A Scandalous Arrangement (7 page)

Her clerk nodded, seemingly in full accord with her need to regain a hold, however slender, on the property she adored and considered rightly hers. “On a related subject, we have received word from the bank that our accounts are unfrozen. Mr. Norman offers his apologies for any inconvenience.”

Victoria nodded, pleased at this further evidence in support of Adam Luke’s integrity. He had said it would be done, and it was.

Mr. Timmins continued. “However, a courier from a firm of solicitors in Leeds arrived just as we were closing the mill yesterday. He had a letter of authority from that other chap, Catchpole, requiring us to hand over all our accounts and ledgers. I saw no alternative but to comply.”

“Of course. Mr. Luke said he would wish to examine the books in the course of his deliberations. Meanwhile, we are to carry on as normal. Do you have details of that shipment of alpaca wool, please?”

“It arrived the day before yesterday. I have our finest weavers working with it now. The results appear every bit as promising as you suspected, a very fine cloth indeed.”

“Will I have samples for the Piece Hall exhibition next week?”

“Oh, yes, I should think so. Several fine varieties of cloth to display.”

The Halifax Piece Hall, though no longer just a venue for trading pieces of cloth, remained at the heart of the woollen trade in West Yorkshire. Victoria intended to present her latest alpaca yarns and cloth at a commercial fair, and expected to attract considerable interest. Orders should soon follow. Her plan for her future prosperity started here.

* * *

A week had gone by, and no word from Mr. Luke. Victoria contemplated writing to him to seek an update on the progress of his deliberations. Surely he had had sufficient time by now to peruse her accounts and order books, which would demonstrate the strength of her company. What more could he need? What was he waiting for?

She persuaded herself that to hound Mr. Luke would be counterproductive. He had said he would be in touch, and she trusted him. Even so, the waiting was excruciating.

Her mother’s attempts to identify a suitable new home for them had so far proved fruitless. Places they might afford were either too dingy, the neighbourhoods too seedy to offer even the most basic promise of safety for three women living alone, or in dire—and costly—need of repairs. Hester remained optimistic, but Victoria feared they would need to lower their sights, which already seemed to her quite depressed enough. Still, they had plenty of time. Something would come up.

She reached for the pile of orders received just that morning. Her presentation of the new yarns in the Piece Hall had been a fabulous success and she found herself contemplating taking on temporary workers to complete the volume of orders.

Business was booming. Perhaps that was enough to justify a further missive to Mr. Luke.

“Mr. Timmins, do you have a moment?” She would seek her assistant’s view on the matter. He was usually a source of excellent counsel.

“Mr. Timmins is occupied elsewhere, I fear. Will I do?” The deep, rich, and oh-so-familiar tone reached her from the door to her clerk’s adjoining office.

Victoria’s head snapped up from her study of the latest order from Hathaway’s in Huddersfield. She gaped at the figure lounging before her, casual yet so elegant in his fine business suit. His hat was tucked under his arm, his cane in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other. His hair glowed in the sunlight streaking through her window, slightly tousled as though from a breeze. He treated her to a smile, quite dazzling really, as he stepped forward to deposit his belongings on her desk.

“You appear surprised to see me, Miss Wynne. Did I not say I would be in touch?”

“Yes, but… I expected… I thought to receive a letter, or a telegram perhaps. You did not say you would come in person.”

Privately her heart soared. Surely he would not have made the journey just to turn down her offer. His presence here was a good sign, it must be.

“Ah, but I needed to see the property for myself, inspect my latest acquisition.”

His slightly mischievous smile suggested there may be more to his words, some ulterior meaning, but Victoria could not fathom that. She rose to greet him, offering her hand to shake.

Mr. Luke took it, but she wondered if he lingered just a fraction too long before releasing it. She indicated the other seat in the room, the one normally commandeered by Mr. Timmins. “Please, sit down. May I offer you some refreshment after your journey? Have you come straight here from the station?”

“Tea would be most welcome, if that is convenient. And yes, I prefer to press on with our discussions without delay, so I sought directions from the station master, then made my way here.”

“Of course. Mr. Timmins…” She summoned her assistant, forgetting momentarily that he was ‘elsewhere.’

The man appeared within seconds. “May I help you, Miss Wynne?”

Victoria chose not to remark on the specifics of his whereabouts. Instead she requested a tray of tea, and perhaps some biscuits if any were to hand. Mr. Timmins nodded, offered a swift bow to Mr. Luke, whose presence seemed to come as no surprise to him, and scurried off.

Alone again, Victoria launched right in. She was anxious to know her fate. “You have examined the books. I trust you found all in order.”

“Indeed, Miss Wynne. I have brought your accounts back with me since you will have need of them.”

“Thank you. May I assume my offer is acceptable then? Are we to be partners?”

He fixed her with that glinting green gaze she remembered with vivid accuracy from their earlier encounter. “Your offer is of interest to me, Miss Wynne, though I wish to vary the terms somewhat.”

Victoria frowned, perplexed. “But, my terms were fair, generous even. You stand to make money, an excellent return in fact, from my management of Wynne’s. I can assure you, Mr. Luke, you would have no cause to regret entering into a deal with me.”

“I trust I would not. Indeed, I am convinced of it. But as I say, I have a different concept in mind that I wish to put to you. The nature of my proposal is more personal in nature, such that it requires to be discussed face to face, and in private. I should say though, I hope you will find my terms to be generous too, and they are non-negotiable. You will either accept them, or you will not.”

Victoria sank back into her seat, her optimism evaporating. “Please go on, Mr. Luke.”

“All in good time. First, we will enjoy our tea.” Mr. Timmins entered the room, a tray in his hands. He placed it on Victoria’s desk, then left them to it.

Adam Luke followed the clerk’s retreat with his eyes. “A most amenable employee. I hope you pay him well.”

“I believe so. He has worked for my family for almost twenty years.”

“I see. He makes a fine cup of tea as well, if I may say so.” Mr. Luke lifted the small porcelain teapot and poured two cups as Victoria regarded him in silence. He passed one to her. The next several moments were employed sorting out the milk and sugar and offering biscuits.

At last, Mr. Luke sat back in his chair and took a slow sip. He raised his eyes to regard Victoria under his brows. “Miss Wynne, I want you to become my mistress.”

His remark was followed by the shattering of china as Victoria’s cup slipped from her fingers to smash on the stone floor. Mr. Timmins hurtled into the room.

“What has happened? Are you all right, Miss Wynne? Were you scalded?” Her clerk rounded the desk to fuss over her.

“No, I am fine, just a little… Please, could you find me a broom?”

“I will see to it. Are you quite sure you are uninjured?”

“Miss Wynne has had something of a shock, but I am sure she will recover soon enough. She is otherwise unharmed. Perhaps you could clear up the debris, and bring another cup for Miss Wynne. Or may I call you Victoria?”

Adam Luke remained cool, calm, utterly unfazed by the commotion. Had she retained her teacup in her grip, Victoria suspected she might have flung it at him.

“Yes. No, I…” She was not normally given to stammering. This man brought out her worst failings.

“Of course, sir. Right away.” Mr. Timmins appeared oblivious to his employer’s discomfiture as he crouched to pick up the shattered remains of her fine china teacup from around her chair. “I’ll just go and find a cloth. Please excuse me.”

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Victoria rounded on her tormentor. “Your suggestion, sir, is outrageous. Utterly scurrilous. You are without honour or morals.”

He took another sip. “Up to a point, I suppose I could agree with you. Though I might be moved to challenge ‘scurrilous.’ I mean you no harm and I believe you would find the arrangement to be of some benefit. At the risk of sounding overconfident, I think I can promise you a good time in my bed, Victoria.”

“Can you? Can you indeed? And would your wife be there with us, enjoying this ‘good time’?”

“My goodness, what exotic tastes you do have. I had not intended to include anyone else in our arrangement, but if you would prefer company…”

Victoria rose to her feet, her fists planted firmly on her desk. She leaned forward and glared at him. “Sir, you are an utter blackguard. You are both faithless and immoral. I will have nothing to do with this seedy little arrangement you have dreamed up. Indeed, I am insulted, mortally so, that you might even consider this a contract I would enter into. How dare you?”

Adam Luke appeared unconcerned, which Victoria discovered enraged her further. Had the man no conscience whatsoever? She remained standing as he sipped his tea again, glancing in the direction of the door as Mr. Timmins returned carrying a cloth.

She held out her hand to take the rag from him. “I’ll do that. Please, would you escort Mr. Luke from the premises? He is leaving.”

Mr. Timmins hesitated, glancing from one to the other. He did not relinquish the cloth.

Adam Luke offered her clerk a truly dazzling smile. “Miss Wynne is mistaken; my business here is not entirely concluded, at least not to my satisfaction. Please, would you be so obliging as to attend to the mess, then you may take the rest of the afternoon off.”

“But—” Victoria started to protest, but was silenced by an abrupt wave of Mr. Luke’s hand.

He continued. “Please be seated, Victoria. We still have much to discuss. More tea?”

Uncertain why she obeyed him, Victoria nevertheless sat. She fumed in silence as Adam Luke poured her a replacement cup of tea, and Mr. Timmins dealt with the drink she had spilt earlier. No words were spoken between the three of them until the clerk backed toward the door.

“I will see you in the morning, Miss Wynne. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance, Mr. Luke.” At a brisk nod from her nemesis, Victoria’s only possible ally in this matter scurried off to enjoy a rare half day of free time.

Adam placed the fresh cup before her on the desk, then resumed his easy pose in the chair opposite. “So, shall we continue? I believe I may not have made the situation entirely clear.”

“Please do not trouble to elaborate, Mr. Luke. I have heard enough.”

“I am not married.”

“What? Do you take me for a completely gullible fool? Please do not add falsehoods to your string of failings, Mr. Luke. I assure you that list is already quite lengthy enough.”

“I am not married,” he repeated, enunciating the words with care, “though I can appreciate where the misunderstanding arose. I recall you made mention of a Mrs. Luke over breakfast at our last meeting. I should have cleared up the misunderstanding then.”

“And what misunderstanding might that be? A wife is a wife, not a ‘misunderstanding.’”

He nodded, still unperturbed. Had he no shame at all? “A wife is indeed a wife. Unless she is a sister-in law. Then, I believe she might be adequately described as a misunderstanding, would you agree?”

“What are you babbling about? You are a married man, Mr. Luke. You told me so, Mrs. Jennings told me so. Of course it may suit you to deny it now—”

“Babbling, Victoria? I have been accused of much in the course of my life, but never babbling. At the risk of repeating myself, I have no wife. The Mrs. Luke you are referring to is in fact the widow of my younger brother who died in an unfortunate hunting accident some three years ago. Violet lives in Portsmouth. She does occasionally come to London, but prefers the quiet of the south coast. I gather she is contemplating remarrying so the confusion will soon be at an end when she takes a new name.” He paused to set his teacup down on the desk. “I trust that addresses the matter to your satisfaction.”

Victoria furrowed her brow, far from convinced and still bristling. “Why would I believe you? Of course you would say some such thing.”

Adam’s expression darkened, and Victoria felt the first stirrings of unease. His tone, when he responded, was clipped. “I do not babble, Victoria, and neither do I lie. Especially on such a weighty issue. I will be happy to introduce you to my sister-in-law in due course if that helps to make you feel more comfortable. At her wedding, perhaps.”

Victoria tilted her chin at him. “I can conceive of no possible reason that would see me attending your sister-in-law’s wedding, sir.”

He smiled. “Ah, you do at least believe me. This is progress. And you would attend the function with me, as my mistress.”

“Mr. Luke, I am not—”

He forestalled her outburst again by the simple expedient of lifting one lordly finger. “Please hear me out, Victoria. And may I suggest you call me by my given name, since we are to become such close associates.”

She opened her mouth to again protest, but that raised finger was enough to silence her. She settled instead for glowering at him across their teacups.

“Thank you, Victoria. So, where were we? Ah, yes, my terms for entering into partnership with you…” He settled back in his chair. “So, first the residential property. Wynne House, I believe it is called?”

Victoria nodded.

“Yes. A fine house, gracious I gather, and somewhat on the large side. Twelve bedrooms.”

She offered no further encouragement.

“I am prepared to return the house to you. The freehold will be yours.”