“I was for a time,” Soren said.
“A time? What does that mean?” Rawlins barked. He motioned for this wineglass to be refilled. The footman also filled Soren’s.
“I sold my commission several years ago.”
“And why?”
“I had other opportunities.”
“What sort of opportunities?”
“I embarked on business,” Soren answered. That statement was met by several blank stares.
“Do you mean trade?” Lady Haddingdon queried. “You sold your commission to work?”
Soren knew their generation would think him odd. His generation would as well, although things were changing. If they knew the complete truth of his life in Canada, they’d be horrified.
He wondered if Cass would be as well. The girl she had been wouldn’t have blinked. But the woman she had become apparently followed the pack.
Or did she? She’d been known for thinking for herself. Now, behind a veneer of bored sophistication, she pretended to be uninterested, but he sensed she listened.
For that reason, he elaborated. “I have investments in Canada. I own a trading post, a store for general supplies, and a tavern. I also started a small shipping company on Lake Huron.”
He was proud of his accomplishments. To his knowledge, he was the first York to make money instead of squandering it. Hence he could set aside his pride to purchase another man’s clothes and not run up more debt. Of course, finding a tailor willing to extend him credit had also been a challenge. Tradesmen were wary of the York name.
“Why would you need to ship things on a lake?” Lady Melrose wondered.
“Lake Huron is larger than the Channel,” Soren explained. He understood how difficult it was for the average Englishman to grasp the vastness of Canada.
“But you are a storekeeper?” Rawlins questioned.
“I HEARD HE IS DONE UP,” Lord Crossley said to Rawlins, indicating with a nod of his head he was speaking of Soren.
“You are speaking too loud,” Lady Melrose chided him.
“WHAT?”
“BE QUIET,” Lady Haddingdon said, a comment that was heard up and down the table. There were twitters here and there. Glances were exchanged.
Soren could have cheerfully wished them all to Hades.
Lady Melrose proved she was indeed attempting to be his angel by saying, “My late husband was good in business. It is one of the things I liked most about him. Tell me, Dewsberry. Are your businesses lucrative?”
“There is the rub. They were starting to do well when I was there to oversee things. Then my father died. I had to return to England and took on a partner.” He kept his story simple. “He is overseeing matters for me; however, with the war... well, one never knows.”
“Your man could be robbing you blind,” Rawlins predicted.
“Possibly.” With Soren’s luck of late, he probably was. Or bankrupting the businesses. “I pray not.”
“Did you see any savages?” the blunt Lady Haddingdon demanded. It was a question all Londoners liked to ask and the one Soren detested the most.
“I knew many natives,” he answered. “I find them intelligent people.”
“I hear they run around half naked. Is that true? Are they all naked?”
“No, they wear clothes.”
“Oh,” was her disappointed response. “I’d like to see one. I hear they are frightfully ugly.”
