Taking her pillow by the corner, she flung it across the room. It hit the brick wall with a quietthudand dropped to the floor. She wanted to go outside, to feel the crisp breeze on her face and perhaps find a moment of peace in the simplicity of nature before her entire life fell apart.
Seth.
Would she ever see him again? Maybe once or twice in passing. And what then? Awkward greetings? Pretending everything was normal? As if she hadn’t given her heart to him so completely and then broke his in an instant? If his memory worked the way he claimed, he would never forgive her.
I can’t leave it like this.
If this was to be the last time she saw him, the last thing she ever said to him couldn’t be a lie. She needed to apologize and tell him the truth, if he would allow it.And maybe—she sighed—spend one last night with the man that I love.
Leaving the bed, Cassandra lit an oil lamp and rummaged through her luggage. She unearthed her diary, ripped out a clean page, andwrote one simple sentence. She walked the five steps to Seth’s bedchamber and slipped the page under his door.
Come to my bedchamber. - C
***
For a man of few words, Ezekiel Sanderson wouldnotstop talking.
Needing to make an appearance at his own festivities, Lord Bolderwood had left the study as soon as Mr. Sanderson arrived, leaving the three men with another towering stack of documents. Seth and Cooper scanned the pages while Mr. Sanderson explained.
“I’m offering to purchase the rights to your rifle and the telescope. My name will sit on the patents—next to yours, of course—and on all going forward. I’m also proposing partnership.” Mr. Sanderson laid two contracts upright in front of them. “Preliminary. I’m sure you’ll wish for your solicitor to look over the information before any permanent contracts can be signed. My offer.”
Cooper’s brows rose at the number on the page.
“Isn’t this too much?” His eyes traveled to Seth. “For a third rate rifle and a homemade telescope?”
“I don’t see it as third rate. I seepotential,” Mr. Sanderson said. “I believe that your style of weaponry will set a new standard, becoming common place throughout the world. Imagine what the next five years will bring, or ten!”
“I thought you were a scout, but it’syourcompany?” Cooper asked, flipping through the pages.
“It’s my contest!” Mr. Sanderson burst forth. Cooper’s jaw dropped.
“Wait.” Seth held up a hand. “It’syourcontest?”
“More appropriately, a collaboration with my company and the War Department.”
“What about Duke Kendall?” Seth asked.
“His Grace was all too happy to play the leading role, as long as he received a one of a kind rifle and some entertainment. He was… less than enthused about your rifle, but it’sexactlywhat I was searching for. I want one in every soldier’s hands as soon as possible.”
So Cooperwasright.
“We have a factory in London at the ready. Staffed with trustworthy individuals, all vetted. Talented. The contest certainly drew them out. It didn’t require much convincing to hire them on, not when they all suddenly found themselves without employment.”
“Sound’s a bit predatory,” Cooper mumbled.
“Is it? When everyone gets what they want?” Mr. Sanderson asked. “Isn’t that a motto of yours, Lord Lincolnshire? Results over means?”
“You planned this from the outset,” Seth accused. “We were never going to win.”
“No, I truly hoped that you would win,” Mr. Sanderson said earnestly. “I wished to offer both of you the grand prize on the morrow. The mystery prize is an exclusive contract with the War Department, which I’m now offering to you.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Seth’s brow arched.
Mr. Sanderson shrugged. “It’s my contest.”
“What will the mystery prize be now?” Cooper asked.
“A favor from Duke Kendall,” Mr. Sanderson shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
