His eyes roamed her face, and her heart skipped a beat. “I’d prefer to be associated with something a little more exotic,” Georgie managed. She waved her hand at the surrounding shelves. “Like ambergris and sandalwood, jasmine and kohl.” Scents that could seduce and stupefy the senses. She wanted to be the type of woman who had that effect, who made men dizzy, who could bring a man like Wylde to his knees.

She almost snorted aloud. Some hope.

She cleared her throat. “Tea imports are some of my most profitable shipments. We trade British woolens and Indian cottons for Chinese tea, porcelain, and silk.”

“Do you import opium?”

“No. The East India Company does, though.” She frowned. “I understand from Mr. Pettigrew that poets like Byron use it for inspiration, but I can’t say I’m convinced. I suspect it’s one of the reasons my cousin is in such debt. Have you ever tried it?”

“Never smoked it. But I was given laudanum when I was wounded in my shoulder. It helped with the pain, but not with my dreams. It made them even worse, even more vivid.” He stopped abruptly, and a flush crept up his neck as if he were embarrassed to have revealed such a human failing.

“Do you recall unpleasant things from the war?” Georgie ventured cautiously.

“Sometimes. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t really think about it much, but sometimes, when I’m asleep, or very tired, memories come back to me, so real I think I’m back there.” He shrugged. “I can understand why some men might want to drug themselves in an effort to gain oblivion, but I’m not sure it’s the best way to deal with it. A life spent half asleep isn’t much of a life at all. I’m glad you don’t sell it.”

“Yes, well, there are equally profitable cargoes that don’t endanger people’s health.” Georgie waved a hand at the goods on either side. “Like silk. Velvet. Glass.”

The existence of her fortune always provoked fierce and conflicting emotions in her breast. When she’d come out, aged sixteen, and found herself instantly popular with the gentlemen, she’d been flattered—until she realized they were only after her money. She’d found it hard to make female friends too. Her peers had resented her ability to afford expensive jewels and gowns and spread jealous gossip about her.

Georgie had spent years wondering how she would ever know if a man really loved her.