Chapter One

London
August 1815

Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.

Aphra Behn, English playwright
The Rover, Pt. 2, Act 3

"I'll be gone two weeks or more."

Marsden Griffith Knighton watched from the head of the large table as predictable excitement rippled through his staff. The last time Griff had left Knighton Trading helmless for so long, he'd established an office in Calcutta that tripled the firm's profits' and destroyed two of his competitors.

Even Daniel Brennan, his generally unimpressed man of affairs, straightened in his chair. Daniel rarely attended such meetings now that he managed Griff's substantial private interests, but Griff had a compelling reason to require his presence today."Are you leaving Mr. Brennan in charge as usual, sir?" a young trader asked.

"No. He's going with me." When Daniel gaped at him, Griff bit back a smile. Daniel was hard to shock, having been with Knighton Trading since the days when it gained its primary revenue from smuggled goods. "Mr. Harrison will be in charge."

The senior trader beamed at this evidence of preference. "So where are you off to now, Mr. Knighton? France? India?" Greed brightened his eyes. "China perhaps?"

Griff chuckled. "Warwickshire. This isn't a business trip. I have family there."

"F-Family?" Harrison stammered.

Griff could guess his thoughts. But he's a bastard. Except for his poor mother, how could he have any family that would acknowledge him?

"Yes. Family," Griff repeated with fierce satisfaction. "It's a personal matter of some importance." He paused, then continued in that firm tone his staff knew never to quest