by Turano, Jen
She’d actually lectured him about Mr. Clay, and if he wasn’t much mistaken, she thought he should apologize to the man and offer his son a position in management.
She didn’t understand business at all—which was unfortunate considering she wanted to open up a shop of her own.
He would be forced to continue checking in on her if only to offer her his invaluable business savvy.
Strangely enough, that idea was somewhat appealing instead of daunting, but why . . .
A knock on the door disrupted his thoughts before Mr. Blodgett stepped into the room.
“Mr. Ruff is here, Mr. Addleshaw. Shall I tell him you’re at home or should I have him make an appointment to see you later?”
“There’s no need for me to make an appointment, Mr. Blodgett,” Silas said, brushing past the butler. “I can clearly see Oliver’s here.” He strode across the room, but paused and turned back to Mr. Blodgett. “I wouldn’t be opposed to accepting a meal if that temperamental chef of Oliver’s can be bothered to rustle something up.”
“Mr. Addleshaw’s chef is not here at the moment, Mr. Ruff,” Mr. Blodgett said coolly. “But, I’m sure Mrs. Rollins, our temperamental housekeeper, will be able to rustle you up something at least edible.”
“Where’s your chef?” Silas asked, lowering himself into a chair that faced Oliver’s desk as Mr. Blodgett disappeared with what sounded like a sniff trailing after him.
Not particularly caring to share the explanation that his chef was currently cooking away over at Abigail’s, Oliver shrugged. “He’s apparently not here, but, what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you back from West Virginia for at least a week.”
Silas leaned forward, flicked open Oliver’s humidor box, helped himself to a cigar, and a moment later disappeared behind a thick cloud of smoke. A full minute of silence settled over Oliver’s office as Silas puffed away, until the man suddenly leaned through the smoke, the expression on his face hardly reassuring. “I’m afraid events took an unexpected turn in West Virginia. Disturbingly enough, I got run out of town.”
“What?”
“The miners didn’t like the compensation I offered.” Silas took a draw on the cigar, blew out the smoke, and shuddered. “There was a riot.”
“A . . . riot?”
“Indeed.”
“What, pray tell, prompted a riot?”
“Like I said, the miners weren’t agreeable to what I was offering and they turned a little nasty.” Silas shook his head. “The only reason I’m here to tell the tale is because I jumped on someone’s horse and hightailed it back to the train station.”
“You stole a horse?”
“’Course I did, but just so you know, I left the horse at the train station, so if anyone sends you a bill, don’t pay it.”
“What type of compensation did you offer the miners?” Oliver asked slowly.
“Five extra dollars in every miner’s pay and expenses covered for the men who were injured. I even went so far as to find the name of a reputable orphanage when I learned one of the injured men, a widower, wasn’t going to be capable of caring for his children for the foreseeable future.”
Oliver rubbed his temple where a dull throbbing seemed to be settling in for a long stay. “And you’re surprised that your all-too-generous offer was met with a riot?”
“There’s no need to be snide.”
“Did it never occur to you that this injured man, the one who is currently unable to take care of his children, might take issue with the idea of giving them up?”
“They’re just children, Oliver. The man should have been happy to learn he was going to be given the chance to be rid of them for a while.”
A knot of something foul began to form in Oliver’s stomach.
This was his fault. He’d sent Silas to West Virginia to deal with the mining situation, knowing perfectly well Silas was ill-suited for the art of the negotiation. While he’d expected there’d be friction between Silas and the miners, he’d never, not in a million years, dreamed Silas would offer up the address of an orphanage as compensation for children who were without anyone to care for them because of his company’s neglect.
“I’ve been thinking we should just close down the mine,” Silas said, dragging Oliver back to the conversation at hand.
“You do realize that if we were to close down the mine the town would die, don’t you?”
Silas smiled. “’Course it would, and it would be fitting justice, if you ask me. Those lunatics chased after me with shovels, which was hardly a respectful thing for them to do.”
“I’ve always been of the belief that gentlemen need to earn respect.”
Silas frowned. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I must admit I’ve begun to feel a little queasy.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Silas said with a nod. “I was served an unfortunate dinner on the train yesterday, some dish that had meat drenched in a cream sauce. It was not good for my digestion in the least.” He smiled. “I was vastly relieved to get off that train last night and find my way to Canfield’s. I enjoyed a lovely bottle of port there that immediately set my stomach to rights.”
“If you returned to the city last night, why is it that you’re only now seeking me out to tell me about the riot? It’s almost noon.”
“I would hope you’d understand the necessity of me delving into a bit of amusement after my near brush with death,” Silas returned. “Quite frankly, I’m of the belief that my distress is firmly your fault, and I’ll thank you to remember that once you get around to compensating me for my troubles.” Pushing himself up and out of the chair, he ambled over to a small table and picked up a crystal decanter. Splashing a generous amount of the contents into a glass, he turned and held it up to Oliver. “Care for a drink?”
“No, thank you, and getting back to the whole compensation idea, you do realize that you’ve made this situation with the mine worse, don’t you? I’m not exactly certain why you feel you should be compensated for your less-than-stellar performance.”
Making his way back across the room, Silas retook his seat, gulped down half the liquid in the glass, and let out a belch. “There was nothing wrong with how I chose to handle the matter, Oliver. Those men were unreasonable, that condition brought about no doubt by their lack of education. That’s why I’ve come to the belief we should shut the mine down and move on to another venture, one that wouldn’t have either of us dealing with such undesirable workers.”
“Surprising as this may seem to you, Silas, I’m not comfortable with taking away the livelihood of thousands of men.”
“The men aren’t actually earning a livelihood, since they’re refusing to step back into the mine until we buckle to their demands. They want raises and new machinery, but I made it clear they won’t get paid while waiting to hear our answer about their demands unless they get back into the mines.”
“You forgot to tell me that the miners aren’t currently working.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Yes, I do, but you should have come to see me right after getting off the train last night. We could have sent someone to West Virginia right away, but instead, you chose amusement over your responsibilities.”
“I don’t appreciate lectures, Oliver, especially from a business partner.”
“We’ve never been partners, Silas.”
“I suppose you have a point, since nothing has ever been made official, but I’ve helped you increase your fortunes exponentially. Since you brought the matter up, though, I do believe as we move forward, we’ll need to do so as equal partners. I’ll need that in writing, along with a substantial raise that will suit my new title.”
Temper began to curl through Oliver. “I think we’re about to suffer a difference of opinion on a variety of issues, Silas. I don’t need or want a partner, and given that you and I seem to have opposing ideas on how my businesses should operate . . . I think our only option at this point is to consider a
parting of the ways.”
Silas tilted his head. “I must have something in my ear, because I thought I just heard you suggest we dissolve our business alliance.”
“That’s exactly what I suggested, or perhaps a better way to put it would be that I’m telling you we’re going to dissolve our alliance.”
“It wouldn’t be in your best interest to tell me something so absurd.”
“And it isn’t in your best interest to threaten me,” Oliver countered as he rose to his feet.
Silas’s face turned ruddy. “You can’t dismiss me as if I’m some lackey in your organization. As I said, I’ve made you a fortune.”
“You helped increase my fortune, and you also increased your own very nicely in the process. I’m sure the money you’ve earned while in my employ will go far in soothing your indignation over us parting ways.”
Silas pushed himself out of his chair before he took a moment to grind his still-smoldering cigar into the priceless Oriental carpet. “You’ll regret this.”
“I’m fairly sure I’d regret it more if I continued doing business with you.”
Silas let out a laugh that held more than a touch of malice. “In case you’ve forgotten, Oliver, I’m privy to information that can ruin you. All I have to do is let your competitors know about the underhanded methods we’ve used to gain inside information. Once those juicy tidbits get out, your reputation will be in shreds.”
Drawing in a deep breath in order to calm the temper that was swirling through him, Oliver took a step closer to Silas. “Clearly I’ve allowed you far too many liberties in regard to my business ventures, but by all means, let the truth come out. I’m willing to accept full responsibility for actions that have been taken on my behalf, even if I had no direct knowledge of those actions.”
“You and I had an unspoken agreement that I was to do whatever it took to close a deal.”
Oliver shrugged. “Perhaps we did, but I now have a problem with doing business that way.”
“How noble of you, but tell me this—you may not be concerned how the business world will view you after the truth comes out, but how do you think society will react? More specifically, how do you think that new ladylove you seem so reluctant to talk about will view you after she becomes privy to your shady dealings?”
Oliver knew exactly how Harriet would react. Her eyes would turn a dark shade of violet, her lips would definitely thin, and then . . . she’d launch into yet another lecture, taking him to task for transgressions he was evidently guilty of perpetuating. After she was done, she’d no doubt expect him to correct those transgressions, and . . .
“Is something amusing you?”
Blinking, Oliver realized his lips had taken to twitching as he’d been picturing Harriet and her indignation, but now was hardly the moment to become distracted, not with Silas threatening to ruin him. Taking a second to get his amusement firmly under control, he gestured to the door. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to take your leave.”
“I’m not leaving until we get matters settled between us once and for all.”
“We’ve settled everything we need to settle.”
“Forgive me, gentlemen,” Mr. Blodgett interrupted in a very loud voice from the doorway, causing Silas, who’d been approaching Oliver in a somewhat aggressive manner to stop in his tracks and glare at the butler. To Mr. Blodgett’s credit, he didn’t so much as bat an eye. “A Reverend Gilmore has come to call, Mr. Addleshaw. He’s waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Silas stopped glaring at Mr. Blodgett and swung his attention back to Oliver. “A reverend has come to call, Oliver?” Not bothering to allow Oliver a response, Silas laughed and shook his head. “It certainly explains your new position on ethics. I find the idea of you entertaining a man of God rather disturbing, but . . . to each his own.” He made a point of grinding the cigar even farther into the rug, then strode to the door. Looking over his shoulder, he sent Oliver a sneer. “Do make sure to have that reverend say some extra prayers for you—you’re going to need them.” With that, he vanished from sight.
“Good heavens, sir, is everything all right?” Mr. Blodgett asked.
“Mr. Ruff and I have dissolved our business relationship, and I’m afraid he’s not happy with me at the moment, but now is not the time for us to discuss the matter further. Reverend Gilmore is here, you said?”
Mr. Blodgett nodded. “He’s in the drawing room, but I’ll be happy to tell him you’re unavailable if you’d like some time to yourself after your unfortunate encounter with Mr. Ruff.”
Oliver smiled. “Thank you for that, Mr. Blodgett, but I’m not exactly comfortable turning away a man of the cloth.”
He headed for the door and then walked down the long hallway, entering the drawing room a moment later. His attention settled on an older gentleman who was studying one of the many paintings hanging on the walls.
“It’s by Delacroix,” he said, walking to join the man who turned and smiled back at him.
“It’s beautiful, and I have to imagine it’s quite priceless,” the man replied as he held out his hand. “I’m Reverend Thomas Gilmore, Mr. Addleshaw, Harriet’s guardian, if you will.”
Oliver shook the offered hand. “Harriet told me to expect you, although she wasn’t exactly clear on when you’d be paying me a visit.” He gestured to a settee done up in a blue watered silk. “Would you care to take a seat?”
Reverend Gilmore moved to sit down, his gaze settling on another painting, this one by Bonheur, hanging a few feet away from the Delacroix. “You have quite the collection of fine paintings here, Mr. Addleshaw. May I assume this is a room you seek out often to enjoy a bit of peace?”
Oliver lowered himself into a chair beside the settee. “I rarely spend much time in this room, Reverend Gilmore. I have an art dealer in my employ who travels around Europe, searching for paintings that are supposed to ‘speak to me.’ I’ve never quite had the heart to tell the man I’ve never heard or felt anything from a painting, but that I look at my acquisitions as more of an investment opportunity.”
“How . . . sad,” Reverend Gilmore began before he nodded, just once. “While I would love nothing more than to discuss your reasoning behind purchasing breathless works of art but not appreciating or sharing them, that’s not why I’ve come to call. I’m here to discuss Harriet.”
“You know, I think I’ve just found a new appreciation for these paintings, and I’d be more than happy to show you my entire collection, including the really nice ones that are hanging in my art gallery on the third floor.”
Reverend Gilmore smiled. “And I’ll be delighted to view those paintings, Mr. Addleshaw, but after we complete our discussion pertaining to Harriet. Tell me—and I’d appreciate the complete truth, if you please—how do matters stand between the two of you?”
Immediately swallowing the “We’re fine,” he’d been about to say, Oliver blew out a breath. “We’re not exactly in accord with each other.”
“Ah, well, that explains why you were absent from Mrs. Hart’s delightful dinner last night, but if you’re not in accord with her, have you decided to abandon your plans?”
“Certainly not.”
“May I inquire as to why you’re not abandoning your plans? Is this deal with the duke truly that important to you?”
Knowing the reverend expected more than a blithe reply, Oliver took a second to collect his thoughts. “The deal with the Duke of Westmoore is important to me since I’ve spent countless hours on it, however . . . it is more than that. If I abandon the plan, Harriet won’t accept any money from me. She’ll be forced back to that hovel she calls home, and I find that completely unacceptable.”
Reverend Gilmore considered him for a long moment, and then, to Oliver’s surprise, rose to his feet. “I don’t believe I need to take up any more of your time, young man.”
Oliver got to his feet as well. “That’s all you needed to talk to me about?”
“I came here today to make cer
tain you have Harriet’s best interests at heart, and since you seem to have that well in hand, there’s nothing left for me to say. Although, if I could make one tiny request? Please keep her safe, Mr. Addleshaw.”
Oliver tilted his head. “Forgive me, Reverend Gilmore, but that request almost suggests Harriet’s facing some manner of trouble.”
Reverend Gilmore patted Oliver’s arm. “Harriet’s troubles are hers, and hers alone, to share with you, if she so chooses, Mr. Addleshaw. However, it would relieve this old man’s mind to know someone other than myself and Mrs. Hart is watching out for Harriet.”
“I’m fairly sure my grandfather has been keeping an eye on Harriet, and her friends as well, Reverend Gilmore. He seems to have become quite fond of the ladies, and you may rest assured he’ll do everything in his power to keep them safe, as will I.”
“Wonderful, and . . . ” Reverend Gilmore looked past Oliver and smiled. “Speaking of your grandfather . . . Mr. Addleshaw, we were just discussing you.”
Turning, Oliver watched as Archibald strode into the room, followed by none other than Everett. “Grandfather, this is a surprise.”
Archibald lifted a brow. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised to see me, since I’m actually staying in your home at the moment.”
“True, but I wasn’t aware you’ve taken to keeping company with Everett, as well as Harriet and her friends, unless . . .” He turned to Everett. “You haven’t changed your mind about hiring Miss Longfellow as a nanny for the brats, have you?”
“I’m not quite that desperate yet, and Archibald and I didn’t arrive together. We simply ran into each other outside the house,” Everett said before Archibald gestured him forward and introduced him to Reverend Gilmore. Pleasantries were exchanged, and then Reverend Gilmore stepped closer to Everett.
“Tell me, Mr. Mulberry, why are you so reluctant to hire Miss Longfellow? After sharing dinner with her last night at Mrs. Hart’s, I must tell you, I got the distinct impression she’s incredibly put out with you—something to do with you refusing to even entertain the thought of her watching over your wards.”
