“Hmm.”
Stifling a jerk at his wordless sound, she clenched her hands to combat the tremors of her rampant desire to fidget.
He spent only a few minutes flipping through the product information before perusing the financials. He set the London store data side by side with the analysis for the Bath store. As he read through the tables, he circled a few things on each. Occasionally, he threw a question at her without even glancing up, scribbling her answers down on a separate sheet of foolscap he’d produced. Unlike most men, he did not wear shirts with ruffled cuffs, and she could see why. A man of business needed wrists clear to manage paperwork.
“How long has the London store been open?”
“How many months did it take to get to this revenue stream?”
“Sales have improved steadily over the past two years.” She declined to add that the timeline coincided with her husband’s death and her management.
“When did you introduce shampoo?”
“Eight months ago. You can see it in the upturn of that chart.” She nodded at the paper he held in his left hand, as he’d been looking at the list of figures in his right.
“How did you estimate rent for the space in Bath?”
“Will your supply still come from London and be transported to Bath? For all your products?”
He scribbled some other information in his notes, then put the pen down and sat back, looking at her. “Have you considered a different entry point into the market?”
“Do you mean a different location? I considered them briefly, but Brighton is even more expensive than Bath for space and farther from London. Distance is important if I keep the inventory management centralized through London as a sort of headquarters.”
“I agree. But no, I meant mayhap not starting with a full storefront.”
“Oh. No. I suppose I don’t really know what that option would entail.”
“I have helped a few others take that path, admittedly with products that are quite different. But the principle’s the same. I could assist you as well.”
Althea straightened. This was what she’d been afraid of in asking a man to invest. They wanted to step in andhelp. They assumed that was what a woman would want. “Lord Cheltenham, I very much appreciate your time. And I recognize that you have had some success with investments.”Prim!
His condescending half grin made her aware of how vast that understatement was.
She tried to gentle her tone. “That is why I approached you. I am happy to have you direct me to possible paths, but I will take it from there. I am only looking for an investor at this time. Not a long-term adviser or partner.”
She bit her lip, hoping she had not offended him. But these past two years of managing the store had been the happiest she had ever been, more so than her marriage. She had loved her husband, but in a passive, quiet way. Her father had arranged the union specifically because her husband was a placid, reserved man. So while she would not have wished him dead and missed him in some ways, she reveled in her freedom now. She loved being a merchant, despite the aristocracy’s condemnation of engaging in trade. The last thing she wanted was a man stepping in and trying to take over.
Lord Cheltenham was frowning.Oh no.
“Lady Althea, from the looks of these reports, your London store is turning a narrow margin of profit for you. However, it does not appear to be ceding enough that you’d have anywhere near the funds needed for a location in Bath. Which means we’re talking about a considerable sum. How many investors are you pursuing at this time?”
She lowered her gaze to her lap as she admitted, “You’re the first.”
He exhaled audibly. “I suspected as much. Allow me to clarify your situation. Whether you find one investor or ten, they’ll want a portion of the proceeds. Opening a store in an entirely new location where you don’t have an established reputation is risky. There are already any number of apothecaries there, a quantity you should identify, along with their locations. Even with an interest rate you’d find usurious, investors prefer not to limit their return on such a venture to a fixed amount.”
Her voice was flat. “You’re referring to a partial ownership.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
****
Evan leaned back in his chair, lifting his brows. “You haven’t even heard the terms.”
Resentment of the request aside, he loved this part. It was like foreplay—finding what worked for both sides, what brought the most pleasure without tipping into unwanted pain. Keeping a poker face, his hands relaxed on the chair arms while mentally he rubbed his palms together and tried to figure out what would hit the right buttons.
His cock stirred. He nearly shouted in glee.
