Julia laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. She was free now, free to marry Henry.
It’s not real! Pomais is a fake! What will members of the ton do now that all their hopes and dreams have been lost? What we really want to know is when is the wedding of the Marquess of H and Lady J? Will it really happen this time?
Henry sat in his solicitor’s office on Cheapside Street with his heart thumping loudly. His head was cluttered with everything he had to get done. He was going to marry Julia.
That was the only thing he could think of. Happiness and peace flowed through him. It had been so long since he had felt anything resembling it that when he woke that morning, he could hardly identify it.
After weeks of waiting for word from Pomais and the elusive Mr. Stanford, there had been some unsettling information. The sounds from the bustling London street were loud in the small office. Although the space was pristine, it was littered with shelves and shelves of books and ledgers, several of which lay open on the desk.
Henry and Elijah sat side by side watching Mr. Harris, the solicitor, rummage around his desk, taking out large books and opening the pages in search of something. They had spent weeks waiting for Mr. Stanford to return. Henry was not beneath hunting the man down and demanding answers. Meanwhile, Harris had hired a Bow Street Runner to find anything suspicious about Mr. White.
Mr. White seemed to be a faithful friend to his uncle, but that didn’t change the fact that he had convinced the fool of a man to invest in Pomais.
Henry released a weary sigh. His leg bounced up and down, ready to finish so he could see Julia. She had pushed aside all of his troubles, his mother, his uncle, his money—none of it mattered because he had her.
She was going to be his forever.
It had been a monumental morning. Henry had submitted a request to the archbishop’s office for a special license to marry. Then he had run to Harris’s office directly after receiving an urgent missive from the solicitor.
Henry rubbed his eyes, his patience running short as he waited for Harris to find whatever he was looking for. Henry needed to get back to Julia and find out how her conversation with St. Clara went. He shifted his body side to side unable to sit still.
Harris held a large atlas out to Henry, who gave the older, more rotund man a dubious look. What did he think Henry would find in an atlas? “Why do I need to look at that?” Although annoyed, Henry’s voice was cheery. He was getting married.
When he had returned to London, he thought there was nothing worse than finding himself penniless and without a home. Being without Julia turned out to be more devastating than anything he had ever imagined, but that was in the past. Now their future was eagerly awaiting them, and Henry knew they would be happy.
“Do you see here?” Mr. Harris’ words jolted Henry to attention. He sat up straighter and leaned closer to the page in front of him.
“Yes.” Henry focused on Harris’ finger, which pointed to a large body of water.
“That is where Pomais should be.” Harris sat back in his chair, his round sturdy form causing it to creak unsteadily.
Elijah stood to peer at the book, his fingers trailing over the map pensively. “There’s nothing but water for miles. If this is Pomais, what was Henry’s uncle investing in?”
“I don’t understand, my uncle and Mr. White had detailed maps of Pomais.”
“Yes, it seems like those maps were fake. There is land here, but it is a very small jungle.” He paused, looking up at the men before he continued. “Word has reached the crown from British Honduras that Stanford was never a cacique and only forty out of the two hundred settlers survived. Archibald Stanford is nothing more than a common thief.” Harris entwined his beefy fingers as he looked from Elijah to a silent Henry. “An investigation has been started on Mr. Stanford and Mr. White.”
Henry’s head shot up at the mention of his uncle’s friend. “Mr. White?” He placed the atlas back on Harris’ crowded desk.
“Yes. Mr. Stanford and Mr. White have been working together for over ten years. They have traveled and gathered funds from people desperate to escape their lives one way or another. However, this time turned out to be deadly for the two hundred people that left London Harbor over six months ago.” Harris leaned forward.
Henry rubbed his face, wishing that he could travel back to last night and the blissful happiness of Julia’s arms.
Pomais wasn’t even real?His uncle had lost all of their available funds for nothing. He had given everything away to a dream that didn’t exist.
“Where is Mr. Stanford now?” Henry choked out, angry at the man’s audacity to take advantage of people. He would like to teach the lying crook a lesson.
“Paris, where he had been gathering more investors for Pomais. He has since been detained and will be transported back to London.” Harris restacked the ledgers on his desk at an attempt to clear the chaos.
“How is this possible? You can’t invent an entire country,” Elijah said, bewildered.
Henry thought the exact same thing. What sort of people were his mother and uncle dealing with?
“With White’s familial connections through his wife, I’m afraid it was rather easy.” Harris stood and straightened his waistcoat.
“What’s going to happen to the funds they stole from me?” The words came out harsher than Henry intended. His body was taut from barely restrained anger.
What the hell was his uncle thinking, trusting those people?
