Page 73 of Hearts of Briarwall

“She is not seeking his approval,” Spencer said. “Merely letting him know of her intentions.”

“He will not release the funds.”

“It is my understanding that the funds are her own. Or will be shortly.”

“Ah.” Sir Lawrence waved his hand as if shooing a fly. “A needless endeavor, then.”

Spencer chuckled. “I beg your pardon, but as the party seeking investors, no matter the sum, I take exception to the word ‘needless.’”

“Superfluous, then.”

Spencer frowned. “How so?”

“You see ...” Sir Lawrence took to perusing the bookshelves. “In the near future, mine and Miss Wooding’s fortunes will combine.”

Spencer’s jaw clenched.

Sir Lawrence turned to him, his drink sloshing in the glass. “So, my investment will be her investment, and hers mine and so forth.”

The man waited to be asked further details. Spencer could see it in the lift of his brow and chin. It was perhaps the most expressive he’d ever seen the man.

He took a breath and nodded. “Does Miss Wooding know of this ... merger?”

Sir Lawrence’s smug look faltered but he recovered it. “It has been some time in the making.”

Spencer fought to keep his own expression as neutral as a cat’s. “But you’ve declared yourself? About your monetary takeover, I mean?”

“Well,” the man said, his gaze narrowing. “Not yet. But it is understood.”

“Is it?” Spencer nodded. “Splendid. In my interactions with Miss Wooding during my stay here, I must say she’s given no hint she has an understanding with anyone.”

“Well, that is because it is an understanding between me and Mr. Wooding.”

Spencer’s brows rose. “I see.” Actually, he couldn’t. No matter that he could have no interest in Lydia, he couldn’t for the life of him see how Andrew would select this wooden plank of a man for his vivacious sister. “So, it stands that Lydia herself has no idea of an understanding.”

Sir Lawrence pulled out his white handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “It does not signify.Andrewis aware of my intentions for Miss Wooding.”

“Your intentions to take over her finances?” Spencer bit back a smile and folded his arms. “Would this be an advisory position? Or more like piracy?”

Sir Lawrence’s features became as stone. “I am not a barbarian, Mr. Hayes. Miss Wooding’s finances are her own.”

Spencer nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. “I must have misunderstood when you said yours and Miss Wooding’s finances are to combine.” He put his hand up to stop Sir Lawrence’s next argument. Provoking the man was counterproductive, to say the least. He bowed his head. “Forgive me, sir. There is something about this house that provokes one to banter. Especially over things of little importance. Don’t you agree?” He turned away to inspect a globe of the earth. Birmingham was such a small speck.

“Indeed,” Sir Lawrence said cautiously. “Mother has expressed something similar after our evenings here. I often leave with a mild headache.”

“And yet you keep coming back,” Spencer muttered to himself. He turned, brightening his expression. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like to discuss motorcars and how to keep them running. Much better than a headache. What say you?”

Sir Lawrence inhaled deeply and let it out, his gaze direct. “That would be most welcome.” His features smoothed over with a pleasant look. “I’ve spoken with some associates of mine. A select few with deep pockets. They want in.”

Spencer’s pulse quickened though he kept his expression neutral. “That is good news. I believe I can be candid with you. Is their interest tied to the Wooding name?”

Sir Lawrence frowned. “If you are asking if they will only invest if Andrew Wooding invests, then no. If anything, their interest is tied to mine. They trust my good judgment. However, Mr. Hayes, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this opportunity stands on its own merit. Anyone with a sense for these things will see it. I’d wager even Mr. Wooding sees it. He just can’t get past the sentimental notion that a car killed his parents.”

Spencer narrowed his gaze at the flippant tone but kept his voice calm. “Theywerein a car accident. The brakes gave out. It was entirely out of their hands. I do not fault Andrew for remaining wary.”

Sir Lawrence eyed the griffin clock with disinterest and turned. “You are more generous than I. Everybody knows the elder Mr. Wooding could not resist pushing his vehicle to its highest speeds. There was not a hay wagon or bicycler he did not pass with a tap of his horn. Story after story came out after the accident of townsfolk nearly or absolutely run off the road by the Wooding motorcar. Gads, man, did you ever lay eyes on the thing?”

Spencer had. On his second trip to Briarwall, Mr. Wooding had eagerly shown Spencer his Arnold Benz. At the time, it was a wonder. A posh, open carriage with a raised bench seat for two, a central steering wheel, and not much more. Nothing in front, where horses might have been hitched were it not a self-locomotive, and a rear-facing seat in back. Andrew’s father had been giddy with excitement, and Spencer had been caught up in his spirit of possibilities.

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