Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth came daily, a bright spot in Zachary’s day. With Elizabeth he started to connect more with people. She didn’t let him pull away like he did in the past.
Her face had ink spots. How enchanting she was.
“I’ve been battling with these accounts since nine o’clock this morning.” She twiddled the fountain pen, earning a stain of inkblots. “I’ve discovered the bookkeeper was creating fake sales receipts to artificially inflate revenue,” she said looking up from the minefield of ledgers.
“That bad.”
She reared her head. “I’m doing my best with the chaos of your accounts not to fall into a coma.”
“Miss Spencer, I find you impertinent, stubborn and steadfast. I find it incomprehensible why you help me.”
“I find you humorless and my life’s goal will be to put a smile on your face.”
“Is that all?” He took out a handkerchief and wiped a smudge of ink from her face. He liked the blush that stole across her face.
She cleared her throat. “You are the underdog against Goliaths. Most of all, you need a friend, and if I don’t do this, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I must say I love how your spar with me over accounts with that brilliant business expertise of yours.”
“Is that all?” she mimicked.
“You are seeking compliments, Miss Spencer. I must say I like the way you question me with the different ways you consider things.”
“Who knows, maybe someday, you’ll invite me to help run your business.”
“Be careful or I’ll send you back to your mother and infinite tea parties.”
“You are a despot.” Her words were cut off by the chiming of a Bedford clock, and she slid off her stool and moved to the drafting tables. “I’d like you to show me your plans.”
“When inventing, I must get used to sometimes being ignored and almost always to be considered with indifference. It’s a work hazard.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’ll decide that.”
“These plans are for a new engine.” For a few moments, he puzzled over a few drafts, recognized the problem.
“Here,” he said quickly flipping over the drawing and taking a pencil from his pocket.
“It’s easier to understand this way.” He drew a picture of what was required, indicating the outlay of his diagram with simple lines.
It took some doing, taking his pocketknife out of his pocket to renew the point of the soft lead.
He was a natural draftsman, twisting and abstracting images, as if feeling his growing powers.
He was good at what he did, and he knew it.
It was not a juvenile notion. He simply accepted what was his.
Every time he turned a page of his designs and looked up, he was confronted with an expectant gaze.
“I marvel at your genius,” she said breathlessly.
O’Reilly clamped his pipe in his teeth and drew back the shirt sleeve of first one arm then the other. Both were knotted with muscles.
Dyer pulled up in his carriage and leaned his arm out the window. “I understand you’ve had a bit of bad news.”
“Interesting you should be so thorough,” said Zachary.
“I’m always concerned about my investments,” he sighed, flicking a thick nubbin of ash from the end of his cigar. He arched a brow, looked behind Zachary, eyeing the remaining ruins of the factory.
Elizabeth sidled next to Zachary’s side.
Dyer stared daggers at Zachary, and then at Elizabeth. His eyes shone like amber fire. Zachary saw the awakening of lust in Dyer that not even a row of chorus girls could have aroused. He pushed her behind him.
“Elizabeth, you should not be with unsuitable company and unescorted. Think of your status.”
“My lady’s maid is with me.”
“It is highly inappropriate for you to be here. Your western friend is a ticklish sort, my dear. He needs to prove things. He copes remarkably well, but surely you realize his ambition is aggravated by his scarcity of funds.” Dyer set his gaze on Zachary as if he were something offensive he found on the sidewalk.
The oil baron shot his cuffs and brushed his lapels, seeming more concerned with his appearance.
“New York City, Mr. Rourke, is a strumpet who whispers her tales in the ears of whoever will listen. I have many sources. We can go head-to-head for the time being, playing cat and mouse for God knows how long,” Dyer taunted.
“Time for me to be the cat. I understand some are poor with numbers. Should have had financial padding for a rainy day?”
“I have plenty left over.”
“So, you are a genius,” mocked the oil baron.
“You underrate me, Mr. Dyer.”
“On the contrary.”
A brief silence followed, with Dyer’s bottomless eyes drilling into Zachary’s.
“You must loan Mr. Rourke more money,” said Elizabeth.
“The well has run dry, my dear.”
“We all know you are the one behind this latest destruction,” said Zachary. “Add the lateness in supplies, lack of materials by suppliers.”
“Are you doubting my honor?”
“I am not doubting your honor. I’m disproving its existence.”
“You dare to accuse me?”
“You’re damned right.”
Dyer snorted, made a show of taking out his violet-stitched handkerchief and covering his nose as if the air were foul. “No one could ever prove such a thing. Looks like I’ll be the owner of your patent.”
“Over my dead body.”
“So be it.” Dyer tipped his bowler, clapped the side of his carriage, leaving Zachary in his dust.
“I’ve never seen this side of him. How horrid,” said Elizabeth, moving to Zachary’s side.
“It means we are out of funds to rebuild. We might as well close our doors. Dyer has won,” said Zachary.
“Not yet,” said Elizabeth. “I have jewels that I can sell.”
“I’m not taking your money under any circumstances.”
“Pride is a luxury you cannot afford. Are you going to let Dyer beat you?”
Zachary turned to walk away. Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Don’t look for finality. Just pick yourself up.”
Zachary ripped his arm from her and walked away.
Elizabeth had witnessed Zachary’s tone with Dyer. Indeed, he had emerged like a cougar, a large and sleepy one, still purring politely, but switching its tail.
“Let the man be for a while.” O’Reilly puffed on his pipe. “He’s not a quitter. Just has his back to the wall.”
“I’ll go to my father.”
“Not a chance, I’m sorry to say,” said O’Reilly. “The Spencer dynasty is too busy collecting railroads, banks and plots of land the size of small states. Do you think your father might relish Zachary’s downfall, too?”
Her throat closed in, the air thickening with unspoken emotions.
Might her father wish such a thing? Was he involved?
How little she knew about her father hit her right between the eyes.
Should she confront her father? No. Her instincts told her he would never divulge the truth.
She loved and adored her father. His abandonment of her during her time of need to Missouri reared its ugly head.
His betrayal was a knife to her heart and to say otherwise would be to accept the seductive comfort of self-delusion.
She had stared at the white wave of hair artfully arranged above Dyer’s ear, idly wondering if her anger would be enough to ignite it. The man she had admired her whole life turned out to be a ruthless thug.
Elizabeth preferred the oil magnate when he embarked on his banal conversations—when he stopped speaking his face seemed to change and the air thickened around him.
How she wished to challenge him, words had threatened to spill from her lips like marbles scattering across a tile floor, so she had bit her tongue to stop them.
And then, nerves rattled up her spine. How strange Dyer still clung to the same handkerchief she had made him.
She drew in a deep breath. How could she make it up to Zachary? “What could he do without money?”
O’Reilly set his jaw. “I’m not letting Fiona down. The way I see things is…just a suggestion–my soon to be brother-in-law has resources where you could hock those jewels. Perhaps a surprise package of bills might anonymously be placed on Zachary’s desk with no one to know anything about it.”
Elizabeth picked up her skirts and dashed to her carriage.
“Where are you going?” called O’Reilly.
No longer was she the na?ve little girl imprisoned in a gilded cage. “I’m going to meet with Fiona and her infamous brother.”
“Make sure you don’t tell him I’m going to be related. He’ll kill me before I reach the altar.”
“There is no way that will happen.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because Fiona would kill him first.”