The Samurai That I Loved

第57章

Radford was growing irate. Money was disappearing fast due to the excessive investments he had made with foreign merchants, yet Hopkins and Yoru assured him they would see the fruit of their labor in all due time. Aside from the initial goods traded, he had seen no further product traded in return for his wares. Although the wheat, sugar and tea he exported were far from passable, he doubted his partners were bright enough to even question his merit, let alone check the barrels of each and every shipment. No, if anyone was losing money, it would soon be them.

All his business troubles aside, he also had another distasteful issue to be burdened with. His incorrigible brat of a wife, Eliza, was missing. The lack of her presence was fine- albeit irksome as it was out of his control- but what infuriated him to an apoplectic degree was the vast amount of funds he was wasting in order to find her.

Half of London's bow street runners were on the hunt for Lady Dorn and yet, fantastically somehow not a single one of them could locate the mangled chit. It was baffling. How hard could it be to track down a red-headed woman with a wooden hand? And unlike many of the other ladies of nobility, her hair was not a ravishing auburn or even a coquettish strawberry-blonde. No, his wife's hair just had to be the veritable oddity of vermillion in its natural habitat!

Despite her deplorable features, her sudden desire for an annullment also enraged him. For a long time coming, he had waited and feared for this moment. He was always watching other lords- far weaker men, that was to say- lose their control over their own wives as the midturn of the century paved way to new-fangled styles, ideas and "liberation" amongst the fairer sex. There were women writers, artists, and godforbid even business owners. It was appalling and dangerous: a dastardly descent into chaos and the end of mankind's structure as he knew it.

If she believed she could leave and keep her fortune entirely to herself as stated in her dowry by her damn mother, she was a fool indeed.

He pondered these woeful facts as he pulled up to Y & H Tradings near the foggy docks of the city. Gulls cawed overhead and the sounds of waves crashing against wooden vessels were like distant echoes. The air smelled of fresh salty spray and...fish. The cobblestone street wove in a half-oval, lined with brick and mortar buildings with chimneys puffing black soot into the sky from the rooftops.

Stepping down from the carriage step, he paused and inhaled the many aromas with a scrunched nose. A pelican suddenly swooped down from overhead and plopped a fresh mound of feces on the top of his gleaming Hessian boot. An insulted gasp escaped his pasty lips at the same time the warmth permeated through the black leather.

Jerking his gaze down at the poopoo then up to the pelican flying away, he scowled and barked out, "A fine afternoon to you too, you wretched beakbrain!" Cursing beneath his breath, he flicked his boot before stomping up the steps to the company door.

~•~

Yoru and Hopkins waited in silence inside the spacious office overlooking the docks. From the large bay windows, ship masts and sails could be seen rippling in the salty wind over a wash of azure blue. Hopkins leaned against the mantle with a cup of tea in hand, his eyes occasionally flicking up from his drink to Yoru. Sitting comfortably against the window sill with arms crossed over his chest, Yoru watched the ships drift in and out of port with an unreadable expression on his face.

He looked nearly unapproachable with his raven hair swept back into a top knot and two knives settled on his hips. His black satin cravat blended against a black vest and brown coat. However Hopkins knew from the gleam in his eyes that he was actually grinning inwardly at the upcoming meeting they would have with Lord Dorn.