Page 31 of The Secret Word
Thank goodness Chris had been part of dozens of contract negotiations for Billy—admittedly as the most junior member of the team, holding the bag and passing the ink. But still, he’d learned enough to bluff. “Two to read and absorb the document and to discuss any issues we might have with it, one to come up with counter proposals to cover those points.”
“You won’t need counter proposals,” Wright blustered. “This is the agreement. Take it or leave it.”
Outwardly calm, but with his heart racing, Chris inclined his head. “We shall present our difficulties, our proposed solutions, and our arguments, and see what you have to say, Mr. Wright. It is surely not necessary to stop the marriage when you have not even heard what small changes we might wish to make, and why.”
Wright held Chris’s gaze for what must have been a full minute before making that thoughtful noise again. “Harrumph.” He turned his glare on the lead legal advisor. “Set up a meeting for three days from now. Good day, Satterthwaite, gentlemen.”
And that was it. Chris said a slightly more polite goodbye to the legal team, and the meeting was over.
*
Clem and Chriswere still discussing the marriage agreement, which was a monster, when Clem’s father dropped another verbal cannon ball to break the peace.
They were having dinner. All afternoon, Clem and Chris had been reading the marriage agreement clause by clause, and discussing what each clause meant and whether it contained fishhooks that would later catch them out. Clem invited Christo stay for dinner so they could carry on over the meal and afterward, but when Father unexpectedly joined them at the table, they kept the conversation general.
Until Father broke into a discussion of a balloon ascension that Clem wanted to attend to say, “I have booked St. George’s church for the fourth Monday of next month.”
Chris put down his cutlery and turned all his attention to Father.
“For the wedding?” Clem asked, just to be certain, but what else could it be?
“Of course, for the wedding,” said Father. “I wanted an earlier date, but they insisted they are fully booked.”
“We could use another church,” Chris suggested. “St. Martins, for example.”
“I would prefer St. Martins,” Clem agreed. It was her nearest church. She had been attending services there every Sunday since she was a small child.
Father, who had continued eating while Chris and Clem reacted to his statement, looked up from his plate and glared at his daughter.
“St. George’s is the place where the quality marry,” he said. “My daughter is having her wedding at St. George’s.”
“Many people—” Chris began, but Father interrupted.
“I hope you don’t plan to argue with every decision I make about the wedding, Satterthwaite. I have been planning this for a long time. I know just what I need to do to make it perfect, and I will not have you and Clementine opposing me.”
Clem subsided. When Father spoke like that, there was no point in arguing with him. Chris, though, cast her a quick worried glance, and made an attempt.
“It is Clem’s wedding, Mr. Wright. I want it to be perfect for her.”
“So do I, lad,” Father said. “So do I. And I have it planned, I tell you. You, young man, will not interfere.”
Chris opened his mouth again, but Clem saw her father’s jaw tighten and spoke up. “Chris, I am sure I will be happy with Father’s plans. What do you need me to arrange, Father? The gown? My attendants and their gowns? Bridal flowers? The wedding feast?” She was sure there were other matters such an event required. Perhaps Lady Ferndale would be willing to advise her.
Father’s glare had a discomforted edge that indicated he’d not thought of at least some of the items on her list.
“Yes, sir,” Chris agreed, taking her cue. “Let me know my tasks, sir. The wedding ring, the best man, and all the arrangements for the wedding trip, I assume, but I’m willing to assist with anything you assign to me.”
“Harrumph,” said Father.
Chapter Twelve
Clem was atthe next meeting with Father and the lawyers. She had met Harcourt, the senior man, before. On every occasion, he had spoken to her as if she was no more than ten years old and a halfwit. He glanced at Father in alarm when she walked in on Chris’s arm, pretending she had every right to be there.
Father did not object to her presence, but nor did he greet her. “That countess you mentioned,” he said to Chris. “Very important lady. No one wants to offend her, because she runs an assembly hall.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand the quality, and that’s a fact, but the thing is, she’s a banker. And a countess. Just like you said.”
Chris nodded, which was agreement enough for Father, for he was talking again. “Child, her gran’fer was. Robert Child. Left her the lot because he didn’t like his daughter marrying her Pa. And his widow ran the bank till the gel was old enough to take over.” He shook his head. “Smart women,” he said, and shook his head again.
“Like Clem,” Chris said, and Father barked a short laugh.
