Chapter Seventeen
Lord Wickford looked at her for a moment and then gave a little shrug. “The ship that was bringing rum from my estate in the West Indies sank off the coast of Ireland, taking all my liquor down to the bottom of the ocean.”
“Oh no! That’s horrible!” she exclaimed. She could imagine how upsetting that must be.
“It is, indeed, a shame. I wouldn’t be quite so upset about it except it is the conceit of my club that we have the finest rum in all of London. It’s why gentlemen come to Powell’s.” He paused and turned back toward the garden. “Without rum, Powell’s is just another club.”
“Of course, I understand.” Gwendolyn thought hard about what Lord Wickford could do about this. “Have you thought of trying to find another source of rum? Perhaps from a pub or tavern that has p
