Her optimism deflated, however, when she walked into the office and found that it was not empty. No, Henry sat in one of the leather chairs of the small seating area, flipping the pages of what looked to be a ledger on the small table in front of him.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked, allowing the door to shut behind her as she walked through the office, fighting back the tears that threatened at the familiar scents which so reminded her of her grandfather.
“Ah, cousin, how lovely to see you,” Henry said, lifting his head from the book and smiling up at her, though of course, his smile was insincere, his thin lips forcibly stretched. His black hair was slicked back as always, and he reminded her of a rat. One that was currently slinking around her office, and she had to deal with as quickly as possible.
“Next time you would like to see me, Henry, I would ask that you please make an appointment. I will be reviewing my schedule today, so by tomorrow I should know when I have time to see you.”
He narrowed his eyes at her words but stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he began leisurely walking toward her, stopping when he reached the desk as Elizabeth seated herself on the other side. The tabletop was full of papers of all sorts that had been left here over the past couple of weeks, and Elizabeth was eager to begin to review what was now her work. She just needed Henry to leave.
“Elizabeth,” he said with what she assumed was supposed to be a winning smile on his face, but she simply looked up at him in wait.
“Yes?”
“You and I both know that this will not work out well. Grandfather was generous in giving this all to you, but perhaps you could keep the house and the funds bestowed upon you, while I’d best look after the business?”
“Why would you suggest that to be in anyone’s best interest? Grandpapa was always of sound mind and judgment. He built this business beyond what anyone could have imagined, and I believe he decided as he did for a reason.”
Henry shifted from his heels to his toes, rocking back and forth.
“Yes, but those were in his younger years. It is almost as though he allowed emotion to get the best of him. Come, Elizabeth, I know you hold great sentiment toward him, but is this what you really want? To spend your days in an old bank, reviewing ledgers when you could be out having picnics and parties and calling upon your friends? Besides, as I’m sure your mother would have pointed out by now, do you not want to find a husband? That will be difficult while you are working at a bank all day.”
“Thank you for your concern, Henry, but I think we are just fine as it is,” she said with a tight smile. “Now, I do apologize but you must excuse me. I have a great deal of paperwork to get through.”
“Elizabeth,” he said now in a more threatening tone as he placed his hands upon the desk, and Elizabeth looked from the backs of his hands to his face with a pointed stare. “The partners will never agree to this. To be led by a woman. Enjoy your time here, but just you wait until the next meeting when I’m sure they will all have something to say about this.”
“I’m sure they will,” she said, forcing a polite smile upon her face. “And I am positive it will be words of welcome. Now, Henry, it is time for you to leave.”
She stood, rounded the desk, and walked to the door, holding it open for him. He glared at her but picked up his hat and briefcase and stalked toward her. He purposefully allowed his shoulder to hit hers as he passed, but Elizabeth refused to even flinch. Just when he was beyond the door, he turned back to look at her.
“This isn’t over,” he hissed. “And you are going to regret forcing me out like this.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” she said as though he were a friend who had just left a quick meeting over tea, “please never again enter this office uninvited and read confidential information, or I will have to ask our employees to prevent you from entering this building ever again. Well, farewell, cousin, have a lovely day!”
And at that, she shut the door in his face, brushed her hands together, and then went to work.
Chapter Six
Gabriel had just finished reading the day’s papers when his butler appeared at the door to advise him he had a caller.
“A caller?” He asked, confused. “It is hardly eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Should I tell him to return later this afternoon?” his butler asked, clearly as disapproving as Gabriel himself. Gabriel was about to tell him yes, please do so, but then curiosity got the better of him. Which proved that he really did have too much time on his hands these days.
“Show him in,” he said, before adding, “Who is it, anyway?”
“Mr. Henry Clarke,” said the butler before turning on his heel to collect the man, and Gabriel rather wished the butler hadn’t been so hasty in his retreat. Gabriel was, unfortunately, well aware of Henry Clarke. Elizabeth’s cousin, and a man that he had met on a few occasions, none of which Gabriel remembered with much fondness. The man was like a rat, looking to ferret out the best morsels of everything for himself, not caring about the means in which he found them or what he left behind.
Gabriel remembered the way he had always spoken of Elizabeth and recalled Thomas’ disgust with his own grandson.
And then—here he was.
“Ah, your grace,” Clarke said, entering and bowing deeply, to which Gabriel waved a hand to force him up. He did not rise himself, but bid Clarke take a seat in the chair across from him. Gabriel had settled himself in the corner of his deep brown leather chesterfield, from where he could look out of the window across the room. He wasn’t sure why, but he enjoyed the view of the gardens and the mews beyond behind his London townhome, which was large by most standards, as one of the most opulent in Mayfair. He hoped Clarke was suitably impressed, despite the fact he had provided the man with the most uncomfortable chair in the room, a wooden straight back chair where Gabriel’s mother liked to sit as her back had always bothered her.
Gabriel wasted no time on idle chatter with the man.
“What brings you here at such an hour, Clarke?” he asked, picking up a cheroot and lighting it, inhaling without offering Clarke one, despite the fact the man gazed at it rather longingly.
“I, ah—a matter of business, I suppose you could say.”
“Very well. Continue.”
“As you know, my grandfather, Thomas Clarke, recently passed.”
“I am aware,” Gabriel said dryly. “I was at his funeral.”
“Right, of course,” said Clarke as he smoothed his hands down his jacket. “He was, as you know, the senior partner of Clarke & Co.”
“Of course I know this.” Gabriel took another puff as he crossed one leg over the other.
“Right. Well, then I assume you know the terms of his will?”
That gave Gabriel pause.
“Actually, I am not entirely familiar on the details.”
“Oh!” Clarke said, looking pleased that he had information Gabriel did not, despite the fact that as the man’s grandson he would have actually been present at the reading of the will. “Well, my grandfather clearly allowed emotion to overtake him at the end of his life, for, outside of a few small stipends, he left all of his assets, funds, home, and senior partnership to one person.”
Surely the man had more sense than to have left it all to Clarke.
But then the man’s eyes narrowed, hatred filling his face, and Gabriel’s faith in Thomas Clarke was restored.
“He left it to my cousin—Elizabeth.”
As much as this bit of information shocked Gabriel, he took a deep inhale of the cheroot in an attempt to hide his thoughts. Elizabeth? She had mentioned not a word of this the other night. But then, she likely wouldn’t have said anything unless she had been directly asked about it.
“That is… interesting,” he finally managed.
Clarke snorted. “Yes, well, it’s ridiculous. She cannot seriously think she is going to run such a business, can she? It is not done, not at all.”
“Actu
ally,” Gabriel said, cocking his head as he thought of it, “I believe it has been done before in some of England’s other banks. Some women choose to take a more active role than others, but she wouldn’t be the first to do so.”
“I do not care if there is precedence or not. I am fighting this!” Clarke said, rising in his anger, and Gabriel watched him, amused at how worked up he had become. “My grandfather had no right to do this. No right at all! Something must be done about it all. First, I must contest the will. However, I am aware that may not necessarily work, so I do have one other thought as to how I could set this all to rights. Which is why I am here.”
Gabriel simply raised an eyebrow in question.
“You are a partner of the bank,” Clarke continued.
“Not a very active one.”
“The past no longer matters. It’s the future. You could take a greater role—actually be present for meetings, have others agree to vote with you on matters. The most major issue being, of course, Elizabeth’s role. You must not only poison the other partners against her, but we must find reasons as to why she is ineffectual in her role as senior partner. If she has no confidence from any others, she will surely step down, will she not?”
Gabriel was astounded at the vehemence in the man’s tone. Thomas Clarke had been an astute man, one whom Gabriel had always looked upon with fondness. His decision to choose Elizabeth over this Clarke was one which Gabriel applauded. Not that he would actually tell Clarke any of this.
“Very well, Clarke,” he said, waving his cheroot in the air, the smoke framing his face. “I will help you.”
“You will?” Clarke looked astonished. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting Gabriel to agree so easily. “I know you and my cousin had… dealings in the past, and I was not sure if that would mean you would be loyal to her, or if it would prejudice you against her, help you decide that this was a terrible decision.”
“Oh, it’s not that so much as the fact that I agree with you, old chap—women should not be running such things, now should they?”
Actually, Gabriel had come to realize, especially lately, women were capable of much more than most gave them credit for.
“They certainly should not,” said Clarke, a smug grin covering his face.
“Very good,” Gabriel responded, suddenly needing this man out of his drawing room, his home, and his life. “I will attend the next partners’ meeting and see what I can determine. Until then, farewell.”
“Farewell, your grace!” Clarke said as though they were suddenly the closest of friends. “And thank you very much!”
Gabriel began to laugh once Clarke was out the door and out of earshot. That was far too easy. Gabriel, of course, had no desire nor any intention of actually helping Clarke with his request. But by agreeing, Gabriel would placate the man and hopefully distract him from actually attempting to remove Elizabeth from her position. For the truth was, Gabriel thought she would be rather competent in such a role, and if Thomas Clarke believed in her, then Gabriel would as well. She didn’t need jealous, insecure men such as her cousin Henry to be coming after her with a knife in hand. For now, a threat to Elizabeth was a threat to the bank as well.
Knowing Thomas Clarke as he did, Gabriel didn’t think there was any chance of the will not being upheld. It was sure to have been created in only the most straightforward and legal of circumstances. Thomas’ faculties were fully intact right until the end. The physicians believed it had been his heart that had failed him—certainly not his mind.
And then there was the fact that Gabriel had only recently been lamenting of his boredom. Well, perhaps now the perfect solution awaited him. He could involve himself in protecting Elizabeth while becoming an active partner in the bank.
Not only would it provide him with something to do, but he could do that something very close to Lady Elizabeth, who after so many years still intrigued him. He was interested in seeing her in action, in determining just how well she took on the role. Not only that, but she would need some support in the room when she faced the partners. From what he could remember, they were all stand-up gentlemen, but did their trust in Thomas Clarke reach further than their distrust in a woman?
That, they would find out soon.
*
Elizabeth was surprised when there was a slight knock on the door and one of the footmen arrived with a new piece of paper. So far this morning she had successfully managed to sort the correspondence on the desk into four neat piles—those no longer requiring a response, those she must consult others about, those to respond to, and those she had no idea to what they referred but would require further investigation on her part. Next on her well-organized list was to begin preparing for the partners’ meeting that she must schedule nearly immediately. She was sure they would all have questions that must be addressed, and it was imperative to gain their confidence.
“My lady,” the footman greeted her, slightly out of breath from having traipsed up the stairs.
“Do come in,” she said, waving him in.
“Correspondence for you, my lady,” he said, holding out a few sealed envelopes.
“You do not have to call me ‘my lady,’” Elizabeth responded, looking up for a moment. “Miss Elizabeth or Miss Moreland will do.”
“Lady Elizabeth?” he said with question in his voice, and she laughed slightly. She didn’t want them to see her as a member of the nobility, but rather as part of her grandfather’s family. But she supposed each was a piece of her identity and she must embrace both roles. People accepted those who were true to themselves. “Very well. Lady Elizabeth it is.”
She took the note from him, feeling her brow furrow as she read it. She had immediately recognized the rich, heavy scrawl which was that of Gabriel Lockridge. He had penned the odd love note to her when they had been courting. In fact, he was rather proficient in poetry, though his poems had become tainted once she realized she was likely not the only lady to read his words of love. Not that any of it mattered anymore.
Gabriel was requesting a meeting in order to discuss his finances. That was odd. He was a partner himself, and she was certainly not the one with whom to discuss finely detailed matters as he would have an account manager. Which, she realized, he would be well aware.
So clearly he wanted a meeting between the two of them for another matter entirely—likely he was curious about her new role at the bank. She was surprised he hadn’t said anything to her of it the night of her grandfather’s funeral. One thing about Gabriel, he seemed to know all that was happening, about those within the ton and beyond.
Elizabeth longed to say no, for she had no desire to even see Gabriel again, let alone speak to him. But to refuse a duke—even one who she had more than good reason to ignore—was not done by the senior partner of a bank, nor by a lady. Elizabeth found paper within a drawer, sitting next to her grandfather’s seal. She picked up a piece of paper and dipped the quill into the ink sitting at the edge of the desk, and, in her elegant handwriting which had been long practiced with her governesses over the years, she wrote a note of acceptance as well as a suggested time for tomorrow. She might as well meet him sooner rather than later, and determine exactly what it was he had to say.
Chapter Seven
When Gabriel walked into the office which had forever been that of Thomas Clarke’s, he was struck by the familiar. Somehow he had expected it to feel altogether different, but no—the same bookshelves full of ledgers lined the room. The furniture had not been touched, the small sitting area looked as comfortable as ever, and the large mahogany desk stood as reassuringly steady and sturdy as it had always been.
Except there, behind the desk, sat a figure that, while as familiar as any of the inanimate objects in this room, was far from the stately gray-haired gentleman he was much more accustomed to seeing in the tall leather chair.
“Elizabeth,” he greeted her with a smile as she rose from the desk and rounded it, pointing to the small cluster of chairs that surrounded the cir
cular table in the sitting area of the office. He reached out to take one of her hands to lift it to his lips, but she deftly skirted him and sat instead.
“Your grace,” she said, her lips lifting into her steady, practiced smile and he quirked an eyebrow at her formality. So this was how it was going to be, then, was it?
She folded her hands in her lap demurely, though Gabriel couldn’t help but notice the slight twitching of her pinkie finger. It was the one sign of her nervousness—one he didn’t think she even realized.
“Lovely to see you again,” he said, knowing it would spark her anger, cause her to emote something other than this coolness he so hated.
“You say that as though our meeting today is a coincidence,” she said, her violet eyes boring into him. “We both know very well, however, that is not the case.”
He laughed then, chuckling at the fact that if there was one woman he may never outwit in a war of words, it was this one.
“Very true, Elizabeth. However, most women would giggle and agree with me.”
She looked at him reproachfully. “You also know very well that I am not most women, and while I would not want to be rude, I also will not play the part of a fool.”
“I do not believe anyone has ever accused you of such—certainly not I.”
“What can I do for you today, your grace?”
“I do wish you would call me Gabriel.”
“I will not.”
He sighed. “Very well. First of all, I have come to congratulate you on your new position.”
“I have not won a prize. My grandfather died.”
Gabriel felt chastened. He had certainly not meant his words to convey such a flippancy for Thomas Clarke’s passing.
“Of course not,” he acknowledged. “But you must be pleased with this new responsibility.”
“Yes,” she said, though her pinkie finger began to twitch again. Ah, so she wasn’t as self-assured in this new role as one might think.
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