“Let’s go another round.” Jasper St. David motioned to the comely serving girl as she bustled past their corner table, a tray and pitcher in hand. The clock hadn’t struck nine and the less than respectable tavern where he celebrated with his comrades offered hours of inane idleness.
“You’ve spent your coin on the last three. I’ll pay this time.” Benedict Hampden, Viscount Kellaway, drained his ale and spun the tankard on the tabletop with a quick flick of the wrist before trapping the glass under his palm and righting it. “I suppose new money burns a hole in one’s pocket so feel free to settle the dinner tab.”
“We’re celebrating,” Jasper admonished. “And I’ve every right. Having suffered months of penny-pinching under my brother’s perspicacious scrutiny, wealth offers freedom in spades.”
“Tread with care,” Oliver Nicholson, a loyal friend, chimed in. “You’ve just signed an annual lease on upper Bond Street. You’re about quality now. The monthly payments are sure to impact your finances.”
“Minuscule worries, at most.” Jasper finished off what remained in his glass before snapping his eyes across the room in search of more drink. “The office opens to business next week. Everything has proceeded swimmingly, although I haven’t met the tenant abovestairs. The landlord mentioned some type of charitable organization leased the adjoining space. I can only hope it doesn’t equate a coven of mawkish old biddies coming and going while I confer with clients.”
“Now that would prove challenging. How is Dashwood handling your new venture? Isn’t he affronted you’ve chosen to operate a financial advisement business? It’s hardly the expectation of the brother to an earl, most especially a wealthy, somewhat troublesome brother whose elder is a prime twig.” Kellaway’s raised brows expressed undisguised speculation.
Oliver leaned closer as if anxious for Jasper’s response, though the conviviality of a nearby table combined with the clatter of plates and silverware annihilated any hope of carefree conversation within the crowded establishment.
“Convenient of you to omit your involvement with said conundrums.” Jasper’s answer prompted a smile from both men. “Dash has been cured of pride, despite he worries over reputation and considers me a Jack Pudding; but like many things, timing is key, gentlemen. Dear brother is away on his wedding trip, and I’m not concerned. Once he returns, he’s sure to be about heir-making. Beaufort and I were boiled up to a jelly to find an available office in an ideal location. It was too rare an opportunity to pass.” The words prompted him to straighten his posture and square his shoulders. “Astute perception and daring courage; that, my friends, is what led me to success in my investments. I plan to apply the same acuity to all areas of my life.” He donned a grin as generous as his purse and neglected to voice the inner motivation that fueled his actions more than any other interest.
This venture presented the ideal opportunity to prove to all associates, his brother, the sixth Earl of Dashwood, most especially, that he was responsible and indeed knowledgeable although most everyone considered his new wealth a lark, his investment a stroke of luck more than insightful entrepreneurship.
“And is Beaufort as enthusiastic? He’s already swimming in lard, what desire could he have to join this endeavor?”
“Distraction, mostly, I presume. We’ve been friends since university and fairly inseparable given I’ve come to London.” Jasper dismissed the question with a nonchalant shrug. A few minutes passed in silence and then a server appeared, took their order and scurried away. “It’s amazing what a pocket full of coin can do for respectability. I’ve purchased a keen phaeton, two high-steppers, and an extensive wardrobe in less time than it took to deposit my monthly draft in the bank.”
“Until your brother’s ship docks, then the spending will cease.” Kellaway turned a wry smile.
“Rubbish. Once Dashwood returns, he plans to restore Kirby Park and explore the benefits of newly-wedded bliss. I’m the last person he’d want for company and that serves my purpose well.” He waved off Kell’s concern without further thought, confident he’d never become enamored by the trappings of success and new money.
“I suppose acquiring clients presents the most difficult challenge.” Oliver’s expression grew curious. “What exactly will you do at this business anyway?”
Jasper huffed a hasty breath, his tolerance worn thin. He’d explained his objective twice over and yet for some reason, neither friend considered his venture with serious intent. Either that or they were too kind to mention they believed his approach held little potential for success. “Financial advisement.” He stressed the words as if his life depended on their comprehension. When he received blank stares in return, he gestured with impatience. “Suggesting how a bloke should invest his coin.” The last words came out in a harsher tone than intended, but the need to stress his determination hammered the explanation home.
The serving girl arrived with their ale and while Oliver distributed the tankards across the table, Kellaway dropped a few shillings on her tray. She thanked him with a wink and ample view of her bosom.
“She’s a tempting armful, wouldn’t you say?”
“Were you listening?” Jasper aimed a pointed glare in Kellaway’s direction.
“Of course.” Kell took a swig of ale, although his eyes followed the serving girl’s skirts as she sashayed through the tavern. “You wish to tell people how to spend their money. Good luck with that.”
“It’s advisement.” Frustration caused the words to slice through the raucous chatter surrounding their table. “Investment opportunity so the client will increase personal wealth.”
“What if your advice is wrong? What if the bloke loses all his money and returns to Bond Street to plant you a facer?” This came from Oliver who’d remained noncommittal until his present facetious comment.
“That’s not how it works.” Jasper clenched his teeth to invoke patience, the words forced on a raw scrape of voice.
“Are you sure?” Oliver tossed a pouch of coins onto the wooden tabletop. It settled with a dull thud. “Were I to give you my purse and you bought shares in some hare-brained invention that never reached fruition, I’d be damned angry about it.” He scooped up the pouch and returned it to his pocket. “No disrespect, Jasper.”
The corky comradeship of only minutes before had evaporated and Jasper no longer wished to remain. A sudden need for fresh air and quietude forced him to stand despite he hadn’t touched his fresh drink.
“Where are you going?” his friends objected in tandem.