Page 42 of Not Quite a Lady
One thing was certain, he was not going anywhere, not in inexpressibles this tight, until he had got both his body and his imagination under control.
As a result the clocks had finished chiming three before Jack entered the house through the garden door and his mind was busy memorising the towns on the stagecoach route back to Newcastle, the most unerotic activity he could think of on the spur of the moment, other than stripping off and throwing himself in the horse trough.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’ Fakenham was his usual imperturbable self.
Hoddesdon, Ware, Puckeridge.
‘Good afternoon, Fakenham.’
Royston…no, Buntingford, Royston…
‘Miss France is in the library, sir.’
Odd place to take tea…Huntingdon, Norman Cross…
‘Mr Lovell, ma’am.’
…Stamford.
‘Good afternoon.’
There was no tea table, no Mrs Herrick. Lily was certainly there, seated at the foot of a long stretch of mahogany around which were grouped six men, all soberly suited, all of more than middle age. At the head a vigorous septuagenarian with beetling grey brows glowered at him.
‘You’ll be Lovell.’
What the devil is going on?‘You have the advantage of me, sir.’
‘I am Frederick Conroy, Miss France is my great niece and these are my fellow trustees in her affairs.’
Jack shot Lily one hard glance, saw her smile fade, and turned back to her great uncle. ‘Then I appear to have intruded upon a private meeting. My apologies, Mr Conroy. Good day, gentlemen, Miss France.’
‘Not so fast, young man. We understood you are seeking investors for your coal mine.’
‘Yes, sir, for steam pumps. However, I hardly see how that need concern you.’
‘My niece is interested in investing.’
‘I however, have not sought Miss France’s involvement.’
The anger was an almost physical presence possessing him. Jack trampled it down.
Damn the woman and her passion for paying for things. What was this for? Payment for his injuries, or for his escort the other evening – or for his lovemaking?
‘Well, we have heard all about it now, so you might as well come in, sit down and discuss it.’ The old man was regarding him with shrewd eyes.
Jack could almost feel him pricing his clothes, assessing his mood, calculating his worth.
‘Come along, sir! Or do you tell us we have met for nothing?’
Jack took the proffered chair, his temper under a tight rein.He could sense Lily’s eyes on him and kept his own steady on Conroy. ‘Your meeting was not at my instigation, sir. I do not consider my proposition a suitable investment for Miss France.’
The older man gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘Miss France begs to differ. And if you do not agree with her, Mr Lovell, how is it that you have discussed it in such detail with her that she is able to recite chapter and verse to us? I had no idea my niece was so well-acquainted with the uses of steam power or the mechanics of coal mining.’
Jack did look at Lily then. He knew her well enough now to know when she was hiding something, and behind the expression of calm attention on her face he could read guilt and discomfort.
He had not talked in detail to Lily about the mine, but he had left all his papers out in an unlocked room.
‘Nor had I expected to find her with quite such a grasp of the different grades of coal and their uses, or so very knowledgeable about optimum depths of mine shafts and the laws of diminishing return as applied to the length of – what is the term? – ah yes, galleries.’
