Page 39 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
The palms of her hands began to sweat, making her fight the urge to wipe them on her skirts. “Then it is a good thing we have made his acquaintance.” Perhaps the friendship would be enough. There had been no formal announcement of a marriage, and already this offer had come. Lord Farthington wouldn’t revoke it. Would he?
Turning abruptly, she went back to her desk and rifled through the papers there until she found the ones she sought. She sensed Papa’s gaze on her the whole time. Hoping to avoid a further discussion about the duke’s intentions, she turned the conversation to preparations for their meeting later that afternoon. “Have you had a chance to read my summary on the textile factory? They managed to turn a small profit last year, but I found inconsistencies in their depreciation reporting.”
“Your summary was well done, and yes, I made note of that and it is something to discuss with them. Their equipment would cost a fortune to refurbish as it is. It’s clear that they never built it with innovation in mind.”
He started to walk back to his desk, but a brisk knock stopped him. “Yes, Reginald?”
The butler opened the door. “Lord Holloway has asked to see you.”
“What a surprise,” said Papa, though he did not actually sound surprised. “Show him in, please.”
A charged silence descended when Reginald left to retrieve Lord Holloway. Another earl, he was also a well-known member in the House of Lords, most notably for having the ear of Benjamin Disraeli. This visit was most definitely prompted by their association with Rothschild. While Papa had entertained callers over the past weeks, none of them had been so prominent in Parliament. Augusthardly dared to meet Papa’s gaze, but when she did, it was knowing and triumphant.
He gazed at her with a pride that was almost frightening in its intensity. He had certainly had cause to look at her with approval and happiness over the years, and he often had. This, however, was beyond approval. It was made even more worrisome by the fact that she had done absolutely nothing to deserve it aside from catching Rothschild’s interest. Is this what it had come to? Her earlier intellectual accomplishments would be wiped aside in favor of her ability to attract a duke?
A deep hollow of dread tinged with anger opened up within her. How did one go about fighting back against a sentiment that had its roots so tangled in visceral emotion? She worried that she might not be able to outrun Rothschild’s clutches. Not when he so easily fed the Crenshaw appetite for acceptance and success.
It seemed as if she was destined to lose either way. If she married, she would most certainly have to give up her place in Crenshaw Iron Works. Duchesses most definitely did not work. If she refused, then she might very well lose her place anyway. What if her refusal so angered Papa that he declined to allow her to continue to hold her position? She wanted to believe it was impossible, but she couldn’t.
There was only one solution. If she could not convince her parents that a match between them was destined to fail—and her previous conversations on the matter indicated that would be impossible—then she would be forced to make Rothschild understand that having her as his duchess would be so disastrous that he would give up his ridiculous notion. The trick would be doing that while keeping from disparaging the Crenshaw name. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was willing to try anything.
Chapter 12
Opportunity, sooner or later, comes to all who work and wish.
Edward Smith-Stanley, 14th Earl of Derby
To: Maxwell Crenshaw, Crenshaw Iron Works, New York, NY
Please come to London STOP Am afraid betrothal is imminent without your intervention STOP Papa has gone mad STOP He sees only the benefit to the company and the family with no regard for my feelings on the matter STOP Hurry STOP
From: August Crenshaw
To: Miss August Crenshaw, 12 Upper Grosvenor St., London
Itinerary to follow STOP
From: Maxwell Crenshaw
Evan waited before approaching the Crenshaws.There were a few reasons that this tactic seemed prudent. The first was that an inherited mountain of debt had taught him that it was not beneficial to appear too eager in a negotiation. Not only did it appear desperate, but it gave the other party the impression that they were in control. To negotiate successfully, one had to maintain control.
Second, Miss Crenshaw—August, as he thought of her more and more—was under the impression that she was in control of her own future. As such, she would need time to come around to the practicalities of marriage to him. His presence would not help that along, given how he seemed to agitate her. He could lead her gently and hope she made the right decision. If she did, then their transition into marriage would flow more smoothly. If she did not, then they would still marry, but he would have a bigger obstacle to overcome.
Finally, he quite enjoyednotbeing married. If he could hold his creditors at a distance for a short time while they awaited his betrothal, without actually having to be betrothed, then he would. However, he would have to be betrothed eventually, so he found himself calling at their Grosvenor Square townhome two days after the ball.
Instead of being shown to Crenshaw’s study, Evan awaited the man in a finely appointed drawing room deep inside the house. It appeared less formal than the one off of the entry hall at the front of the house, but no less elegant. The furniture was comfortable and stylish in creams with touches of navy and gold. His gaze was caught by two oval portraits set in gilt frames on the mantel. August’s likeness stared back at him with a slight tilt to her lips, as if she held a secret. Her eyes shone with mischief and intelligence. It had been days since their kiss, but a flush of heat stole through him as she stared at him from her portrait.
Apparently, her presence was not even required for her to twist his desire for her the slightest bit higher. Thank God bedding her would prove to be no hardship. He grinned at the nearly besotted fool she had made of him.
“Your Grace.” Evan turned to watch Crenshaw stride into the room. He came over and offered his hand. “It is good to see you again.”
“Likewise. I did not catch you at an inopportune time?”
“Of course not. I only regret that Mrs. Crenshaw is out for the afternoon.”
Evan nodded. Thank goodness for small turns of fate.
“Would you care to sit down?” Crenshaw gestured to a pair of wingback chairs, and Evan took a seat. “I’d offer you tea, but I prefer whisky. How about you?”
