Pirate Fantasy, part 4

Chester Hopewell sat back in his gloriously plush desk chair and puffed away on his cigar. He eyed the man who hoped to marry his daughter. "Why should I let you wed her?"

Douglas Redding, Esquire came from new money in America. Something to do with railroads or shipping or something. He was the youngest son in that family, though, and most likely did not stand to inherit much at all. Businesses usually fell upon the eldest sons. He had a weak chin and a lisp.

"Thir, I can athure you your daughter would not want for anything. I will treat her like a queen!" He smiled proudly.

"Why the hell should I care what you can do for that chit? Tell me what you can do for ME!"

Douglass shrank under the older man's intense glare. "Well, I-I-I'm not thure what you mean, thir. My family is quite rethpectable, revered in fact. It thertainly would not hurt your reputathion should our families align."

"Get out, you ninny!" He nodded to his butler. "Send in the next candidate, Collins."

"Right away, Sir." He led Mr. Redding away and announced the next potential groom. "Mr. Jebediah Crabbich."

Mr. Hopewell squinted at the skinny, smarmy old man as he daintily seated himself across from his desk. "And tell me why I should let you marry my daughter."

The older man snickered and licked his lips. "I own several thousand acres of certain medicinal plants, if you take my meaning."

Hopewell sat up straighter and raised his eyebrows. "I think I do." He smiled.

Outside the office, Edward paced in the hallway. He was next. Thankfully, his informant on the island had met with him late last night when they docked in the cove. The man had mentioned the husband interviews and that Hopewell was seeking someone to align his business with. Edward had the perfect proposition, not that he had any intent of making good on it.

Upon hearing that the man apparently had no love for his daughter, Edward decided a disguise was in order. After all, the man surely would not want his daughter to have a happy marriage to a nice gentleman. That idea held more merit when he viewed the trail of men who had left with their tails between their legs. Each one was more hideous than the last.

The butler led out the next man and pointed to Edward. He reached up and adjusted his eye patch, stroked a hand over his facial hair, adjusted his sword and pistol and followed the servant into the lion's den.