“Now, Mr. Garrison,” the duke began, in a tone indicating he would brook no argument and was accustomed to being obeyed, “we’re most anxious to hearthe details of this investment opportunity you’re keen on offering to us.”
“You’re going to discuss business with ladies about?” Mama asked, clearly horrified by the possibility, but Leonora thought it wonderful to be included in a conversation that usually excluded women. She’d never liked being ushered out of the room when the discussion drifted to what were usually considered only manly pursuits.
“My wife is extremely skilled at investing,” Kingsland said. “She charitably has a consortium of women she regularly advises regarding how a lady can increase her yearly income through investments. The other wives here aren’t shy about sharing their opinion on matters. Their perspective often offers insights we’d not considered. Hence, we find their input invaluable. Therefore, enlighten us, if you please. What makes your munitions factory different? What sort of weapon are you offering that will ensure we make a profit?”
Sam downed what remained of his scotch and glanced toward the sideboard as though in desperate need of another. He was usually verbose except when it came to discussing the business. “At the moment we’re holding it secret, but we will be giving a demonstration to interested parties very soon. Until then, you’ll need to be patient.”
“Except it’s not a weapon,” Leonora interjected, believing it important that they be a bit more forthcoming with these men in order to earn their trust.
“But it could be... in the right hands,” Sam said with a bit of ire in his tone and a glare that conveyedshe shouldn’t say anything else. Too bad she was known for not being skilled at reading expressions.
She gave a caustic laugh. “No, it couldn’t. It’s a writing machine. No threat at all.” Except possibly to the pen-producing and inkwell industries.
She was very much aware that for the span of a few seconds, Wyeth’s gaze left her to communicate something with his comrades. She wondered exactly what Sam had told them in his letters. Then the viscount was looking at her again, his gaze steady and assessing, as if he’d just discovered a trinket he’d taken for granted was actually valuable. “Does it work like a printing press?”
“No, it’s more like a piano. Only what I refer to as keys are small and round and each represents a letter. When you hit a key, an arm with that letter on it swings up, and strikes ink, then paper that’s been situated into the machine.”
“Your correspondence indicated your expertise is weaponry,” Bishop said, sounding none too pleased, as though the evening had been a waste of their time. She needed to convince them it hadn’t.
“It was,” she assured them, “but we can’t compete with Colt or Remington, so we want to go in a different direction.”
“With a writing machine,” the Earl of Knightly said, with a skeptical tone he might have used had she suggested they manufacture and sell fairy wings. “We have a means for writing, Miss Garrison. Pen, inkwell, paper.”
His pens no doubt had gold nibs. “But it’s a slow process, my lord, what with constantly having to collectink on the nib and drawing the letters. In addition, not everyone has legible penmanship.”
“She’s obviously familiar with your atrocious handwriting, Knight,” Wyeth said, and Knight’s lips twitched. She wasn’t exactly certain what he found humorous, but he didn’t seem offended by his friend’s comment. “Perhaps we should wait until we’ve had a chance to examine the contraption ourselves before judging.”
She was terribly grateful for his stepping in and didn’t waste any time in adding, “Itismore impressive when you can observe it at work.”
“And not nearly as boring as talking about it,” Mama said tersely, no doubt upset that Leonora had stolen Sam’s thunder. “Surely tonight was an opportunity for us to get to know one another. But you’ll need to trust Sam’s instincts regarding the forthcoming demonstration. We don’t want to ruin the astonishment surrounding the revelation.” She held up her empty snifter. “May I have more brandy, please?”
Leonora wasn’t at all surprised that Mama would side with Sam, would strive to protect him. Taking their mother’s glass, Sam began walking toward the sideboard, asking as he went, “So what does one do for amusement over here?”
She could have sworn she felt Wyeth studying her. Possibly because she was blushing, if the heat rushing to her face was any indication, having discovered on her own what one did for a diversion. What she had done for fun with him. What she feared she might not be averse to experiencing again. How many kisses did it take to make a woman a wanton?
If the group was disappointed with the way theevening had gone regarding the gathering of information about an investment, Kingsland, Knightly, and Blackwood didn’t show it but simply began politely offering Sam advice on where to go for entertainment. Intent on learning what sort of investments interested the duchess and her consortium, Leonora had taken a single step toward the gathering of wives when her mother spoke. “How many bastards have you, Lord Wyeth?”
Leonora cringed. Honestly, the woman truly was taking matters too far. It occurred to her that perhaps it was her mother’s coarse manner more than her new money that kept her out of the New York ballrooms.
“None, madam,” he answered curtly.
“Have you been married before?”
“No.”
“No children whatsoever then.”
“No.”
Leonora returned to Mama’s side and strove for a low, discreet tone. “Mother, can you cease with the inquisition about matters that are entirely none of our business?”
Mama gave her a slow, assessing perusal that made her want to shrink into nothing. Her tone, unfortunately, was far too caustic and loud to be missed by Wyeth since he was standing so near. “I want to ensure that it is your son, and not one from a previous marriage, who inherits. In addition, you’re twenty-seven, no spring chicken. Quite on the shelf I think is how they refer to it here. You have but a few fertile years left to you. I want to be satisfied any potential suitor is capable of getting you with babe.”
She was surprised her head didn’t actually explode.So many things there for her to respond to, but she went with only one. “What in God’s name makes you think he’s a potential suitor?”
“I’ve never considered you a great beauty, but he could scarcely take his eyes off you during dinner. And still he seems interested, even if you are ignoring him. These Brits are fascinated by Americans. Why do you think Sam insisted on bringing you?”
She knew exactly why her brother had brought her and it had nothing at all to do with matrimony. She looked at Wyeth. No, Rook. His friends had referred to him as such and the moniker seemed to fit him better. He certainly appeared more comfortable with it. Perhaps he didn’t fancy being reminded he was a lord. “Please forgive her impertinence. I assure you that I have no interest whatsoever in you as a potential suitor. If you’ll be kind enough to excuse me, I need a bit of fresh air.”
