“I could share the costs and possible profits of our company with you, if you’ve an interest.”
His cheeks darkened from pink into a fiery red. “To be honest, Miss Garrison, I haven’t the means to invest in anything at the moment. Not until the others pay off.”
She felt at once bad for humiliating him by forcing him to make such a confession and for mortifying herself with her eagerness to get him to take an interest in their enterprise. She might have saved them both some blushing and shame if instead she’d opted to discuss wedding night thrusts.
“Still, I do hope you’ll attend our demonstration next week. You never know when fortune might smile on you, and you’ll find yourself with money to burn.”
He laughed lightly. “I doubt fortune will ever give me a grin as wide as all that, but, yes, I’d very much like to see this machine of yours.”
She had a strong urge to describe it, to entice him with the mechanics of it, because she wanted him to have an interest in it. But she didn’t want word to spread that she was a bore, so no one would dance with her. Therefore, instead, she reached back into her memory for all the topics that a proper lady was supposed to discuss with a gentleman and snagged the first one she found. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
Thunder chose that moment to boom so loudly it fairly shook the foundation beneath her feet. She dearly hoped it wasn’t a portent that their journey over here was going to end in disaster.
Chapter 9
MATRIMONY IN THE AIR?
The ladies of thetonreleased a collective gasp heard throughout London when Lord Wyeth was spied going down on bended knee before the American heiress Miss Leonora Garrison. A bit of trouble with her slipper seemed to be the cause for his grand gesture and his granting her his attention. Still, his positioning sent hearts aflutter and raised the ire of some who had hoped the viscount would kneel before them. Later, he was seen dancing with the newcomer. The elusive lord is not known for showering his affections on the ladies. His preference, while at balls, for engaging in cards or billiards is more widely known. However, one can’t help but wonder what game he might be playing with the American.
At the breakfast table, Leonora sat stunned as Mama read aloud, with an air of triumph, from the gossip page. Even Sam, damn him, appeared far too pleased by the wording, his eyes glittering with victory.
Mama set aside the newspaper and leveled a hard-edged glare at her. “He’d best be playing the courtship game.”
“You’re making too much of this. He was simply helping me with that damn”—nonexistent—“pebble. Then we danced. And that was it.”
“You didn’t sneak off for a rendezvous?” Sam asked.
Leonora hoped that her cheeks, her entire face, didn’t flame red, but based upon the heat that had come upon her, she feared she was close to igniting. “Absolutely not.”
His features shifted into a frown of disappointment. “Pity. It would have moved things along.”
“Things?”
“Acquiring an investor.”
“I would have thought, judging by the number of guests, that we could well be on the verge of getting an investor.”
“It’s my understanding that the abundance of guests had little to do with us and more to do with curiosity regarding the Duke of Wolfford. Apparently, a tremendous scandal recently involved that family. However, in spite of that, you warranted a mention”—Mama flattened her palm on the newspaper—“and I would say that bodes well for us. You mustn’t be shy about encouraging him should your paths cross again.”
“Based on the words in that article you just read, he isn’t looking for a wife.”
“Few men are until they’ve been caught.”
“They’re not trout, for goodness’ sakes.”
Her mother angled her head thoughtfully. “With the right bait, all men are.”
She wasn’t going to manipulate him in order to gain an investor. They should be able to secure an infusion of funds based solely on the company’s merits.
“Maybe the fishing will be better when we attend the Rosemont affair,” Sam said laconically.
“Rosemont?” Leonora asked. She hated that the nobility went by so many names. First names, last names, titles, pet names. It was all so deuced confusing.
“He’s an earl, married into the Trewlove family. While they’re commoners, their spouses aren’t, so they must have some money to them and, apparently, they are looking for an investment opportunity.”
“Why can’t we simply meet with them? Present them with an invitation to our demonstration?” She’d get right on creating the invitations following breakfast. “Why must we attend another ball?”
“Because that’s how it is done over here,” Mama snapped. “I daresay there are matrons in New York who would give their souls to receive an invitation to a ball hosted by someone of the nobility. They shall read about each one we attend, because I shall ensure an announcement appears in theNew York Timesalerting the snobbish elite that we are being so honored.” She shoved back her chair and stood. “They shall rue the day they snubbed me.”
