"The captain has a reputation for smashing bottles of whiskey over the heads of unruly sailors," Thea explained.
"That wouldn't bother the lads so much, but I deduct it from their daily ration of spirits."
"I can see the captains of my ships could learn a thing or two from you."
Whiskey Jim winked at him. "That they could, my boy. That they could."
Thea poured Drake tea while waiting for Uncle Ashby to return to the office. Drake's nearness unnerved her, and the hand holding the teacup shook slightly. When they had entered the office, Thea sat down on the settee expecting Drake to take one of the available chairs. He had surprised her by folding his large body onto the sofa beside her.
Worse, he sat in complete silence, watching her movements with impassive brown eyes as someone might watch a butterfly caught in a jar. Well, she was no green girl to be intimidated by a silent stranger.
She handed him his tea. "Do you have a ship in the harbor, Mr. Drake?"
He took the china cup and saucer, making the action appear elegant yet wholly masculine. "Yes. The Golden Dragon."
Thea shifted so that her legs were not so near Drake's. "I see. You need something for your ship from Mr. Merewether?"
She wondered if Drake would rebuff her interest as he had earlier.
"Yes."
Stifling an irritated sigh, Thea tried again. "Mr. Drake, perhaps if you told me what it is you need, I could procure it for you. You did say the matter was of the utmost urgency."
If it were indeed urgent, he would overcome his obvious reluctance to do business with a woman.
Drake leveled a look at her that made her insides melt in the most peculiar way. "Miss Merewether, urgent as my business is, it will wait until your father arrives to handle the matter."
Her father? "You are mistaken. Mr. Merewether is my associate, not my parent."
Drake's dark angel countenance became coolly dismissive. "Nevertheless, I prefer to deal with your associate."
The cold rejection did nothing for her rapidly deteriorating mood. His behavior had bordered on the offensive since the moment of their meeting, and though she recognized that her own actions had earned her a share of the blame, she had no desire to remain in his company.
She had her own matters of import to look into. Not least of which was the possibility that the accident in the warehouse had been anything but.
Thea carefully set her tea down. "As you have no interest in discussing your business with me, I'm sure you will understand if I leave you to wait for my partner while I attend to other matters."
She was being rude and perhaps even a trifle unprofessional. Both Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ashby would scold her if they knew, but Thea was past caring. Like her mother before her, Thea had as much to do with the success of Merewether Shipping as Uncle Ashby, perhaps more. That this man refused to even discuss his needs with her infuriated Thea.
She wasn't sure why. She had learned long ago to dismiss the ignorance of men. Too many could not believe a woman was capable of applying her mind to more than household management and filling the nursery, particularly men from her home country, England.
For some unknown reason, Drake's dismissal was different.
Thea could not make herself ignore his refusal to discuss business with her, nor could she stand to sit next to his intensely masculine body for one more second.
She stood. "Good day, sir."
Drake met her eyes, and his brown gaze held her in place despite her intention to leave. "Your partner may be used to allowing his paramour to conduct his business, but I deal only with principles."
He could not mean what she thought he meant. It was impossible. She had known arrogant men to jump to conclusions about her intelligence, but never her morals.
"Did you just call me Uncle Ashby's paramour?" In her anger, she slipped into the more familiar address. It was not professional to call one's business partner uncle.
Drake's expression registered confusion. "He is your uncle?"
Thea did not relax her furious stance one bit. "He is my business partner."
Drake stood and took a firm grip on her upper arms all in one fluid motion. His glare singed her. "Is he your uncle?"