BARONS OF THE BRANDYWINE
In a chair overlooking the night-enshrouded city of Wilmington, a middle-aged man sat amidst the sound of tinkling glasses as waiters drifted by winking to each other in clandestine code. He looked like any businessman, dressed in a simple suit with a tie striped a bit too broadly, his brown hair swept back from a broad brow in the no-nonsense style typical of his family, his face florid but friendly. Only the nervous deference paid his presence gave any hint of the extraordinary. But Edward du Pont* was no ordinary man. And this night, in Wilmington’s newest private club, he was observing the promise of a most unusual summer.
His dark eyes pierced the glass of the picture window, scanning the constellation of the ...