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As he exited the building onto the busy streets of Bath, someone called his name. He paused not far from his horse to spy Sir Wicksteed hastening toward him. Cillian didn’t allow himself a smug smile. Not yet.
“Lord Harcourt?”
“What can I do for you, Sir Wicksteed.”
The man’s jaw twitched. He eyed Cillian for several moments.
Cillian tugged out his pocket watch, flipped it open then snapped it shut. “I have to make haste, Wicksteed. My wife is waiting for me at home.”
Sir Wicksteed nodded. “Here’s the deal, Lord Harcourt…as we said before, we did not know or trust you.”
“I recall that, yes.”
“The fact is, I still do not know you, and it is hard to put my money in the hands of a man I do not know.”
“Yet I am sure you have put your money in the hands of many you do know and never seen the returns.”
Sir Wicksteed chuckled. “You have me there I’m afraid.”
“Sir Wicksteed?” Cillian prompted. “I really do have somewhere to be.”
“The men in there—” He gestured to the building behind them “—they do not know what it is to take risks.” The older man shrugged. “They have never had to worry about food on their plates or a warm, comfortable bed.”
“And you have?”
“No, you would be right there,” the man admitted. “However, you came in here today and you took a risk. You revealed who you are, and I cannot help but admire such mettle. I cannot help but believe a man willing to go to such measures, to put us all in our place, might very well do exactly what he said he would do.”
“I certainly do not intend to do otherwise.”
Sir Wicksteed rocked on his heels, his hands tucked behind him. A group of women in straw bonnets moved past them, sparing Cillian a few horrified glances. Somehow, he kept his posture rigid, and his head lifted. All that mattered was that Ivy didn’t find him repulsive.
“I’m prepared to invest,” Sir Wicksteed said in a rush. He held up a hand. “I cannot speak for the others, but they are sheep of a kind. Likely they shall follow, and you will have your full funding to create housing for the workers and bring in safer equipment.”
Cillian forced his mouth to remain straight, resisting the need to punch a fist in the air or give a triumphant grin.
Sir Wicksteed inclined his head and eyed him. “I do believe we could work quite well with each other.” He offered out a hand.
Cillian paused only a moment before taking the man’s hand. “I’m glad we can do business together.”
“As am I.” The man gave his hand a hearty shake. “As am I.”
“I’ll have my lawyer send over the details.”
Sir Wicksteed waved a hand. “Yes, yes, we can get to that. Now, you have a pretty wife to get back to do you not?”
Cillian nodded, bid the man farewell and mounted his horse. Navigating through streets crowded with wagons and carriages would take some time, and he itched to be with Ivy, to tell her the good news. Unfortunately, she was probably still furious with him for wanting to send her away and he had either missed her at the tea shop or not been able to spot her in the crowded building.
He wasn’t certain he wanted to send her away anymore, anyway. He still feared Marshall had something awful planned, however, the idea of being apart from her, even in her angry state, tugged at his gut.
Perhaps they could go away together. Until he was certain it was safe. They could have a proper honeymoon together—one where they weren’t strangers. One where they made love every night and talked every day.
Whatever he had to do, he had to make this work because there was no escaping the fact now.
She’d created this man. She’d encouraged him to be himself.
And he loved Ivy more than anything in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
