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“I knew you weren’t going to like it,” he said in amused resignation. “I couldn’t imagine what objections you would have, but somehow I knew.”
Farlow’s bank published a small monthly gazette for the benefit of its customers, full of news about investment opportunities, market trends, and consumer advice. This month, for the first time, the gazette had included a page intended exclusively for female bank customers.
“The ladies’ page,” William told her, “is for customers who might find the rest of the gazette too dull and dry. You yourself have acknowledged in the past that men and women often have different interests.”
“Not when it comes to money, William. Women like having money just as much as men do. We also like learning how to have more of it.”
“They can read the rest of the gazette, then. The ladies’ page is a throw-in. An added boon.”
Reina leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and regarded him with lifted brows. “To paraphrase, ‘The Honorable Mrs. H. H. Brightmore held a resplendent soirée for His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. The hostess’s magnificent figure was shown to best advantage by a gown of absinthe green silk.’ Now honestly, how does that benefit your female customers?”
“Many women have already told me how much they enjoy the ladies’ page.”
She let out a snort of derision. “Your gazette has fifteen pages of practical financial information for men, and one page of drivel for women. Why not turn it into a page of paper doll cutouts? At least then it would be useful to someone.”
Silence.
As William considered her point, his fingers wrapped loosely around a water glass, thumb slowly stroking the channels of cut crystal.
“The ladies’ page would be an excellent idea if it offered real guidance for women,” Reina said reasonably. “We’ve been excluded for so long that most of us face an overwhelming learning process. And it’s so very unpleasant to try and learn something while others are mocking you for being ignorant. By the way, what is this for?” She had picked up a silver spoon that had been set at the top of her plate. A little hinged lid covered half of the utensil’s scoop.
“Mustache spoon,” William said absently. “The restaurant usually serves custard for dessert.”
She examined the tiny shield, devised to protect facial hair from being clotted with food. The average mustache, lavishly waxed with curled ends, was a dining hazard. Thankfully, William kept his short and neatly trimmed.
“You’ve given me contradictory information,” William said. “You say ladies shouldn’t be treated differently at the bank, but at the same time they need extra guidance and instruction.”
“It’s just a matter of showing women how to navigate the terrain. Turning a bank into hospitable territory.”
“My bank is already hospitable,” he protested.
Reina took her time to reply, pondering how to explain without injuring his pride. Beneath the mass of her skirts, she used the pointed toe of her walking boot to rub at an itch on her wool-stockinged calf. “Farlow’s has made progress,” she eventually said. “But when I go into any of your branches, William, it’s not unlike the experience of coming here for lunch.”
Slowly he began to cut his roast into precise slivers. Eventually he asked, “What do you propose I do about it?”
“I wouldn’t presume,” she said demurely.
His lips twitched. “Oh, never. But I would like an answer.”
Reina fidgeted with the lid of the mustache spoon. “For years, I’ve been mulling over an idea . . .”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m sure if I tell you, you’ll try to explain why it wouldn’t work. Besides, it will be a long time before I’m able to act upon it.” After a pause, she added wryly, “Unless I have an improbable visit from a fairy godmother.”
“A banker can be more helpful than a fairy godmother,” William informed her.
She looked up from the spoon with an impish glance. “You say that, but I’ve seen your interest rates.”
He smiled. “Tell me your idea.”
“Someday, I’m going to start the first all-women’s bank in Britain. Run by women, for women.”
“Most people would consider that a risky venture.”
“They would be wrong. According to the facts, it’s a sound and logical proposition.”
“Facts from where?”
