She nodded. “He couldn’t imagine it…unless there was strong proof.”
I handed her the card back, things finally fitting together for me. There was a reason I had run O’Flaherty Shipping successfully for this many years. I was talented at thinking outside the box, and I wasn’t afraid to be ruthless. “Then we force your father to confront the strongest proof we can offer.”
“But…” Her gray eyes swept up to mine, searching. “Even if we were somehow able to contrive such proof, Cunningham’s behavior would enrage Father. And even if you were involved in bringing the truth to light, he would still associate the moral taint with you. He would refuse to negotiate with your business any further. You can’t make such a sacrifice, not when it involves your company.”
I had been about to speak, but I stopped before the words came out. I had not thought of that particular consequence, and it was a serious one. O’Flaherty Shipping needed van der Sant and his ships, much more than he needed ours. Without this partnership, we would encounter a shrinking customer base and an ever faster-shrinking profit margin.
But perhaps O’Flaherty Shipping could manage. My father and I had run this business the way we felt was fair and just—with decent wages and honest practices, and I would not sabotage that principle now, especially not when an innocent girl was at risk. And there was the not-insignificant fact that I would be doing incredible injury to Cunningham’s reputation. That was perhaps enough salve to soothe whatever loss my company took as a result.
I put a hand on Birgit’s shoulder. “If it pro
tects you from that man, then it is truly no sacrifice. Give me this afternoon to plan and consult with some allies, and by tonight, we will have this figured out.”
For the first time since our interview had started, she dared a smile. It was small and tremulous and hesitant, but it was definitely a smile. “Do you really think so?”
I squeezed her shoulder as hundreds of possible scenarios ran through my mind—scenarios that ended with Cunningham shamed or even arrested, scenarios that ended with my company faltering despite all I had done to save it. But one look at the frail blond sitting beside me confirmed what I knew deep inside—there was only one decision I could make, as a woman who finally had enough power to protect other women.
“Yes, Birgit. I’m going to help you. You’ll see.”
“We should have done this a decade ago,” Julian said, tossing his pen onto the table. I set my own pen down, flexing my cramped hand. We’d been signing papers for what felt like hours, long enough that George was now asleep on a blanket on the floor while Ivy sprawled nearby reading a book.
“I disagree,” I said, reaching for a glass of water and wishing it were gin. “I think Molly would have murdered us for interfering with her company.”
“You’re probably right,” Julian conceded. His green eyes swept over the table with their seemingly endless stacks of paper. “Do you think—is it enough, I mean? And are we in time to make a difference?”
“I think anything before she’s actually married is in time,” I replied with a tired smile. “But will it be enough? I don’t know. Honestly, it depends on what she believes.”
“I hope she believes it’s enough,” Julian said. “For her sake, and for the sake of my new holdings in O’Flaherty Shipping.”
Me too, I added silently. Out loud, I said, “Thank you, Jules. I wouldn’t have been able to do this if it weren’t for you.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. I would have bought shares in Molly’s company in a heartbeat if I’d known what kind of danger she was in. I’m just glad you found enough people willing to part with their own shares.”
It had been tricky. About a month ago, after I’d come to London and grasped exactly how precarious Molly’s situation was, I’d visited my solicitors and set into motion a plan to quietly buy as many shares of O’Flaherty Shipping as possible. Of course, it would look suspicious if one person was snatching up any and all shares that shareholders were willing to sell, so Julian had agreed to help me. Together, we’d managed to carve out almost twenty percent of the shares—which, added with Molly’s shares, gave the three of us forty percent of the company. Not enough to dictate decisions, but maybe enough for the company to survive if the other members of the board made good on their threat to leave.
And then Julian and I had decided not to stop there. Using our old European connections, we discovered a Dutch shipping company that was looking for significant investors to grow its global fleet, and consequently, with a hefty sum and a few signatures, Julian and I were now among the chief shareholders in Van Der Sant Shipping, and we could gift those shares to Molly at any point.
Now, Molly’s former board members would no longer be able to weight the scales quite so much in their favor; between Molly, Julian and me, we now had millions of pounds secured in the business, a metaphorical safety net for Molly should her company crumble and fall.
I still hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
I still hoped she would marry me.
I set down my glass and then stretched myself along the floor next to George, curling my body around his chubby snoozing one, tracing one of his out-flung arms with my hand.
Julian watched me with amusement. “Miss Thomas’s children?”
I nodded, not looking away from George. He was such a perfect little replica of his parents, with Ivy’s darker coloring and black hair and already showing signs of Julian’s distinctive eyes and mouth. Would Molly and I have a child that was so obviously ours? With red hair and blue eyes and my grin and her freckles?
The thought was too painful to entertain for long.
“After Charlotte has the baby, they’re thinking of coming home to Coke Manor for a while,” I said, trying to cheer myself up. I loved my nieces and nephews dearly, and I’d always been close to my brother Thomas and his wife. Thomas and I had grown up with parents who loved us and loved each other and who’d made sure to remind us of those things frequently. So now, as an adult, I naturally craved the happy vitality of family life. When I was a younger man, I’d made something akin to a family in Europe with Julian and Molly and the Baron, but nothing could replace the connection I felt with my blood relatives. The longing I felt to be with them again.
That longing was especially strong, given that I would still be alone and unmarried when I rejoined them.
“How long until our work here is official?” Julian asked, changing the subject back to our new investments.
“I believe our signatures were the last ones required. My solicitor told me I should have confirmation of receipt of shares in two days.”
