Priceless by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

Parliament and the king?”
    “That they are. But with so many small companies mucking about, siphoning the investments from the South Sea Company, George Hanover is getting alarmed.” Walpole’s familiarity mixed with contempt for the German ruler who’d accepted the English throne.
    Lord Gaynor looked puzzled. “The king? Why should the king care about the South Sea Company?”
    “Investments, my dear man. Investments.” Adam stretched out his leg, rubbing his thigh. “How do you think the South Sea Company received permission to push itself on the gullible public with such abandon? John Blunt, the director of the whole nefarious scheme, presented the king with a massive portfolio of stock. As of June eleventh, Parliament will outlaw stock issued by any but companies licensed by…Parliament. The king threw his considerable weight behind that proclamation, you may be sure.”
    Lord Gaynor slapped his glass on the table, slopping wine on the polished surface, objecting, “Fortunes have been made with the South Sea scheme.”
    “Of course. I’ve made a fortune with the South Seascheme.” Adam propped his leg on the ottoman his footman brought him. “The directors of the company have shown a remarkable talent in manipulating the market. But mark my words, Lord Gaynor, this is a short-term investment. There’s no profit within the company to back such wild speculation. The project will burst in a while and drag down every poor sop who’s invested with it.”
    “If you’ve invested in the South Sea Company, best to listen to your son-in-law,” Walpole advised. “The man has his thumb on the pulse of the stock market in London. No one knows more than Adam.”
    His interested gaze on some distant object, Lord Gaynor nodded.
    Satisfied, Walpole asked, “How long do you give the company before it goes down, Adam?”
    “I’m watching it.”
    “Adam….” Walpole laughed. “Cautious man. I say November.”
    Adam shook his head in negation.
    “Longer?”
    “No.”
    “Oh, come, Blunt will keep it together until the cold weather, at least.”
    “If you say so, Robert.” Adam stood, wincing. “Shall we join the ladies?”
    Knowing he’d not pry any other commitment from Adam, Walpole stood and jostled Lord Gaynor’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Must join the ladies. Leg bothering you, Adam?”
    “A bit.” Adam straightened and reached for his malacca cane.
    “That’s what you get for catching a Spanish cannonball.”
    “Nothing so dramatic,” Adam said. “Only the bits of deck where it hit.”
    “Damned Spaniards.”
    “Not at all.” After leading them to the drawing room, he stood aside to let them precede him. “The wealth carried on that one Spanish ship was the hen that laid my golden egg.”
    Walpole slapped Adam’s back as he passed. “Yes, and you’ve been squeezing the poor chicken ever since. I can hear it squawking clear down at my country home.”
    “Norfolk’s so dull, a little squawking would…” Adam’s voice trailed off as he surveyed the placid occupants of the drawing room. “Where’s my mother?”
    Walpole lifted his hands in wonderment.
    Alarm shot through Adam. “My God, where’s Bronwyn?” Not that he cared for the silly twit, but his genteel mother disapproved of his cold method of choosing a bride. He’d seen her strip Walpole of all dignity and courage, and he feared it would be a poor start to a marriage should she do so to Bronwyn.
    Olivia lifted her frightened gaze from her hands, and Lady Nora demanded, “Why?” Ignoring them both, Adam wheeled around, the nagging pain in his thigh forgotten, and headed for Mab’s study. The sight that greeted him there brought him to an abrupt halt.
    The two women sat in the light of the candles, sewing. Low and sweet, their voices spoke in harmony. No impatience turned Mab’s mouth down. No fear made Bronwyn’s hand tremble.
    He couldn’t believe it, and his eyes narrowed as he considered the domestic scene.
    His