My Only Love (24 page)

When
Olivia could stand no more, she turned to Earl Warwick. "Sir, I've heard
of your great philanthropy as well as your efforts to cooperate in the
reformation of this country's industries. Yet you allowed your own employees to
suffer under the indignities of these wretched conditions. You cannot let the
workers point the blame at your brother. These problems have existed long
before you ever passed them on to my husband, sir."

"Agreed,
madam. However, I'll point out that it was my intention to close these
hellholes down. As you can see, the cost of renovation would greatly outweigh
any profit we might see from the remaining lead. If, indeed, there is any
remaining lead."

"There's
ore," Miles snapped. "I'd wager my life on it. And with ore we could
improve safety and increase wages. But it'll take the excavation of new levels
to get to it."

"And
that takes money," Delaney reinforced. "How the blazes do ya expect
to open new levels when ya ain't got the money to upkeep the ones you've
already opened? I'm tellin' ya. You can do us all a favor and sell out to
Lubinsky."

"Over
my dead body, Delaney. I—"

At
that moment a shout arose among the men as a section of earth and rock
collapsed from the wall. As the miners scattered, Olivia suddenly found herself
wrenched from her feet as Miles wrapped one arm around her waist and swung her
away from the tumbling rocks and scrambling men. For an instant they seemed
frozen in place, she pressed against his chest, his face above hers and his
eyes reflecting the fire from the lantern on the wall.

As
quickly, he passed her safely to Earl Warwick, who grabbed her up in his arms
and spun away from the precariously tottering boulders that appeared to be
crumbling stone by stone onto the shaft's mucky floor. Miles stumbled toward a
young man no more than eighteen years of age who had tripped and sprawled
heavily into the mud. Wrapping the lad's arm around his shoulder, Miles dragged
him to his feet and hurried him from harm's way.

Fortunately,
the wall collapsed no further, and as if the accident had not happened, Bob
McMillian shouted for the men to get back to work—barking orders and sneering
insults at those who dallied.

As
the others retrieved their picks and ventured back into the tunnel, Olivia
looked at Earl Warwick and said, "My lord, you may put me down. I'm
perfectly capable of walking on my own."

He
set her on her feet, her heart beating fast for numerous reasons. Anger toward
the mine's deplorable condition, not to mention McMillian's heartlessness; the
thrill and shock of Miles's rescuing her from possible harm. She offered Earl
Warwick a glance and found him smiling. "I find little to smile about, my
lord."

"I
was only thinking that you remind me a great deal of someone very near and dear
to my heart."

"Oh?
Who?"

"My
wife. I think you'll get on well together." Miles reappeared, the
beleaguered miners trailing after him, McMillian bringing up the rear, his
whiskered face red from heat and anger and his hands clasped into fists the
size of ham hocks.

"Yer
makin' a mistake," McMillian bellowed to Miles, who stopped and turned to
face him. "Ya pull these men out of here and they won't ever come
back."

"By
the looks of these stopes they're lucky to still be alive, McMillian. Just what
the hell have you been doing with the finances I've provided to take care of
these problems?"

"Might
as well be pitchin' yer money down them holes," he replied.

"It's
like we said," Jake spoke up. "If yer smart, you'll sell out to
Lubinsky. Otherwise you can barricade her closed and call it a day."

"You
can both go to hell," he snapped, then turned on his heels, and grabbing
Olivia by the arm, pulled her back toward the rider.

Olivia
remained in her room for the next hours, gazing out the window at the
rain-drenched countryside while her thoughts somersaulted. Her son was safe at
Braithwaite, but she missed him and hoped she and Miles could return soon.

At
least Miles was safe, and she was almost certain he would come home. She
recalled Miles pulling her into his arms and kissing her those many nights ago.
. . Miles climbing down into that dark, wet, and treacherous sinkhole at
Margrave Bluff to rescue Bryan. For half of her life she had fantasized about
Miles Warwick. Had experienced both envy and immense crushing grief when she'd
learned Emily had become involved with him. Now . . . now Olivia was
discovering that marriage without requited love could be far, far worse than no
marriage at all.

A
knock at the door brought her head up. "Yes?" she called.

"I'd
like to speak with you," came Miles's voice.

Olivia
grabbed for her glasses, feeling foolish as her fingers fumbled at the lensless
wire frames. She checked her hair in the peeling silvered shaving mirror
hanging above the washstand, gave a few wayward strands a pat into place, and
smoothed her skirt with her hands.

She
opened the door slightly. He stood there in the shadowed hallway, a whisky
bottle in one hand, two cups in another. His eyes looked dark, his mouth
partially carved in that familiar sardonic manner.

"Mrs.
Warwick," he said. "You look as if you could use a drink."

"I,
sir?"

He
nudged the door open with his shoulder and stepped into the room. Olivia
watched him walk to the tiny table where she had made copious notes about the
mines throughout the last hours. He put down the bottle and cups and picked up
the papers.

"Tell
me." He looked at her and tossed the papers back onto the table. "Do
you like children, Olivia?"

Surprised
by the question, Olivia nodded. "Obviously--"

He
waved away her response. "Just because you have a child doesn't
necessarily mean you like children. There are a vast number of reasons why
people procreate, the least of which is love for one another and/or love for
children. You, of all people, should know that."

"Why
do you ask?"

Miles
poured a measure of whisky into the cups, then took a long drink straight from
the bottle. With ribbons of fading daylight making patterns on the floor at his
feet, Miles stared hard at the bottle before looking up at her. "I've
never given the idea much consideration, until recently."

"Oh?"
He offered her the cup of whisky; she took it and gripped it with both hands.

"I've
never spent a great deal of time with children. There are my nephews, of
course, but seeing that I've not been invited over to Earl Warwick's home for
any occasion other than a good dressing-down, I've not had the opportunity to
get to know the lads. They seem like fine boys."

He
drank again, this time from the cup. Then he took the chair where Olivia had
earlier been sitting, and offered it to her. He, in turn, dropped onto the bed.
With his back propped against the wall, and his legs stretched out before him
and crossed at the ankles, he waited until Olivia sat down, nervously, on the
edge of the chair. He looked at her bare feet, one eyebrow raised.

Curling
her toes under the hem of her dress, Olivia asked, "Have you come here to
discuss children, sir, or business?"

"In
our case, I think the two go hand in hand. Don't you?"

Olivia
put her cup on the table and retrieved the papers. She was feeling much too
vulnerable—at odds with her emotions. The fact that he was staring at her with
an intensity that would melt the lead he so worshiped didn't help. "I'm
certain you are aware of the colossal amount of money it would take to save
these mines," she said, changing the subject.

Miles
looked into his cup.

"That's
not to mention the increase in wages these men deserve. But all that is beside
the point."

Leaving
her chair, Olivia proceeded to pace and flip through the papers she carried.
"You've seen zero profit from these mines in the last five years,
regardless of the money you've invested. The reconstruction attempts and the
safety measures have proven futile. Accidents have tripled in the last year
alone. I wonder how you can justify spending another shilling on it?"

Miles
tossed his empty cup onto the bed and watched Olivia move gracefully about the
room, bare toes peeking from beneath the muddied hem of her dress. He wondered
if he were drunk. Must be. Otherwise he wouldn't be enjoying this little
scenario. The brazier of coals in the corner had warmed the tiny room capably.
The lantern on the desk lit the stark walls in a hazy yellow glow, and the rain
lightly tapped at the window and roof. The anger he'd earlier felt toward
Olivia now seemed as murky as the weather. Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe
defeated. Everything Little Miss Know-it-all was saying was absolutely true.

"You're
right, of course," he said, bringing her to an abrupt stop in the center
of the room. "Come, come, dear heart, you needn't look so surprised. I'm
not totally illogical."

"I
never implied that, sir. I only wished to point out—" "You needn't
bother. Damien has been telling me the

same
thing for the last years. His brother Randolf did

likewise,
and our father as well." Olivia grabbed the little chair and pulled it
next to the

bed.
She sat on it with her spine very straight and her hands clasped on the papers
in her lap. Her eyes looked very large, her mouth moist. "Then why do you
persist?" she asked.

"Because
I believe in it. I can't tell you why, but in here"—he pointed to his
heart—"I feel that we've only begun to tap the guts of those mines."
Swinging his feet from the bed, he took hold of her hand, causing her to gasp
softly in surprise. "Have you ever wanted something so badly, Olivia, that
you would risk everything—your pride, your reputation, your money—to have
it?" She blinked at him with her wide green-blue eyes, and he jumped from
the bed, dragging her behind him as he moved to the window.

The
panes were foggy with condensation. Miles rubbed a circle with his fingertips,
spilling cold droplets of water on Olivia's toes. "Look out there,"
he told her. "Tell me what you see."

Standing
on her tiptoes, she gazed out on the bleak village. "Dark buildings and
no people," she finally replied.

"Once
the population of this village was three times what it is now. Imagine what it
could be again if we tapped a new vein of ore."

"But
the dangers—"

"To
hell with the dangers. With adequate renovations, the dangers diminish. There
are five mines in the area that my father was forced to close completely due to
a rash of explosions caused by lamp fire. There has been a successful lamp
invented that will alleviate the danger of working those particular mines. They
could be reopened, Olivia. We could employ another five hundred men to work
those mines."

He
rubbed another pane, and grabbing her shoulders, her back pressed to his chest,
he said, "Do you see those two hills and the valley between them? If you
travel d*ectly east down that valley for twenty miles you'll run mto rails.
Train rails."

Robbing
a wider circle on the window, Olivia stared border at the foggy horizon.
"I see," she said thoughtfully. "Yes . I see. A train passing
through Gunnerside would do wonders for the village."

"And
there are innovations in steam pumps to drain the water and fans to expel
methane. Then, of course, there it die Bessemer converter that could make the
smelting botching tubs and buddies in these mines obsolete."

Olivia
turned to face him, her head fallen back slightly as she looked up into his
eyes. Faint color touched her cheeks and the light from the nearby lantern made
gold swatches among the mahogany coils of her hair. "These ments would
amount to a fortune. It would take every last shilling I own and then some. We
couldn't do it atone. However ..."

Pushing
past him, Olivia moved tentatively around the small room, her head tipped
forward as she studied the floor in deep concentration. Miles found himself
smiling x her genuine interest.

"Investors,"
she cried, her eyes sparkling as she spun to face him. "We could sell
shares in the mines—just enough to help finance the restorations and
improvements. And certainly there are banks—"

"You
can forget that. As you recall, dear heart, I'm a bad risk where they are
concerned."

"But
I'm not. And with my own money as collateral, aad my father's influence, they
wouldn't dare refuse as."

Miles
frowned. "I don't want your father involved in this”

"But—"

"No,"
he said sharply. Moving toward her, he watched as she backed away.

Setting
her bare heels to the floor, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
"First things first, sir. I haven't yet agreed to offer all, or any,
financial aid in this matter. My comments to this point have been purely hypothetical.
Besides, I haven't been convinced that there is any remaining lead in those
hills to be mined. You have no proof, only a feeling."

"It's
there," he said through his teeth. "I know it. Josiah Lubinsky knows
it or he wouldn't be trying to buy me out."