5. The Last Will
Five
The Last Will
T he Sullivan Shipping offices were busy with yet another crisis that threatened to cripple their operations entirely.
Maps and charts covered the large table that dominated the main planning room, their surfaces marked with red lines that traced blocked routes and dangerous passages.
Kate stood on one side of the table while Mr. Moore occupied the opposite position.
He had maintained his formal appearance—waistcoat and cravat perfectly arranged despite the intensity of their work—but his focus was entirely on the problem before them.
Several clerks hovered nearby with notebooks, waiting for instructions as Kate marked another compromised trade route with her red pencil.
“The French blockade extends to here now,” she said, tapping the map with frustration. “Our usual routes are completely cut off.”
Mr. Moore studied the markings, his eyes tracing the patterns of maritime warfare that had transformed their business landscape. “What if we go north? Through Norwegian waters?”
“In winter?” Kate’s skepticism was evident. “The ice—”
“Should have receded by the time we’d sail,” he interrupted smoothly. “And the Russians are desperate for English goods since Napoleon’s embargo.”
Kate looked up from the map, her attention caught by the confidence in his voice. She was about to respond when a clerk approached with the timid manner of someone bearing more unwelcome news.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Sullivan, but the partners are asking when your father will return. Mr. Blackwood says decisions of this magnitude require his approval.”
Kate’s jaw tightened, and Mr. Moore caught the flash of anger in her dark eyes before she controlled her expression. “Tell Mr. Blackwood my father is indisposed, and that I speak with his full authority.”
The clerk looked uncomfortable but nodded and hurried away, leaving tension in his wake.
“Your father’s partners don’t appreciate your capabilities,” Mr. Moore observed quietly.
“They tolerate me only because Father insists,” Kate replied. “Once he’s gone…”
She didn’t finish the thought, but the implication was as sharp as a sword waiting to fall. Mr. Moore considered her for a moment.
“Perhaps we should give them something they can’t argue with.”
He moved to another map showing Russian territories. “What if we offered the Russian fleet an agreement regarding our mutual maritime interests? A percentage to them, but guaranteed safe passage for us.”
Kate’s mind immediately grasped the implications and the obstacles. “The Admiralty would never approve direct negotiation with Russia.”
“Not officially,” Mr. Moore agreed. “But your father’s old friend Admiral Kensington might arrange something… unofficial.”
Kate stared at him with new appreciation. “You know my father’s connections remarkably well.”
“I make it my business to understand the influences behind successful enterprises.”
Kate stood silent for several seconds, clearly analyzing every aspect of this suggestion. Then she nodded and said, “Write up the proposal. I’ll take it to Father. If he approves, we approach Kensington together.”
“Together?”
“Unless you’d prefer to claim the idea as your own only?” Kate challenged, watching his reaction carefully.
“I’d never deprive you of credit justly earned, Miss Sullivan.”
“Then together it is.”
Kate glanced at the hovering clerks. “That will be all for now. We’ll send for you when needed.” The clerks filed out, leaving them alone in the planning room.
Then, Kate rounded the table, approached Mr. Moore and extended her hand to him, as she would to any business associate, a gesture of equality that few men in her experience had been willing to accept.
Mr. Moore looked down to where her hand waited, and hesitated. Why was he hesitating? Thought Kate, but any of her assumptions were close enough to the truth.
Mr. Moore’s eyes went up again to meet her gaze directly, as he placed his hand very carefully on hers, squeezing it with what Kate felt like a delicate touch. Too delicate, perhaps.
She felt the oddness of the contact immediately and couldn’t help but to study their joined hands with curiosity.
Mr. Moore’s fingers were slender, elegant, with skin unusually smooth for someone who claimed rough business experience.
A thin silver band adorned his pinky finger, delicate jewelry that seemed incongruous with masculine fashion.
“You have very soft hands, Mr. Moore,” she said with genuine puzzlement in her voice. “That’s…”
Mr. Moore withdrew his hand then, tucking it into his pocket with a flash of alarm that he immediately masked with a smile. “A consequence of my upbringing, I’m afraid. My mother insisted on proper care, even for a boy. Said roughness was no virtue at all.”
Kate continued staring at him, noting the clean-shaven cheeks that seemed almost unnaturally smooth. Her eyes lingered longer than social convention allowed.
“How… progressive of her,” she said finally.
Mr. Moore’s response was timely interrupted by a loud commotion that erupted from the front office—raised voices and the sound of someone pushing past protesting clerks.
Blackwood burst into the room, his imposing figure radiating indignation, followed by nervous clerks trying to manage the situation.
“Miss Sullivan! This Aberdeen route change will cost us thousands! Your father never would have—”
He stopped short upon noticing Mr. Moore.
“Sir, forgive the intrusion. I wasn’t aware Miss Sullivan had… company.”
Mr. Moore said nothing, allowing Kate to handle the situation. A choice that did not go unnoticed.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she said with cool authority, “may I present Mr. Jason Moore. Father’s newest investment partner.”
Mr. Moore inclined his head with politeness. “Mr. Blackwood.”
“Partner?” Blackwood’s confusion was evident. “Edward mentioned no partnership.”
“It’s quite recent,” Kate replied smoothly, searching for the company documents on her desk and offering them to the furious newcomer.
“And timely. Mr. Moore has provided a solution to our Baltic problem—a negotiation with the Russian fleet for protected passage. Far from losing thousands, we stand to gain considerably.”
Blackwood’s frown deepened. “This is highly irregular. The Russian connection alone—”
“Precisely why Edward Sullivan brought me in,” Mr. Moore interrupted, with such conviction in his voice and words that Blackwood’s objections faltered instantly. He stared fixedly at him. “My family has done business with the Russian court for generations.”
Kate felt a moment of admiration for the smooth confidence of the lie. “Father trusts Mr. Moore implicitly. As do I.” When Blackwood said nothing, looking from one to the other with his nose crinkled, Kate added, “Perhaps you should trust him, too.”
Blackwood looked between them a little longer, clearly struggling with the disruption to his expectations. He ignored the papers Kate was offering him altogether. “Put the proposal in writing and I’ll consider it. But I still wish to speak with Edward directly.”
“Of course,” Kate agreed. “When his health permits.”
Blackwood grumbled and turned to leave.
After his departure, Kate and Mr. Moore exchanged a look of shared triumph.
“That was—” Mr. Moore began.
“Rather exhilarating,” Kate finished.
“I was going to say ‘effective.’ You handled him masterfully.”
“We handled him,” Kate corrected. “Your Russian connection fabrication was inspired.”
“How do you know it was a fabrication?”
Kate’s smile held genuine amusement. “Because I actually do know everyone Father has done business with in Russia. And your surname appears nowhere.”
Mr. Moore smiled as well.
“It seems we work well together, Mr. Moore.”
“Indeed we do, Miss Sullivan.”
* * *
Night had settled over the Sullivan estate like a heavy blanket, while in Edward’s bedchamber, the atmosphere was one of quiet vigil.
Kate sat beside her father’s bed, reading shipping reports aloud by the light of flickering candles.
Edward lay pale against his pillows, his breathing labored but his attention focused on her voice.
“Shipments increased by twelve percent despite adverse conditions,” Kate read, glancing up to gauge his response. “Although we continue to suffer considerable financial losses due to the French attacks.”
Edward’s eyes were closed, but when she paused, he spoke without opening them. “I’m listening, Kate. The Aberdeen route.”
Kate smiled and continued reading, finding comfort in the familiar rhythm of business details. When she reached the last page she set it aside and took up Mr. Moore’s proposal from the stack beside her. She was quiet for a moment before she began to read.
Edward noticed the pause. “What is it?”
“Mr. Moore made a proposal for the blockade situation.” She smoothed the page.
“Did he now?” Edward opened his eyes then.
“He’s suggesting we approach the Russian fleet through an unofficial channel. A percentage of the cargo value in exchange for guaranteed safe passage through the northern routes. He’s already identified a contact through Admiral Kensington.”
Edward was quiet for a moment, looking past her, clearly thinking.
“Read it for me,” Edward said. “Slowly.”
She did.
When she finished, Edward was silent long enough that she thought he might have drifted. Then, he said, “He’ll lose half the partners with that proposal. They’ll call it reckless.”
“It is reckless,” Kate confirmed.
“Yes.” The faint suggestion of a smile crossed his face. “It also might work.”
Kate looked down at the pages in her hand.