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He’d been surprised when, at close to three in the morning, she had climbed out of his bed, donned the ugly black maid’s uniform and left him. It had angered him. What the hell did she want from him? He was offering her the world. He had the money, the capability to give her anything. Why was she so stubborn on this matter of who she was or was not? Didn’
t she understand that he didn’t care?
Blake took a sip of his coffee and spat it back into the cup. “Givens!” he bellowed.
“Sir?” The paneled door opened and the tall, slender man stuck his head through the doorway.
“My coffee isn’t hot. I ask little of you, Givens, considering the exorbitant salary I pay you. Can my coffee not be hot first thing in the morning?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get another cup, sir. Mr. Lawrence is here to see you.”
“Send him in.” Blake pushed back in his chair.
“Good morning,” Manford said, walking in through the door, offering his hand.
Blake rose and shook it. “How is your daughter this morning?” He gestured to a leather chair much like the red leather chair in Mr. Stowe’s office. He’d been thinking a lot about Mr. Stowe these past few days for some reason. Perhaps because he’d had to fire two barristers since he returned from London. Was there no barrister in Boston who was not a thief?
“Thank you.” Manford sat, as did Blake. “Clarice is better, I think, though she was up most of the night. A most peculiar ailment.” He shook his head, reflecting. “And no one else at the dinner party became ill last night?”
Blake shook his head, refusing to allow his thoughts to wander. Sapphire had not confessed to producing poor Clarice’s symptoms, and how would she do such a thing, anyway? Perhaps she’d been right, that it was just the sour young woman’s ill-humors coming out in her. “No one else was ill, as far as I know. I slept well last night.” He almost smiled, thinking how nice it had been to fall asleep with Sapphire’s warm, soft body against his. He’d missed sleeping with her since their arrival in Boston.
“Well, a few days and I’m certain my dear Clarice will be fine.” Manford flashed a smile. “Though I imagine her social activities will be curbed for a few days as she is still unable to get more than a few feet from the necessary.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “So tell me what I need to know before this Mr. Falkin arrives. I told Mrs. Lawrence this morning that we were meeting with a man from Philadelphia who thinks he can produce fuel to light lamps from rock and she wanted to call in her physician to see if I was ill, as well.”
Blake chuckled. “I know the idea sounds far-fetched, but I imagine many things have seemed impossible throughout history. I traveled here by steam engine—we rarely needed the sails and crossed in record time. A hundred years ago such a feat was beyond our imaginations. Hell, in our fathers’ time it was beyond our mind’s eye.”
“So this Mr. Falkin, he believes he can produce this miracle from rock?”
“He’s a scientist, a geologist. He’s been in close contact with an Englishman out of Nova Scotia whose work I’ve read. In England I met one of his colleagues. Mr. Falkin lives in Philadelphia but his research is known around the world.”
“Yes, in the insane asylums worldwide,” Manford joked.
Blake smiled. “I want you to listen to what Mr. Falkin has to say about this rock oil and the possibility it can be found in western Pennsylvania, but I don’t want you to feel in any way obligated to invest in this venture.”
“Well, it is a bit different from what we usually do. Transportation of goods I know, but this…” Manford shook his head.
“I understand, Manford. I also understand the importance of diversity, as do you. What if all of your assets had been tied up in whaling like the Crawford family’s?”
“I hear what you’re saying, friend. I’m willing to listen, but I’m not positive I’ll be able to convince Mrs. Lawrence that this is a place she wishes to invest my hard-earned money.”
Blake laughed. He had always admired Manford’s marriage, one of the few good ones he knew of. Manford loved his wife and she him, that was obvious, and they were true partners. Manford never made any important decisions without consulting his wife first.
“According to geologists, there are rivers of rock oil flowing beneath the surface of the earth in Pennsylvania and many other places. The potential of such a new resource is unlimited. If rock oil can produce the power that ships need—that factories need—the possibilities are endless. Not to mention the profits those wise enough to invest early might realize.”
Manford brushed at his graying sideburns with one hand. “And that brings us to another subject, one I’m not as comfortable speaking of.”
Blake leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers. When he moved, he could have sworn he caught Sapphire’s scent, but it had to be his imagination. “What is it, Manford?” He frowned. “When are you ever reluctant to discuss anything with me? I thought you and I were beyond that.”
Manford smiled. “As did I. Let me say first that I expect your complete honesty.”
“Which you always get, whether you expect it or not.”
Manford nodded. “It’s about Clarice…”
Blake waited.
“She…apparently fancies herself in love with you, according to my wife.”
Blake looked down at his desk, piled with neat stacks of paper that needed to be attended to, as well as several books he’d acquired to read up on his geology before meeting with Mr. Falkin.
