“I feel as though we’ve been deceived,” Knight uttered. “We were supposed to be investing in a munitions factory. That’s what Sam Garrison proposed to us.”
“I know we were exploring our options,” Rook said, “but in the end, we’d have not invested. Miss Garrison has the right of it. There are too many established firearms companies. Not only in America but here. The Gun Quarter in Birmingham alone must have close to a hundred gun manufacturers. They supply our military, as do the Americans. We can’t expect to make much profit selling only to the occasional sports hunter.”
“Then why entertain the notion of investing with him?”
“He wrote that he had something new to offer,” King reminded him.
“And they do,” Penelope said. “As a former secretary, I know it can become quite bothersome when an abundance of correspondence is needed. I’m intrigued by the notion of a machine that would do the writing for me. I want to see it at work.”
“A writing machine,” Knight repeated before glaring at Rook. “My handwriting, by the by, is not atrocious.”
“It’s awful,” Bishop muttered.
Rook grinned. In fact, Knight’s skill with forming letters was only a little worse than his own, and while it had not been his intention to embarrass his friend—and Knight’s confidence was such that it would take a great deal more to knock him off his high horse—he’d felt a need to offer Miss Garrison some support when it was obvious she was so extraordinarily passionate about this contraption in which she wanted them to invest.
“She knew a good deal more about what they are offering than her brother,” King said. “Once she started speaking, he fairly faded into the shadows.”
“You gentlemen can’t be surprised by an informed woman in your midst when three of you have intelligent wives who either presently or in the past have managed successful careers that saw them in good stead,” Penelope said.
The grin King gave his wife was filled with pride and affection. “Not at all. Simply making an observation.”
“Mr. Garrison,” Rook began, “reminds me of a barker at a carnival who is constantly calling out for people to come over. But then he leads them to someone else who is the true talent.”
“Are you implying that you fancy Miss Garrison?” Knight asked, his smile all too knowing.
“Simply pointing out that she shouldn’t be overlooked. After all, you three misjudged your wives and had to do a bit of groveling as I recall.”
Chapter 6
The hard rain had fallen all afternoon, which made it the perfect day for sitting near a window, listening to the constant patter of raindrops hitting glass, and striving to determine and map out the inner workings needed for her tallying machine.
The weather, however, was not so conducive to traveling to a ball. Yet here they were, dressed up to the nines, in a carriage the hotel had provided for them, rambling along through the water-slogged streets.
Three days earlier, Sam had been beside himself with glee when he walked into their suites at the Trewlove Hotel and tossed the invitation to the ball on her lap. “We’re being courted,” he’d announced.
Leonora had barely picked it up and read the first line before her mother had snatched it from her fingers. “Another duke,” she’d gushed.
“Another married duke, I believe.” Since it was the Duke and Duchess of Wolfford requesting the honor of their presence.
Mama had given her a quelling glare. “Perhaps he has a younger brother who could inherit the title should the present holder perish.”
Leonora had felt ill with the realization that herown flesh and blood would wish ill on someone for personal gain. There was ambition, but then there was greed, and she feared her mother was hovering on the precipice of avarice.
“I suppose the Chessmen will be in attendance,” she said casually now, even though her gloved fingers had knotted tightly together, and she longed for her sketch pad to help settle her nerves. She’d never been comfortable at the few balls she’d attended in New York. According to her mother, they werepracticeballs to prepare them for the moment they would enter the elite ballrooms, but Leonora had spent more time warming the seat of a chair than gliding over the dance floor.
“I should think so. I get the impression they’re well-liked,” Sam said. “And I don’t think they’re the sort who would appreciate being snubbed.”
She had no plans to snub them, although she was of a mind to avoid John Castleton, Viscount Wyeth, during the upcoming days. Because she feared he might be correct. Their kiss was simply waiting to be continued. She wasn’t entirely certain she was prepared for the journey upon which its completion might take her.
Shortly after arriving at the Wolfford residence, where footmen holding umbrellas aloft had assisted them out of their carriage and ensured they made their way inside without getting drenched, Leonora learned that the duke did indeed have a younger brother—Lord Griffith Stanwick—because her family was being introduced to him... and his wife. Wicked girl that she was, she took a great deal of pleasure in knowing thather mother’s hopes for the duke’s early demise were thwarted. The duke also had a sister, Althea. She was married to a man who would one day be a duke as well, a man everyone referred to as Beast.
“What do you think of England thus far, Miss Garrison?” the unavailable Lord Griffith Stanwick asked.
That it is a place for wicked indulgences.“I haven’t had the opportunity to experience a great deal of it yet.”
“Perhaps you could direct us toward some unmarried lords,” Mama said, and Leonora hoped no one heard her back teeth crashing together as she fought not to reveal her irritation with the woman’s inability to be discreet.
“Are you hoping to remarry, Mrs. Garrison?” Lady Kathryn, Lord Griffith Stanwick’s wife, asked.
