbecile his father has put forth as competent. I’ll agree to your terms but on one condition.”
“And what is that?” Nicholas asked.
“Set up a meeting. I’d prefer to meet the father, but I’m also interested in the boy. I realize how difficult it can be to schedule time with Thompson, but if you can produce either the father or son, I’ll sign your documents.”
Nicholas’s heart rose to his throat. “You know how secretive he is, Tulk. To get either to agree is a serious undertaking.”
Lord Tulk shrugged. “Be that as it may, if you wish for me to take part in this scheme of yours, you’ll agree to my terms. If not… well, I’ve no interest in working with someone unwilling to meet me face-to-face. It’s as simple as that.”
“Then, I’ll make it happen,” Nicholas said.
After walking the marquess out, Nicholas nearly collapsed against the door once it was closed. What he had just promised would never happen unless Mr. Thompson had a sudden change of heart. Which was highly doubtful. Even Nicholas had yet to meet the man!
Still, he had to try. Too much was at stake. Therefore, he hurried to his study, penned a correspondence, and sealed it. Donning his coat, he walked out to the portico just as Tibbons approached. Just the man he needed.
“My lord, I was coming to find you,” the driver said. “A messenger just dropped off this letter.”
Nicholas frowned. “Why did he give it to you?”
Tibbons shrugged. “I happened to be outside, I guess.”
“This is for Mr. Thompson,” Nicholas said as he handed Tibbons the letter he had written. “You know where to take it.”
“Yes, my lord,” the driver said, frowning. “Is everything all right? You look a bit peaked.”
Nicholas shook his head. “I’m so close, Tibbons. After all these years, Tulk is on the path to ruin, yet he wants to meet either Thompson or his son. How can I make that happen if the man refuses to see me?”
Tibbons’ frown deepened. “Sounds impossible if you ask me, my lord.”
“I’ve no choice,” Nicholas said. “I must at least make the attempt. Therefore, deliver this letter at once.”
The driver bowed and hurried away. Nicholas gave up long ago trying to convince Tibbons to reveal where he took the correspondences. As long as they were received, that was what mattered.
Returning to his study, Nicholas slid his finger under the nondescript seal and frowned.
My lord,
I’ve thought of you often since leaving the ball, remembering the kiss we shared among other things. Please clear your schedule for tomorrow afternoon, for I will be calling over at noon. Have a bottle of wine ready.
Sincerely yours,
Jenny Clifton
Well, that was rather forward, he thought. Perhaps she was not as upset with him as he had believed.
Sighing, he pushed aside the parchment and returned his thoughts to Mr. Thompson, praying either the father or the son would agree to Lord Tulk’s request.
Chapter Twenty-Two