She simply shook her head. “Nothing else could shock me at this point.”
“Shall we have a Harp?” he asked, playing the gracious host. “It seems appropriate.” Taking their assent for granted, Smythe-White ordered for the table. “Now then, as I said, we did do a bit of smuggling. Tobacco and liquor primarily. But we didn’t have much of a taste for it, and the touring end actually made more of a profit with no risk, so to speak. And as Iris and I were getting on in years, we decided to retire. In a manner of speaking. Do you know the stock game was one of our last? She’s always been keen on antiques, my Iris, so we used the profits from that to buy and stock our little shop.” He winced, smiled sheepishly. “I suppose it’s poor taste to mention that.”
“Don’t let that stop you.” Gray kicked back in his chair as their beer was served.
“Well, imagine our surprise, our dismay, when we received your letter. I’ve kept that post office box open because we have interests in Wales, but the Triquarter thing was well in the past. All but forgotten really. I’m ashamed to say your father, rest him, slipped through the cracks in our reorganization efforts. I hope you’ll take it as it’s meant when I say I found him a thoroughly delightful man.”
Brianna merely sighed. “Thank you.”
“I must say, Iris and I very nearly panicked when we heard from you. If we were connected with that old life, our reputation, the little businesses we’ve lovingly built in the past few years could be ruined. Not to mention the, ah . . .” He dabbed at his lip with a napkin. “Legal ramifications.”
“You could have ignored the letter,” Gray said.
“And we considered it. Did ignore the first. But when Brianna wrote again, we felt something had to be done. The certificate.” He had the grace to flush. “It’s lowering to admit it, but I actually signed my legal name to it. Arrogance, I suppose, and I wasn’t using it at the time. Having it float to the surface now, come to the attention of the authorities could be rather awkward.”
“It’s as you said,” Brianna murmured, staring at Gray. “It’s almost exactly as you said.”
“I’m good,” he murmured and patted her hand. “So, you came to Blackthorn to check out the situation for yourself.”
“I did. Iris couldn’t join me as we were expecting a rather lovely shipment of Chippendale. Admittedly, I got a charge out of going under again. A bit of nostalgia, a little adventure. I was absolutely charmed by your home, and more than a little concerned when I discovered that you were related by marriage to Rogan Sweeney. After all, he is an important man, a sharp one. It worried me that he would take charge.
So . . . when the opportunity presented itself, I took a quick look around for the certificate.”
He put a hand over Brianna’s, gave it an avuncular squeeze. “I do apologize for the mess and inconvenience. I couldn’t be sure how long I’d have alone, you see. I’d hoped if I could put my hands on it, we could put a period to the whole unhappy business. But—”
“I gave the certificate to Rogan for safekeeping,” Brianna told him.
“Ah. I was afraid of something like that. I find it odd he didn’t follow up.”
“His wife was about to have a baby, and he had the opening of the new gallery.” Brianna stopped herself, realized she was very nearly apologizing for her brother-in-law. “I could handle the matter myself.”
“I began to suspect that as well after only a few hours in your home. An organized soul is a dangerous one to someone in my former trade. I did come back once, thinking I might have another go, but between your dog and your hero in residence, I had to take to my heels.”
Brianna’s chin came up. “You were looking in my window.”
“With no disrespectful intent, I promise you. My dear, I’m old enough to be your father, and quite happily married.” He huffed a bit, as if insulted.
“Well, I offered to buy the stock back, and the offer holds.”
“A half pound a piece,” Gray reminded him dryly.
“Double what Tom Concannon paid. I have the paperwork if you need proof.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone with your talent could come up with any paper transaction he wanted.”
Smythe-White let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure you feel you have the right to accuse me of that sort of behavior.”
“I think the police would be fascinated by your behavior.”
Eyes on Gray, Smythe-White took a hasty sip of beer. “What purpose would that serve, really now? Two people in their golden years, taxpayers, devoted spouses, ruined and sent to prison for past indiscretions.”
“You cheated people,” Brianna snapped back. “You cheated my father.”
“I gave your father exactly what he paid for, Brianna. A dream. He walked off from our dealing a happy man, hoping, as too many hope, to make something out of next to nothing.” He smiled at her gently. “He really only wanted the hope that he could.”
Because it was true, she could find nothing to say. “It doesn’t make it right,” she decided at length.
“But we’ve mended our ways. Changing a life is an effortful thing, my dear. It takes work and patience and determination.”
She lifted her gaze again as his words hit home. If what he said of himself was true, there were two people at that table who had made that effort. Would she condemn Gray for what he’d done in the past? Would she want to see some old mistake spring up and drag him back?
“I don’t want you or your wife to go to prison, Mr. Smythe-White.”
“He knows the rules,” Gray interrupted, squeezing Brianna’s hand hard.
“You play, you pay. Maybe we can bypass the authorities, but the courtesy is worth more than a thousand pounds.”
“As I explained—” Smythe-White began.
“The stock isn’t worth dick,” Gray returned. “But the certificate. I’d say that would come in at ten thousand.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” Smythe-White blustered while Brianna simply sat with her mouth hanging open. “That’s blackmail. It’s robbery.
It’s—”
“A pound a unit,” Gray finished. “More than reasonable with what you’ve got riding on it. And with the tidy profit you made from the investors, I think Tom Concannon’s dream should come true. I don’t think that’s blackmail. I think it’s justice. And justice isn’t negotiable.”
“Shall we have a Harp?” he asked, playing the gracious host. “It seems appropriate.” Taking their assent for granted, Smythe-White ordered for the table. “Now then, as I said, we did do a bit of smuggling. Tobacco and liquor primarily. But we didn’t have much of a taste for it, and the touring end actually made more of a profit with no risk, so to speak. And as Iris and I were getting on in years, we decided to retire. In a manner of speaking. Do you know the stock game was one of our last? She’s always been keen on antiques, my Iris, so we used the profits from that to buy and stock our little shop.” He winced, smiled sheepishly. “I suppose it’s poor taste to mention that.”
“Don’t let that stop you.” Gray kicked back in his chair as their beer was served.
“Well, imagine our surprise, our dismay, when we received your letter. I’ve kept that post office box open because we have interests in Wales, but the Triquarter thing was well in the past. All but forgotten really. I’m ashamed to say your father, rest him, slipped through the cracks in our reorganization efforts. I hope you’ll take it as it’s meant when I say I found him a thoroughly delightful man.”
Brianna merely sighed. “Thank you.”
“I must say, Iris and I very nearly panicked when we heard from you. If we were connected with that old life, our reputation, the little businesses we’ve lovingly built in the past few years could be ruined. Not to mention the, ah . . .” He dabbed at his lip with a napkin. “Legal ramifications.”
“You could have ignored the letter,” Gray said.
“And we considered it. Did ignore the first. But when Brianna wrote again, we felt something had to be done. The certificate.” He had the grace to flush. “It’s lowering to admit it, but I actually signed my legal name to it. Arrogance, I suppose, and I wasn’t using it at the time. Having it float to the surface now, come to the attention of the authorities could be rather awkward.”
“It’s as you said,” Brianna murmured, staring at Gray. “It’s almost exactly as you said.”
“I’m good,” he murmured and patted her hand. “So, you came to Blackthorn to check out the situation for yourself.”
“I did. Iris couldn’t join me as we were expecting a rather lovely shipment of Chippendale. Admittedly, I got a charge out of going under again. A bit of nostalgia, a little adventure. I was absolutely charmed by your home, and more than a little concerned when I discovered that you were related by marriage to Rogan Sweeney. After all, he is an important man, a sharp one. It worried me that he would take charge.
So . . . when the opportunity presented itself, I took a quick look around for the certificate.”
He put a hand over Brianna’s, gave it an avuncular squeeze. “I do apologize for the mess and inconvenience. I couldn’t be sure how long I’d have alone, you see. I’d hoped if I could put my hands on it, we could put a period to the whole unhappy business. But—”
“I gave the certificate to Rogan for safekeeping,” Brianna told him.
“Ah. I was afraid of something like that. I find it odd he didn’t follow up.”
“His wife was about to have a baby, and he had the opening of the new gallery.” Brianna stopped herself, realized she was very nearly apologizing for her brother-in-law. “I could handle the matter myself.”
“I began to suspect that as well after only a few hours in your home. An organized soul is a dangerous one to someone in my former trade. I did come back once, thinking I might have another go, but between your dog and your hero in residence, I had to take to my heels.”
Brianna’s chin came up. “You were looking in my window.”
“With no disrespectful intent, I promise you. My dear, I’m old enough to be your father, and quite happily married.” He huffed a bit, as if insulted.
“Well, I offered to buy the stock back, and the offer holds.”
“A half pound a piece,” Gray reminded him dryly.
“Double what Tom Concannon paid. I have the paperwork if you need proof.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone with your talent could come up with any paper transaction he wanted.”
Smythe-White let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure you feel you have the right to accuse me of that sort of behavior.”
“I think the police would be fascinated by your behavior.”
Eyes on Gray, Smythe-White took a hasty sip of beer. “What purpose would that serve, really now? Two people in their golden years, taxpayers, devoted spouses, ruined and sent to prison for past indiscretions.”
“You cheated people,” Brianna snapped back. “You cheated my father.”
“I gave your father exactly what he paid for, Brianna. A dream. He walked off from our dealing a happy man, hoping, as too many hope, to make something out of next to nothing.” He smiled at her gently. “He really only wanted the hope that he could.”
Because it was true, she could find nothing to say. “It doesn’t make it right,” she decided at length.
“But we’ve mended our ways. Changing a life is an effortful thing, my dear. It takes work and patience and determination.”
She lifted her gaze again as his words hit home. If what he said of himself was true, there were two people at that table who had made that effort. Would she condemn Gray for what he’d done in the past? Would she want to see some old mistake spring up and drag him back?
“I don’t want you or your wife to go to prison, Mr. Smythe-White.”
“He knows the rules,” Gray interrupted, squeezing Brianna’s hand hard.
“You play, you pay. Maybe we can bypass the authorities, but the courtesy is worth more than a thousand pounds.”
“As I explained—” Smythe-White began.
“The stock isn’t worth dick,” Gray returned. “But the certificate. I’d say that would come in at ten thousand.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” Smythe-White blustered while Brianna simply sat with her mouth hanging open. “That’s blackmail. It’s robbery.
It’s—”
“A pound a unit,” Gray finished. “More than reasonable with what you’ve got riding on it. And with the tidy profit you made from the investors, I think Tom Concannon’s dream should come true. I don’t think that’s blackmail. I think it’s justice. And justice isn’t negotiable.”
