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“I have.” He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, foot tapping again. “We build the largest waterwheel in all of Britain. All of Europe.”
Instantly, Nicholas saw an image of what must have inspired the idea—the large wheel just constructed on the Rosemount property. That first joint venture between Chadbourne and Robertson had started fraught, but eventually proved profitable and efficient.
Would that first collaboration be the firms’s last?
After years as their most vexing and dangerous commercial adversary, Robertson—rich, but a commoner—asked for Chadbourne’s sister’s hand in marriage. David Chadbourne was unusual for a titled Englishman; even after saving his estate through trade, he wasn’t given to a life of leisure. Whatever grudging mutual esteem the two men shared, Chadbourne had despised Robertson for his brashness and irreverence.
Faced with losing his sister, however, Chadbourne had accepted her decision to marry Robertson—once he was convinced of Robertson’s genuine devotion to Clara. Robertson achieved that feat by renouncing his claim to the disputed Rosemount property. Ultimately, the two enterprises shared in both the property and the building of the waterwheel, which now provided power to their respective newly built factories.
Nicholas had given his blessing on that shared endeavor, and as he considered the possibility of another, he observed his employer’s reaction.
Chadbourne blinked, signaling his initial digestion of the idea. “How would a wheel pump sufficient quantities of water from the mine?”
Gratified by the interest, Robertson smiled and went on to explain the mechanics behind his idea. Nicholas nodded slowly as he considered; Chadbourne rubbed his chin.
Afterwards, glancing around the increasingly busy room, Robertson moved to the edge of his seat. “Think on it. The engineer is finishing a model shortly. I’ll send word when it’s ready.”
“Engineer. Macalester again?” Nicholas asked.
Robertson nodded as he rose, and they all shook hands farewell.
“Might I call on you on Sunday?” Chadbourne asked.
Robertson replied readily, “Clara will be heartened. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Most gracious. On Sunday, then.”
After Robertson strode away, Nicholas turned to Chadbourne, whose greenish-blue eyes looked far away. He waited until finally Chadbourne seemed present again.
“Tempted by the wheel, aren’t you?” Nicholas asked.
“It’s intriguing, isn’t it?”
“We need a great deal more information. But I do want to know more. I haven’t dismissed it out of hand.”
Chadbourne shuddered. “Unlike the letter from the Americans.”
Nicholas laughed. “Even Robertson agreed with us, despite his greater sympathies for the endeavor.”
“To the dining room?” Chadbourne drawled.
Nicholas's stomach felt as though it was all but consuming itself. “With the speed of that American clipper.”
