CHAPTER 30 #2
A beatific smile lit up his wrinkled face.
“And then I shall create accurate tables for all to use freely—things like navigation tables, which will save countless lives by helping eliminate shipwrecks. The only reward I want is seeing all our new scientific innovations contribute to making the world a better place.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Cordelia. “I prefer the challenge of using my own head for calculations rather than a machine. And I like thinking about the human aspects of my business ventures, and how to create value and not just profits.”
Charlotte considered her friend’s words. Like herself, Cordelia kept her feelings well guarded. It was easy to see her as ruled by cold logic. But her stalwart support of her brother, along with her progressive views on business, revealed her heart was not made of steel rods and brass gears.
A glance at Sheffield showed he appeared to be thinking much the same thing.
“But as to making our partnership profitable, I owe you an apology, Mr. Sheffield.” Cordelia sat down rather heavily in one of the empty chairs around the table.
“With all the pressures of running the arbitrage calculations and the tables for Sir Charles, I’ve neglected our own business venture.
I’ve paid no attention to our investments, which was horribly unfair.
” A pause. “As I was asking you to oversee the operation before you had an opportunity to gain some experience in commerce.”
Sheffield’s expression went through a series of odd little contortions. “Actually, no apologies are necessary, Lady Cordelia. Miss Winchester and Miss Howe are extremely clever . . .”
He paused and turned to Wrexford. “Miss Winchester and Miss Howe are our other two business partners. The fact that they are women is why I couldn’t reveal their names to you in the first place.”
The earl nodded. “I understand. And given the circumstances, you needn’t worry about my investment. I don’t expect—”
The sudden crackle of papers caused him to fall silent. Sheffield extracted a packet from his pocket. To Charlotte, he looked a little sheepish as he offered it to Wrexford, whose eyes flared in surprise when he peeled back the covering to reveal a sheaf of banknotes.
“It so happens I can return your initial investment now,” explained Sheffield. “It goes without saying that you retain your stock in the company, and I expect that we’ll be paying handsome quarterly dividends going forward.”
Cordelia stared at him in mute shock.
Woodbridge let out a low whistle. “How did you manage to make all that money? I . . . I thought you weren’t very good at numbers.”
“I’m not,” answered Sheffield with a wry shrug. “I simply added up other variables in my head.”
“W-what variables?” stammered Cordelia.
Sheffield pursed his lips. “Well, it all started when Wrexford took me with him to see Hedley, the engineering fellow who invented Puffing Billy.”
“Yes, I remember,” mused the earl. “You seemed awfully intrigued with his model locomotive.”
“Well, the Ashton affair made it very clear that innovations in steam engines were very profitable, and the idea of moving engines seemed like a very revolutionary idea that would change transportation forever. So, as Lady Cordelia left the temporary running of the business to me, I made the decision to invest your money in Hedley’s idea. And then . . .”
“And then?” pressed Cordelia when Sheffield paused for breath.
“And then it turned out the owners of Wylam Colliery offered to buy me out at triple what I paid after the test model ran so well. I considered holding the investment, but when I had a chat with Lady Charlotte’s good friend Lord Sterling about the future of steam, he made a very interesting proposal. ”
With an owlish blink, the professor braced himself against the door molding. “Steam is a marvelous thing, is it not? A small steam engine would be enormously useful in turning the crank to my Computing Engine . . .”
“Quite marvelous,” agreed Sheffield. “As it turns out, Sterling and Mrs. Ashton have designed a new range of fabrics which are proving highly popular in the Netherlands and Prussia. Their mill is running at full capacity, so he suggested our company invest in building a second mill. What with Miss Winchester’s contacts in the shipping world and Miss Howe’s connections in America, I believe that as soon as this dratted war is over with our former colonies, we have the potential to open up a whole lucrative new market. ”
Sheffield clasped his hands behind his back.
“So, I sold half the shares in Puffing Billy—we can sell the rest at a later date, when they are even more valuable—and invested the funds with Sterling. Not only will we make money on the venture, but as you recall, Mrs. Ashton puts aside part of the mill’s profits for schooling and medical clinics for her workers, as well as generous bonuses. ”
“Brilliant,” murmured Cordelia. “Absolutely brilliant.”
A tentative smile blossomed on Sheffield’s face. “You mean I actually did something right?”
* * *
As the others fell into a lively discussion of the new business revelations, Wrexford took Charlotte’s arm and led her to a quiet nook next to the professor’s Computing Engine.
“It’s been quite an evening of revelations,” he murmured.
The brass and steel machinery cast hard-edged shadows over the painted plaster wall, but the earl’s presence seemed to soften all the stark angles, his flesh-and-blood warmth dispelling the metallic chill within the cramped space.
And yet she wished she could see his expression.
Flitting swirls of darkness lingered around his face.
“Indeed,” she said, attempting to match his drawl. “Let us hope that mayhem and murder—” To her dismay, her voice trembled and died, the words sticking like knife blades in her throat.
Wrexford slowly turned to face her and set his hands on the jut of her shoulders. “Come, come, the danger is over, Lady Charlotte.”
But what about the next threat?
This was the second time she had witnessed the earl come within a hairsbreadth of death. The thought of ever facing such a horror again threatened to squeeze the very marrow from her bones.
She was dimly aware of sounds in the room .
. . the gentle jostling as Woodbridge and Tyler linked arms with the professor and convinced him to return to his bed .
. . the murmur of Sheffield and Cordelia in private conversation .
. . the mingled sleep-soft breaths of boys and hound curled up in front of the fire. ...
But it was the skittery thump of her heart against her rib cage that filled her ears. Charlotte felt as if her chest might explode.
“Lady Charlotte?”
He sounded so very far away.
“Charlotte?” The whisper twined with her tangled hair.
She slid her hands inside his coat, her palms feeling the heat of his skin through the light layer of linen as she fumbled to draw him into her arms.
Thump, thump.
Wrexford went very still, save for a tiny pulsing beneath the left lapel of his coat.
A moment passed—or was it an hour? Charlotte tightened her hold. Be damned with abstractions. Let the minutes slip through her fingers. All that mattered was Wrexford was here.
And achingly, joyfully alive.
He shifted, his hands moving to frame her face and tilt it upward.
Candlelight flickered off the Engine’s brass rods, the muted gold sparks catching the curl of his lips as he said her name again. “Charlotte.”
“A-Alexander,” she murmured.
Silent laughter lit his eyes. “Are you sure that’s my given name? I think it may be Agamemnon.”
Charlotte smiled. “We’ve been over this before. I’m fairly certain it’s Alexander.”
“Hmmm.” His mouth feathered against her cheek. “Well, perhaps it’s time we settled the matter once and for all—”
A sudden wood-against-wood thud jarred them apart.
“Ah, I was hoping you would all still be awake!” Henning kicked the door shut behind him. “Thank God there’s still a bit of whisky left.”
Wrexford’s sigh—along with a wry oath—tickled against her flesh as he released his hold. “Is there a reason you’re here at this hour?” he called to the surgeon. “Other than to drain my wine cellar?”
“Yes.” A noisy slurp. “Kindly tell Griffin to stop sending your dead bodies to my mortuary.” Another splash, another slurp. “By the by, who killed Lord Copley?”
“It’s a lengthy story,” replied the earl, moving out from behind the Engine. “Suffice it to say, the culprits have been caught, and the murders involving us are over.”
Henning chuffed a skeptical sound. “For now.”
Bereft of Wrexford’s touch, Charlotte hugged her arms to her chest, feeling the shadows darken and turn cold as ice as they swirled around her, squeezing the air from her lungs. She took a moment to shake off the sensation, then followed him out into the light.
Only to find the intensity of her emotions had left her utterly spent.
“I-it’s late . . . and there’s much to be done in the coming hours, so I had better take my leave,” she announced. “Mr. Fores needs a drawing from me, and first thing in the morning, Alison must be informed of all that has happened.”
The note in her voice roused the others. The boys came instantly awake and scrambled to their feet. Sheffield edged back from his tête-à-tête with Cordelia and cleared his throat.
“Indeed, I ought to be going, as well,” he said, retrieving his hat from the side table.
“So should I,” added Cordelia hastily. “I’ll find Jamie and we’ll make our way home.”
Wrexford said nothing, and his face was impossible to read.
“Hmmph, I seem to have blown in like a storm cloud and cast a shadow over the celebration,” observed Henning. “But before you all go, allow me to offer a toast.”
He picked up the near-empty bottle and splashed the rest of its contents into his glass. “To peace and quiet . . .” A whisper of amber-gold liquid swirled in a slow spinning vortex. “Though with this group, that’s likely wishful thinking. But you never know. Miracles do happen.”