"The Council members and the other big landowners are doubtless thinking to try and force out the smaller freeholders, who'll not have a sugarworks and therefore be at their mercy." She began to toy deliberately with her glass, uncomfortable at the prospect she was describing. "It's really quite simple, Captain. I'm sure you can grasp the basic principles of commerce . . . given your line of work."
"No little fortunes? just a few big ones?" Oddly, he refused to be baited.
"You've got it precisely. But what does that matter to you? You don't seem to care all that much what happens to our small freeholders."
"If that's true, it's a sentiment I probably share with most of the people who were at this table tonight." He raised the empty flask of kill-devil and studied it thoughtfully against the candle. "So if Briggs and the rest are looking to try and take it all, then I'd say you're in for a spell of stormy weather here, Miss Bedford."
"Well, their plans are far from being realized, that I promise you. Our Assembly will stand up to them all the way."
"Then I suppose I should wish you, and your father, and your Assembly luck. You're going to need it." He flung the empty flask crashing into the fireplace, rose, and moved down the table. The light seemed to catch in his scar as he passed the candle. "And now perhaps you'll favor me with the next dance."
She looked up, startled, as he reached for her hand.
"Captain, I think you ought to know that I'm planning to be married."
"To one of these rich planters, I presume."
"To a gentleman, if you know what that is. And a man who would not take it kindly if he knew I was seen with you here tonight."