brother, Thomas Jourdaine, Jr."
To Anna's surprise, Brodie muttered something soft and sent her a look of genuine sympathy. His pale eyes went gentle and his hard mouth relaxed. She looked away in confusion. "When did it happen?" he asked quietly.
"A year ago. As I told you, Mrs. Balfour's father is ill, almost an invalid now, and most of the burden of running the company had fallen on Nick's shoulders."
"Didn't you tell me there was a cousin?"
"Stephen Meredith. He's second in command under Nick. He takes care of the administrative side of things, the internal housekeeping, so to speak. It was Nick who really ran the shipyard and dealt with the workers face to face."
"Did he design ships?"
"No, but he understood a marine architect's drawings and plans. He could read diagrams."
"He understood shipbuilding from beginning to end," Anna put in, her chin high with pride.
"There wasn't anything worth knowing about the building of ships that Nicholas didn't know."
"My, my," mused Brodie, "when do they canonize him?" He cocked a brow, watching her bristle. "Well, that's wonderful, it truly is, but I've got one question. If my brother knew everything there is to know about building ships, and if you're a lawyer, Mr. O'Dunne, and you're a… " he paused while Anna waited tensely, "a very lovely young lady," he finished, bowing fatuously, "how the hell am I supposed to find out what Nick knew about ships so I can fool people into thinking I'm him? Which one of you is going to teach me?"
"I am," said Anna flatly.
Brodie grinned. "You?"
"I."
He laughed out loud. The sound was so like Nicholas's laugh, her anger never surfaced and she stared, transfixed. "With all due respect, ma'am," he said when he was finished laughing, "I think our little plan is in deep trouble."
O'Dunne started to speak, but Anna's voice rose over his. "Do you, Mr. Brodie?"
"I do, ma'am. I humbly confess I do."
"If that's true," she said silkily, "then I suggest your immediate future is in deep trouble as well. I suggest that if 'our little plan' fails, you'll find yourself back: in prison sooner than you expected. Sooner than you deserve, perhaps, although that seems impossible. In the meantime, you might start trying to remember all you've ever heard about sheer drawings and longitudinal framing and intercostal keelsons, Mr. Brodie. Think about the optimum distance between transverse bulkhead frames in a middle-class merchantship. Consider the difference between a rivet with a countersunk head, chipped flush, and one with a snap head and a conical neck. Aiden, have you finished with your 'objectives'?"
"I… no, I—"
"Well, I'm not able to listen to them any longer. I want to speak with you alone. Occupy yourself with something useful, Mr. Brodie. Read a book." She scooped up the one on the bar and threw it at him. Taken unawares, he barely caught it. She strode to the door and opened it. "Mr. Flowers!" Billy came. "Watch Mr. Brodie."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Come, Aiden."
O'Dunne threw Brodie a look that almost but not quite communicated masculine sympathy. Catching himself, he changed it to one of stern warning. "Stay here until I come back," he ordered, then hurried to catch up with Anna in the hall.
The moon was half-full; by its white light Anna avoided the larger ruts and obstacles in the dirt courtyard and picked her way past brush and hedges to the same fence from which she'd earlier watched the sunset. She paced while she waited for Aiden. When he joined her, she blurted out without preamble, "What can you be thinking of? Do you seriously believe this?" she held her arms out helplessly, unable to think of a word derisive enough, "this
scheme
can work?"
"Yes. I do."
"But you've seen him, you know what he's like."
"He's a lot like Nick."
"He's nothing like him!" she denied hotly. "A resemblance, nothing more! He's uncouth, ill-bred, vulgar. Did you see him" she couldn't bring herself to say a word so indelicate as
spit
, "did you see
To Anna's surprise, Brodie muttered something soft and sent her a look of genuine sympathy. His pale eyes went gentle and his hard mouth relaxed. She looked away in confusion. "When did it happen?" he asked quietly.
"A year ago. As I told you, Mrs. Balfour's father is ill, almost an invalid now, and most of the burden of running the company had fallen on Nick's shoulders."
"Didn't you tell me there was a cousin?"
"Stephen Meredith. He's second in command under Nick. He takes care of the administrative side of things, the internal housekeeping, so to speak. It was Nick who really ran the shipyard and dealt with the workers face to face."
"Did he design ships?"
"No, but he understood a marine architect's drawings and plans. He could read diagrams."
"He understood shipbuilding from beginning to end," Anna put in, her chin high with pride.
"There wasn't anything worth knowing about the building of ships that Nicholas didn't know."
"My, my," mused Brodie, "when do they canonize him?" He cocked a brow, watching her bristle. "Well, that's wonderful, it truly is, but I've got one question. If my brother knew everything there is to know about building ships, and if you're a lawyer, Mr. O'Dunne, and you're a… " he paused while Anna waited tensely, "a very lovely young lady," he finished, bowing fatuously, "how the hell am I supposed to find out what Nick knew about ships so I can fool people into thinking I'm him? Which one of you is going to teach me?"
"I am," said Anna flatly.
Brodie grinned. "You?"
"I."
He laughed out loud. The sound was so like Nicholas's laugh, her anger never surfaced and she stared, transfixed. "With all due respect, ma'am," he said when he was finished laughing, "I think our little plan is in deep trouble."
O'Dunne started to speak, but Anna's voice rose over his. "Do you, Mr. Brodie?"
"I do, ma'am. I humbly confess I do."
"If that's true," she said silkily, "then I suggest your immediate future is in deep trouble as well. I suggest that if 'our little plan' fails, you'll find yourself back: in prison sooner than you expected. Sooner than you deserve, perhaps, although that seems impossible. In the meantime, you might start trying to remember all you've ever heard about sheer drawings and longitudinal framing and intercostal keelsons, Mr. Brodie. Think about the optimum distance between transverse bulkhead frames in a middle-class merchantship. Consider the difference between a rivet with a countersunk head, chipped flush, and one with a snap head and a conical neck. Aiden, have you finished with your 'objectives'?"
"I… no, I—"
"Well, I'm not able to listen to them any longer. I want to speak with you alone. Occupy yourself with something useful, Mr. Brodie. Read a book." She scooped up the one on the bar and threw it at him. Taken unawares, he barely caught it. She strode to the door and opened it. "Mr. Flowers!" Billy came. "Watch Mr. Brodie."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Come, Aiden."
O'Dunne threw Brodie a look that almost but not quite communicated masculine sympathy. Catching himself, he changed it to one of stern warning. "Stay here until I come back," he ordered, then hurried to catch up with Anna in the hall.
The moon was half-full; by its white light Anna avoided the larger ruts and obstacles in the dirt courtyard and picked her way past brush and hedges to the same fence from which she'd earlier watched the sunset. She paced while she waited for Aiden. When he joined her, she blurted out without preamble, "What can you be thinking of? Do you seriously believe this?" she held her arms out helplessly, unable to think of a word derisive enough, "this
scheme
can work?"
"Yes. I do."
"But you've seen him, you know what he's like."
"He's a lot like Nick."
"He's nothing like him!" she denied hotly. "A resemblance, nothing more! He's uncouth, ill-bred, vulgar. Did you see him" she couldn't bring herself to say a word so indelicate as
spit
, "did you see
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