“I mean to puzzle it out,” he said, “and find a solution for us.”

She smiled then, a sunburst of a smile. “You will make me believe you, against all reason. Very well. Stay or leave, as you choose, of course.”

“I am most certainly not leaving,” he said.

She nodded. “As you wish.” She stepped back a pace: Her chin went up, and her tone became coolly polite. “At present, you are Lord Gordmor’s representative. Kindly be so good as to convey a message to his lordship. You may tell him I speak on behalf of my father, who does not consent to his lordship’s putting a canal through this property. Tell him Mr. Oldridge is inalterably opposed to a canal in the Longledge environs and will fight him with every means at his disposal, both here and, if necessary, in London before Parliament. It would be well to warn his lordship, furthermore, that the Oldridge resources are by no means small. Will you do this for me, sir?”

The abrupt change, the cold, determined tone, took Alistair aback. But only for a moment. He was growing used to being clubbed from behind, and recovered his poise with the speed and agility that practice so often brings.

“Certainly, Miss Oldridge.” He bowed. “Will there be anything else?”

“Not at present,” she said. “If I think of anything, I will send for you.” She gave him a dismissive wave, which was hardly the good-bye he wanted.

But he’d already had more of her than he had any right to. He allowed himself one quick, longing glance at the column against which he’d introduced her to a pleasure far beyond her innocent imaginings.

Then he told himself that he’d more or less insisted on her treating him like an intelligent business representative, and that as Gordy’s representative he’d never expected or wanted special treatment. Moreover, he had already received a great deal more of the romantic variety than he ought.

If he wanted tender good-byes, he’d better earn the right, with marriage. He could not wed until he had the means to support her. This would not happen until he and Gordmor made a success of the mines, which depended on the canal.

In short, this would-be knight in shining armor had several dragons to slay before he could sweep the fair damsel up onto his charger and gallop away.

And so he bade her a polite good day and started away. He’d gone but a few steps when he abruptly turned back, clasped her arms, and gave her one quick, ferocious kiss.

Then, leaving her to totter back against the column, he limped down the hill.

He did not look back, but he smiled.

WHEN Alistair returned to Wilkerson’s, he found Lord Gordmor in the private dining parlor, keeping company with another tankard of ale.

Alistair ordered one for himself. After it had come and the servant departed, he delivered Miss Oldridge’s message.

Gordmor took the news calmly enough. “It is no worse than we expected,” he said. “Better, actually. When you set out from London, we supposed all the landowners were against us. Instead, our foe turns out to be only one of them.” He drank. “All the same, I must insist upon your returning to Town.”

“That is out of the question,” Alistair said.

“Your loyalties are divided,” his friend said. “I know you well enough to know where it must lead. You will try to accommodate opposing interests, which will only drive you mad. You look ill enough as it is. Your parents will wonder why I snatched you from the brink of death in Belgium only to let you be driven mad in Derbyshire. Furthermore, you are supposed to be the London representative. This was how we originally agreed to divide the work, if you recall.”

“My life is always complicated,” Alistair said. “It is time I learnt to manage it.”

“I should like to know what you propose to do this time,” Gordy said. “You have fallen in love with a woman who is determined to destroy us. Or am I mistaken? Perhaps you raced after Miss Oldridge in order to enlighten her regarding the relative merits of locks and aqueducts, or to explain the finer points of puddling.”

It was pointless to dissemble, even if Alistair knew how. Concealing his feelings about a woman, however, was the one form of pretending he’d never mastered.

“You are not mistaken,” he said. “I admit this presents a challenge, but it is one I’m resolved to meet.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but I am determined.”

“Car.”

“I’ll think of something,” Alistair said.

Gordy regarded him for a moment, then shrugged. “What am I thinking, to argue with a Carsington? Very well. As you wish. I have nothing to lose by it. You might lose your mind, but some men are more comfortable doing without one. On the other hand, in the unlikely event you do succeed, you will spare us a great deal of expense and vexation. The longer this business drags on, the more costly it becomes.”

Alistair understood his friend’s hurry. He would have been in a hurry as well, if love hadn’t slowed his mind.

He knew that every delay would give the landowners time to think of objections and raise the price of overcoming them. Beyond a doubt, Mirabel would help her neighbors in this mode of thinking.

“No matter what happens at Wednesday’s meeting, we must press ahead quickly,” Gordy said. “Otherwise, we’re in mortal danger of your lady love burying the parliamentary committee in a blizzard of petitions and counterpetitions.”

Alistair was well aware of this. He knew Mirabel had already communicated with lawyers. In London they’d descend like locusts upon Parliament, where they would spawn swarms of witnesses to testify. Meanwhile, the landowners would have time to discover scores of new accommodations they needed, and the price of property-taking would soar. And along the way, increasing numbers of palms would want greasing.

It would cost a fortune and take forever. He and Gordy hadn’t the fortune or the time.

Alistair had less than ten days to stop the woman he loved from ruining his friend, his brothers, and his last hope for himself.

ON Tuesday afternoon, Lord Gordmor’s agent Thomas Jackson arrived in Stoney Middleton, a village in the High Peak, about fifteen miles from Matlock Bath.

Jackson had served under his lordship during wartime and was rewarded in peacetime with his present position as the viscount’s representative on a number of fronts. He was as deeply devoted to Lord Gordmor as his lordship’s bailiff Caleb Finch was devoted to Caleb Finch. Jackson, however, thought the bailiff’s loyalties were of the same species as his own. He believed, for instance,

that Finch had recently come to the Peak solely to further his master’s interests in any and all ways possible.

This was Jackson’s first and fatal mistake.

That evening he met with Finch at the Star Inn and Post House, to enlist the bailiff’s help in promoting the canal scheme.

“His lordship wants the miners let off, to come to the meeting,” Jackson was explaining after they’d tucked away a hearty supper. “He’d like one or two of the more articulate fellows to say a few words for the canal—how their future livelihoods depend on it, and all the ones depending on them: wives, children, and aging parents.”

“Isn’t a one of them what you call arti-cu-late,” Caleb said. “And I don’t think there’s a one got a wife and wee ones and aging ma and pa.” He lifted his tankard and swallowed. “The old ones has been planted a good whiles by now, rest their pore souls,” he added piously. “Them and a lot of them pore wee babes as don’t get enough to eat nor no medicine when a sickness comes on ’em. But as the cause is just, there mightn’t be no harm in letting on like it was the way you say. All in the good cause.”

And all in a good cause—which was to say, in the cause of Caleb Finch—he went on to blame his lordship’s mine foreman for the present plight of the miners and their families. Caleb cited bad discipline, unsafe practices, poor maintenance, and inefficient methods, etc., etc.

This was because the mine foreman, to Finch’s disgust, had proved an honest, diligent fellow. He’d refused to understand Finch’s hints about one hand washing the other. He had, furthermore, let it be known that he’d heard some dark rumors about Finch’s past in Derbyshire.

It was crucial, therefore, that the foreman be swiftly dismissed and utterly discredited. Finch had dismissed him first thing Monday morning and promptly set about the business of character assassination. The foreman was still reeling from the blow. Finch knew that Jackson would carry the slander to Lord Gordmor before the victim recovered sufficiently for a counterattack.

But this was by no means the most important matter to lay before his lordship’s trusted agent.

Tags: Loretta Chase Carsington Brothers Erotic
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