“We can deal with your error later, Mr. Ffalkes,” Giana said sweetly. “Pray continue.”
Raymond Ffalkes faltered a moment, but gathered confidence again when Miss Van Cleve did not interrupt him. “—and the projected profit increase, based upon the expanded trade routes, falls in the range of thirty percent, or roughly one hundred thousand pounds per annum.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Ffalkes,” Giana said. “It is our understanding that we can reasonably expect to expand our current shipping to China, not the more profitable India trade. I believe if you will but recheck your figures with that in mind, you will find that the projected increase is closer to fifteen percent, or fifty thousand pounds per annum, accounting, of course, for any improvements Mr. Saxton’s management may make.”
Raymond Ffalkes turned a mottled red. Thomas Hardesty hid his smile behind a quickly pulled handkerchief, wishing Aurora were present to hear her daughter carry out her part. A look of unholy glee lit Drew’s sensitive
face.
“Indeed, Mr. Ffalkes, I believe that if we are to begin our negotiations in earnest,” Giana continued, laying her hands palm down on the table, “I must request that you work with Mr. Engles or Mr. Saxton to correct your estimates. I suggest we adjourn until you have amended your reports. I bid you good morning, gentlemen.”
“Miss Van Cleve.”
Giana drew to a halt at the sound of Alex Saxton’s voice behind her. She turned to look at him, her heart pounding too loudly.
“I believe,” Alex said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “that you and I should discuss this merger over dinner this evening. I will fetch you at eight o’clock.”
To Drew and Thomas’s absolute astonishment, Giana nodded.
“Very astute of you, my dear,” he said, drawing close to her. “There is much, is there not, for us to discuss?”
Chapter 11
Aurora set aside the afternoon edition of the Times and smiled a welcome to her daughter.
Giana forced a smile in return. “You look miraculously recovered, Mama,” she said. She thought her mother looked stunning, in fact, in her tea gown of soft yellow silk, her long hair braided in a coronet atop her head.
“It is fortunate for us the influenza is so very unpredictable, isn’t it, Giana?” Aurora laughed. “Sit down, my love, and tell me all about the meeting and Mr. Saxton.”
Giana walked to a spindle French chair and clutched at its back. She gazed abstractedly for a moment at a vase of exquisite red roses, sent, she knew, by his grace earlier in the day, before looking back at her mother. “The light guns performed well, I think. Another meeting with me, and the gentlemen should be ready for your entrance.”
Aurora frowned at Giana’s subdued voice. Thomas had told her that Giana’s performance had been sterling, and she had expected her to be elated with her success. She noticed Giana was pale, too pale, and her eyes were overly bright. “Did something happen to upset you, Giana?”
“Upset me, Mother? Why, no.” You need not know any of it, Mother, until I know what he wants. “ Raymond Ffalkes hung himself with a bit of assistance from me, just as we knew he would. I adjourned the meeting with queenly scorn, much to Thomas and Drew’s amusement.”
“I would have liked to see Raymond’s reaction to being bested by a twenty-one-year-old girl. And what of Mr. Saxton? What is he like?”
“I believe,” she said carefully, “that he was rather peeved with Ffalkes, but he did not interfere when I adjourned. Actually, everything happened just as we planned, even down to the figures we knew Mr. Ffalkes would use.” She raised wary eyes to her mother’s face. “I am having dinner with Mr. Saxton this evening.”
“You are dining with him,” Aurora repeated, staring at her daughter.
“Yes, Mother.”
Aurora was uncertain how she should respond to this bald announcement. In the past four years, she had watched Giana blossom into a beautiful young lady—the picture of herself, she thought without conceit, when she had been her daughter’s age. But she had refused any social entanglements at all with gentlemen, preferring older men, like Thomas, for her escorts.
“I see,” she said at last. “You like Mr. Saxton, then.”
“We are dining together to discuss American commerce, that is all.”
“I see,” Aurora said again, not seeing at all. “Where are you dining?”
“I don’t know. We did not discuss it.”
“You must have a care, then, Giana. Since Mr. Saxton is not familiar with London, why do you not recommend the Albion or London Taverns? It is ridiculous that a lady may not dine anywhere she pleases in the company of a gentleman, but so it is.”
He would likely take her to Soho, Giana thought, paling. After all, he believed her a whore—why would he not treat her like one?
“I should like to meet Mr. Saxton when he comes for you this evening,” Aurora continued.