Page 7 of The Lyon Returns
“With or without access to my bank account?”
Gwen made a valiant effort to tamp down on her rising temper. “Without. The publishing house I wish to buy has a block of stakeholders with a vested interest in the continued viability of the company. The sale must be approved by a unanimous vote.”
He grunted in acknowledgment.
“They have certain requirements. I meet all, save one.”
A look of dawning understanding lit his eyes.
“In addition to having the financial means to cover the purchase, and a certain amount of expertise in the field, any potential owner must also have social standing.”
His brows puckered. “Social standing?”
“In the case of a man, he would be someone well-to-do, someone socially connected, say, a peer or a member of the upper crust of society. A woman, conversely, should bemarriedto a man such as the aforementioned.”
“Ah.”
“The stakeholders made it quite clear that even if she has the means and the experience to run the organization they would not relinquish the reins of the company to a woman with no connections, widowed, married, or otherwise.”
“I take it you have none?”
She gave him a cool smile. “My uncle is a member of the peerage, but he is not local and has not moved in society for some time.”
He tapped one finger on the desktop in an absent manner. “I see. Hence, remaking yourself as a married womanwithconnections,” he summarized.
“Precisely.” She sent him a brief, approving smile. “I made an offer as Mrs. Gwendolyn Devereux, wife of one of England’s most successful shipping merchants.” She scowled, thinking again of all the negotiations she’d been forced to endure the last several weeks. “One would think that would have put a period on the matter.”
“A period?”
“A metaphor for finalizing the deal,” she explained, waving one hand.
The corners around his eyes crinkled, and his mouth curved in a grin that, for the first time since he’d entered the room, communicated genuine warmth. “Spoken like a true editor.”
For no apparent reason, she lost track of her story. She smiled backat him. “Yes, well, I am that, am I not?”
He inclined his head. “Am I to understand the sale did not go through?”
“It did notnotgo through. In point of fact, we’ve spent the last two weeks hammering out an agreeable settlement. The entire process has proved tedious in the extreme.” She gestured toward the papers on his desk. “By some miracle, I finally convinced them to see reason concerning a few minor but key issues, and was just giving the purchase contract one last look-see before signing when you burst in.”
He nodded sagely. “Burst in. To my own home.”
She was instantly chagrined. “Forgive me. For some odd reason, I have lost my usual affinity with the English language.”
“Imagine that.” He finished his brandy and unfolded his lean body from his chair.
She tensed. In all likelihood, he intended to toss her out on her ear now that she’d satisfied his curiosity. She eyed her untouched glass, and, shrugging inwardly, picked it up and took a healthy swallow.
Devereux rounded his desk and eased a hip onto the edge not two feet from her chair, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her as if unwittingly fascinated.
She took that as a good sign. Fascination beat vexation any day.
Regardless, she did not particularly enjoy huddling like a cornered hare while he stood over her.Loomed, she thought, and smiled to herself. At last, she’d found the appropriate word.
“I have so many questions, assuming your story is not a complete fabrication.”
At this rate, she would get a stiff neck. That decided matters. She rose to her feet which had the unfortunate effect of putting her nearly toe to toe with him. Far too close for comfort.
