Perhaps she could convince him to do it simply as a favor. At least then, maybe Sam’s nerves would settle. Reaching across, she placed her hand on his knee and pressed down hard enough to cause his leg to go still. “It’ll be all right, Sam. No matter what happens, we will survive.”
“I wish I had your confidence. I don’t want to go back to New York with my tail between my legs. All my friends will laugh at me. They think I’m on a fool’s errand as it is. I get tongue-tied when I try to explain what we’re doing.”
“But you have such a gift for gab.”
The smile he gave her made him look like a young boy who’d just been given a puppy. “I like talking with people. Just not about machines and our business.”
“If everything goes well this evening, maybe you won’t have to for a while.”
Chapter 19
Standing within the ballroom of the Trewlove Hotel, Leonora was not nervous. She was terrified. She’d traveled on a small ship across a vast ocean for this very reason—to unveil a piece of machinery that she and her father believed had the potential to change the course of industry, to change lives. It presently rested on a table on a dais and was covered by a large blanket that Sam would remove with a flourish. He did enjoy his theatrics.
Beside it was another table with only pen, inkwell, and paper. For comparison purposes.
Her terror was brought on by the fact that she was not accustomed to speaking before large crowds. When she’d begun the journey, she’d expected to explain their product to four men, probably at the same time, and do what she could to convince them that they should become partners in their enterprise. She had not anticipated that she would be addressing a ballroom crowded with people.
But she could see the advantage of not having all their eggs in one basket. And friendly I’ve-never-met-a-stranger Sam had invited anyone with whom he’d shared a pint, a gaming table, a meal, or a dance tojoin them tonight and most, if not all, had taken him up on the offer. She suspected out of curiosity more than an intention to invest. Or perhaps it was the food, drink, and dancing that had drawn them. The Brits did seem to enjoy their evening entertainments.
An orchestra had been set up and was waiting to play. In a corner near the door, a young woman was strumming her fingers over a harp. The harpist was here at the insistence of Mama, who wanted a touch of elegance for this business meeting that would turn into a ball at the stroke of eight. Leonora suspected most of the cajoling would occur then—on the dance floor and with small groups gathered in corners.
“Don’t suppose you could sneak me a peek?” Lord Camberley asked.
She’d seen him come into the ballroom and head straight for her. She had yet to catch sight of Rook but was fairly certain his appearance would calm her nerves. Although he’d be distracting in other ways. “That would be hardly fair, and it won’t be long now.”
“Fairness is important,” a familiar voice said, and she swung around to face Rook. Devastatingly handsome and confident. His gaze focused intently on her as though he knew what she looked like without her clothing. But then, of course, he did. She felt her cheeks pinken. Mostly because her fingers itched to slip beneath the hem of his shirt and dance over his firm abdomen, to waltz over his chest.
She could scarcely breathe for the images rushing through her mind.
His tart lemony-orange scent filled her nostrils, making her light-headed. She knew how different he smelled when lost in the throes of passion. He took hergloved hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it. “Miss Garrison.”
“My lord.”
He looked past her. “Camberley.”
Based on the frigid delivery of that single name, she was surprised little chunks of ice didn’t fall from his mouth and hit the floor.
“Wyeth. Looking forward to having all your questions answered, I assume. The rumor I’ve heard is that you and the Chessmen are unlikely to invest.”
Her stomach felt as though it had done a somersault.
“We’ve not decided whether we’ll purchase a stake in the company. Hence, the reason we’re here this evening. Based on your debt at the Dragons, I suspect you won’t be investing.”
Camberley grinned. “I appreciate you paying that off, old chap. I had a bit of luck at the tables last night. Who knows what I’ll do with my windfall? I’m anxious to hear all about what Mr. Garrison is offering.”
Naturally he would credit Sam for being the head of the company, the one seeking investors, the one—
“Perhaps it is Miss Garrison doing the offering,” Rook said, his gaze on her and not on Camberley.
“But... but...” Camberley seemed to be struggling with his thoughts. “But it’s a business, man, and men manage businesses.”
“I think all the Chessmen would disagree. One is married to a writer, another to an investigator, and the third to a former secretary who no doubt still oversees a preponderance of his affairs. Not to mention her own skill at investing. Having spoken with Miss Garrison on several occasions, I daresay she may know more about the workings of the business than her brother.”
“Well...” Camberley looked at her as though he’d possibly never seen her before. “Do you?”
She couldn’t be disloyal to Sam, even if it meant speaking the truth. He had done his part. This gathering was mainly his doing. Certainly, he’d enticed most of those in attendance into coming. She didn’t fool herself into believing they were here because of her. “Sam and I are partners in the enterprise. We each have a role.”
“But you’ll dedicate yourself to your husband and family once you marry.”
