His lips twitched again as if at some private joke. “Aye. Send it to Mr. Wolff at number ten St. James’s. The Tricorn Club. Compliments of Ben Wylde. He’ll appreciate it.”

Georgie had no idea who this Mr. Wolff was—probably someone to whom this wretch owed a gambling debt—but she nodded and beckoned Pieter over. He took his cue and unfolded the legal document she’d had drawn up. He flattened it on the table next to the ordinary’s pen and ink.

“You must sign this, Mr. Wylde. Ye can read?” he added as an afterthought.

Another twitch of those lips. “As if I’d been educated at Cambridge, sir. But give me the highlights.”

“It says you renounce all claim to the lady’s fortune, except for the five hundred pounds already agreed. You will make no further financial demands upon her in the future.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

The prisoner made a show of studying the entire document, or at least pretending to read it, then dipped the pen into the ink. Georgie held her breath.

Papa’s will had divided his property equally between his wife and two daughters. To Georgie’s mother, he’d left the estate in Lincolnshire. To her sister, Juliet, he’d left the London town house. And to Georgie, his eldest, the one who’d learned the business at his knee, he’d left the fleet of ships with which he’d made his fortune, the warehouses full of spices and silk, and the company ledgers.

His trusted man of business, Edmund Shaw, had done an exemplary job as Georgie’s financial guardian for the past few years, but in three weeks’ time, she would turn twenty-five and come into full possession of her fortune. And according to English law, as soon as she married, all that would instantly become the property of her husband, to do with as he wished.

That husband would not be Josiah.

Despite her mother’s protests that it was vulgar and unladylike to concern herself with commerce, in the past five years Georgie had purchased two new ships and almost doubled her profits. She loved the challenge of running her own business, the independence. She was damned if she’d give it over to some blithering idiot like Josiah to drink and gamble away.

Which was precisely why she’d had Edmund draw up this detailed document. It stated that all property and capital that was hers before the marriage remained hers. Her husband would receive only a discretionary allowance. To date, she’d received seven offers of marriage, and each time she’d sent her suitor to see Mr. Shaw. Every one of them had balked at signing—proof, if she’d needed it, that they’d only been after her fortune.