The moustached man spluttered. “Yes, well, Miss Fairfax is a nice enough girl, in her way, but this isbusiness, Lord Henry.”
“Yes,” Henry answered smoothly. “It is. I’m not sure I take your meaning.”
“Well, Miss Fairfax is, as I say, a nice girl, but she certainly cannot handle running a business like this one.”
“Is that so? I believe she is already doing that, to be frank, on account of poor Mr Fairfax’s bad health. Have you never spoken to Miss Fairfax about the business? You’ll find her quite knowledgeable.”
“No, no, I don’t believe I have… in all truth, sir, I believe it’s better to keep the ladies out of the offices, don’t you think? Once marriage and children inevitably come along, they will lose interest quite rapidly. The ladies don’t altogether have aheadfor business, don’t you find?”
Henry tilted his head to one side. “No, actually. I haven’t found that.”
The man spluttered some more, managed an excuse, then drifted rapidly away. Henry sighed in relief, and pushed on the last few steps to the tea table.
Miss Eleanor Fairfax stood there, unobtrusively in a corner, sipping a cup of tea and looking at nothing in particular.
“There you are,” Henry said, standing beside her. “I don’t believe I’m making a good impression on our shareholders.”
Eleanor almost imperceptibly stiffened.
“I should be careful, if I were you,” she said acidly. “Two people have already hinted at you and I making a match of it, so that you can inherit the business when Papa dies.”
Henry flinched. “Make a match of it? You mean, marry? Who would ask such an impertinent question?”
“The shareholders, of course.Ourshareholders.”
There was an odd inflection placed on that word, something almost bitter. Henry glanced sideways at her, frowning. Something was up. The light, sincere Eleanor Fairfax of the party was gone. In her place was a stiff, unfriendly young woman who wouldn’t even look his way.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, as if sensing eyes on her, only to snatch her gaze back immediately.
“Is something wrong, Eleanor?” Henry found himself asking. “You don’t seem yourself today.”
She took another determined swallow of tea. “Much as it pains me to correct you, my lord, I think I must insist on a little more formality. Miss Fairfax would be more appropriate.”
He flinched. She was right, of course.
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “That wasn’t proper. But really, Miss Fairfax, you do not seem yourself.”
“Really? How odd. With the greatest respect, Lord Henry, I don’t believe you know me well enough to know whether or not I seem myself.”
He reeled again. Somethingwaswrong. Shewasangry at him.
“Miss Fairfax,” he managed, as soon as he recovered, “Have I done something to offend you?”
“Why would you think that?”
He snorted. “I’m sure you can guess what might have given me that impression. Please, I don’t want to upset you. If I have said or done something, I know it was unintentional. Tell me what the matter is, and I’ll remedy it as soon as I can.”
She glanced up at him, just briefly, then away again, shaking her head.
“Nothing is wrong.”
She was lying, of course. Henry didn’t consider himself a great connoisseur of human nature, but he prided himself on being able to identify a lie easily enough.
“I see,” he said at last, when it was clear that she wasn’t going to add anything else. “Well, if Ihavedone something to offend you, I apologise. Truly, I…”
He broke off as a dumpy, middle-aged pair descended on them, a couple who were clearly brother and sister, dressed in similar black satin and pearls. A widow and a widower, Henry guessed.
“Lord Henry Willenshire!” the woman gushed. “What a pleasure. I was just saying to my brother how fine it was that Mr Fairfax has finally selected an heir.”
