“One thing the navy discovered while fighting Bonaparte was that citrus fruits, like oranges and limes, prevent scurvy. Our sailors stayed healthier than the French thanks to a regular supply of lemon juice and fruit. The Americans call our sailors ‘Limeys’ now because of it.” She glanced up at him. “After reading Dr. Lind’s Treatise on Scurvy I decided to adopt it as a health measure on my own ships. I haven’t lost a man to scurvy in three years.”

“That sounds like thrilling bedtime reading,” he mocked gently. “I applaud the care you take for your crew members, but I truly believe I’d rather read a whole volume of Mr. Pettigrew’s verses than a medical treatise on scurvy.”

Benedict shook his head as he tried to reconcile the vibrant, multifaceted woman beside him with the first impressions he’d made of her. He’d imagined she would turn out to be a prim, haughty, ice princess with no care for anything except the cost of her gown and the elevated title of her next dance partner. He couldn’t have been more wrong. She was astonishing. Her natural aptitude for the scientific and mathematical was as delightful as it was surprising. He admired her business-like brain, her sharp wit, and the fearsome intellect that challenged him on so many levels. She was in her element here, he realized, surrounded by the cutthroat hustle and bustle of trade.

She didn’t need to work. She could have done nothing with her life and lived off the interest of her fortune, wallowing in luxury in the safety of Grosvenor Square. Instead, she’d chosen to take on the challenge of running a business, to prove her mettle in an overwhelmingly male-dominated environment. His respect for her went up another notch.

He shouldn’t be surprised, though. War had shown him that people were rarely what one expected. He’d seen huge brawny fellows full of braggadocio before a battle cowering and whimpering like puppies by the side of their canon when the battle was in full flow. And he’d seen a skinny drummer boy, pale with fright, bend and pick up the fallen colors and face the enemy with a bellow of defiance. It was what a man—or woman—did when they were tested that showed their true worth.

He’d proved himself during the war. Despite the gut-wrenching, ball-tightening fear, the horror and misery of countless battles, he’d come out of it as a man secure in his ability to face adversity. Georgie wanted to prove that she was worthy of her fortune, of carrying on her father’s legacy. She was doing an admirable job.

She was responsible for the welfare of not just her immediate family, but for the hundreds of other people who relied on Caversteed Shipping for their livelihoods, and yet she shouldered the weight of that responsibility with apparent ease.