The Taste of Innocence Read Online Free PDF Page B

the task.
    “Infrastructure is currently my principal area of interest, certainly in the sense of looking ahead, in terms of speculative investments. Most of the funds I manage—my own as well as the family’s—are in safe and solid stocks and bonds, but that type of investment requires little time or acumen to oversee. It’s the new ventures that excite me. Dealing in that arena is more demanding, making success more rewarding, in both monetary terms as well as satisfaction.”
    “Because there isn’t any danger in the safe and secure—the other has more risk, so it’s therefore more challenging?”
    He glanced at her. She met his eyes, her brows arching in question. He nodded and looked back to his horses, just a touch unnerved that she’d seen that quite so clearly.
    Still, if she were to be his bride, such understanding would only help.
    They rattled through Williton. A little way on, he drew rein on a wide bend in the road, and they looked down on the port of Watchet.
    It was a bustling small town, the houses forming embracing arms around the docks and wharves that were the focus of town life. The docks ran out into deep water; the wharves ran along the shoreline, connecting them. Immediately behind stood rows of ware houses, all old but clearly in use.
    Beyond the western end of the town, between the last houses and the cliffs that rose to border the sea, a shelf of land was in the process of being cleared and leveled.
    “You said you had interests in the ware houses here.” Sarah glanced at him. “In which set of investments do they fall—the safe, sure, and unexciting or the risky and challenging?”
    He grinned. “A bit of both. With the industries and mills in Taunton expanding, and those in Wellington, too, the future growth of Watchet as a port is assured. The next nearest is Minehead.” He nodded to the west. “Not only farther away, but with the cliffs to manage.” He looked back at the port below, at the rigging of the ships at anchor, at the steel-green waves of the bay and the Bristol Channel farther out. “Watchet will grow. The only questions are by how much, and how soon. The risk comes in balancing how much to invest against the time needed to make an acceptable return.”
    The grays stamped, impatient to get on. The road leading down was well graded with no overly steep sections, perfect for the heavy wagons that trundled down to the docks, disbursed their loads of cloth or fleeces, then took on the wines and wood off-loaded from the ships.
    Charlie checked that no large dray was on the upward slope, then flicked the reins and sent the grays down.
    He drove into the town and turned in under the arch of the Bell Inn. They left the horses in the reverent care of the head ostler, who knew Charlie well. Her hand on Charlie’s arm, Sarah walked beside him into the High Street.
    What followed was a minor education into the business of Watchet port. Charlie’s man on the ground was part shipping agent, part landlord’s agent; he matched the available ware house space with the cargoes coming in and out of the town, passing through the docks.
    Sarah sat in a chair alongside Charlie’s and listened as Mr. Jones reviewed the dispositions of goods in the ware houses Charlie owned. All were close to full, earning Charlie’s approbation.
    “Now.” Jones leaned forward to lay a sheet of figures before Charlie. “These are the projections you wanted on the volumes needed to make a go of any new ware house. They’re well within range of what we’re likely to see coming through within a year.”
    Charlie picked up the sheet, rapidly scanned the figures, then peppered Jones with questions.
    Sarah listened intently; Charlie had explained enough for her to follow his tack—enough for her to appreciate the risk and the potential reward.
    When ten minutes later they left Jones, she smiled and gave him her hand, aware of the speculation her presence by Charlie’s side had sparked.
    From Jones’s