Page 79 of Real Earls Break the Rules

Amelia was perspiring from the oppressive heat, and her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she’d skipped breakfast. Her hunger, combined with the heat, stench, and noise from the machines, made her feel ill. As Brandon escorted her downstairs, she glanced at the door leading outside longingly.

Brandon looked at her in concern. “You’re pale. Are you feeling ill?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I fear I missed breakfast and the heat—”

Concern flickered across his features. “Go outside and wait in the carriage. When I find Begley I promise to meet you and we can all talk together.”

“Thank you.” Amelia trusted he would do as he said, and there was no sense in her searching the lowest level of the factory alongside Brandon if she was at risk of fainting.

She gulped cool air deeply into her lungs as soon as she stepped outside. The driver and carriage were waiting in the distance beneath the shade of a large oak tree. She longed to rest in the carriage and lean her head against the padded bench. Stopping long enough to retrieve an embroidered handkerchief from her reticule, she wiped her damp brow.

A flash of white at the far corner of the building drew her attention. Squinting, she raised a hand to cover her eyes from the bright morning sunlight. A man, who had the same muscular build and dark hair as Mr. Begley was heading toward the rear corner of the factory.

“Mr. Begley!” she called out.

He didn’t hear her and kept walking until he turned the corner and disappeared. Amelia picked up her skirts and hurried to follow. She halted as soon as she turned the corner. Several paces ahead, a heap of old broken factory equipment blocked her path—cracked bobbins, a hand loom with a missing shuttle, rusted oil cans, and random machine parts had been haphazardly tossed to make a mountain of refuse. Rotten wood brooms with brushes missing and splintered ends stuck out from the pile.

She caught a glimpse of Begley’s white shirt as he walked swiftly around the pile. She started after him and picked her way around the discarded equipment. She intended to call out Begley’s name again, but halted when she spotted a second man in the distance. Well-dressed with a jacket and striped waistcoat, he was a heavy-set, balding man. He looked out of place at the factory, and she wondered what business he had with Begley.

Instinct raised the hair on her nape, and she crouched low behind a broken loom.

“Lord Vale doesn’t suspect anything,” Begley said.

“Are you certain? Vale can never learn the truth,” the second man spoke.

What in the world? Amelia caught glimpses of the two men between gaps in the old equipment from her hidden position.

“I’m certain, Mr. Arnold. Lord Vale thinks I’m on his side,” Begley insisted.

Mr. Arnold? The name barely crossed her mind before a recollection followed. Brandon’s butler had mentioned that a man named Edward Arnold had arrived to speak with Brandon the day of the picnic. She surmised he was the moneylender who would soon take the factory and the unentailed Rosehill land.

So why was Mr. Arnold at the factory speaking with Begley?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Amelia stayed hidden behind the broken loom and listened to the two men.

“I paid Vale a visit and called in the IOU. He was arrogant. A lofty earl who thinks he’s smarter than all of us,” Arnold said.

Begley ran a hand down his face. “Take care. He’s not like his father. I’m told the old man was a drunk. The son is not. He suspects luddites could have a hand in the break down of the power looms.”

Arnold guffawed. “Luddites? Good. Then he won’t look under his own nose.”

“I don’t like deceiving Lord Vale. He took a chance on me and made me manager of the mill,” Begley said.

Mr. Arnold poked a finger at Begley. “Your mother’s sick, isn’t she? That fancy London doctor costs quite a bit. Do as I say and there will be enough money to pay for the surgeon, understand?”

“Aye.”

“Keep the power looms breaking down. He has no choice but to turn over the land and the factory. He has no idea there’s coal on Rosehill land,” Arnold said.

Coal! Amelia stifled a gasp. She needed to get back to find Brandon and tell him that Begley was conspiring with the moneylender Mr. Arnold. If there was coal on Rosehill’s unentailed land, it would be worth a fortune. Brandon could pay back all his father’s debts. He could save the land and the factory.

She wanted to turn and sprint back toward the factory doors, but she knew any abrupt movement might alert the two men. She glanced back to judge the distance. She’d have to round the corner and make it to the factory doors.

She stood, her eyes never leaving the men, as unaware of her presence, they continued to speak. She took a step back and stepped on a broken bobbin. She cried out as she turned her ankle and pain shot up her leg.

“What was that?” Begley’s voice asked.