Scandal in Spring (6 page)

"Mr. Swift," Westcliff said easily, as they met near the bottom of the grand staircase. "It seems you've returned early from your walk. I hope the views were pleasing?"

"The views were magnificent, my lord," Matthew replied. "I look forward to many such walks around the estate. I came back early because I happened to meet with Miss Bowman along the way."

"Ah." Westcliff's face was impassive. "No doubt that was a surprise for Miss Bowman."

And not a welcome one
was the unspoken subtext. Matthew met the earl's gaze without blinking. One of his more useful skills was that of being able to read the minute alterations in expression and posture that gave people's thoughts away. But Westcliff was an unusually self-controlled man. Matthew admired that.

"I think it's safe to say it was one of many surprises Miss Bowman has received recently," Matthew replied. It was a deliberate attempt to find out if Westcliff knew anything about the possible arranged marriage with Daisy.

The earl responded only with an infinitesimal lift of his brows, as if he found the remark interesting but not worthy of a response.
Damn,
Matthew thought with increasing admiration.

Westcliff turned to the black-haired man beside him. "Hunt, I would like to introduce Matthew Swift— the American I mentioned to you earlier. Swift, this is Mr. Simon Hunt."

They shook hands firmly. Hunt was five to ten years older than Matthew and looked as if he could be mean as hell in a fight. A bold, confident man who reputedly loved to skewer pretensions and upper-class affectations.

"I've heard of your accomplishments with Consolidated Locomotive Works," Matthew told Hunt. "There is a great deal of interest in New York regarding your merging of British craftsmanship with American manufacturing methods."

Hunt smiled sardonically. "Much as I would like to take all the credit, modesty compels me to reveal that Westcliff had something to do with it. He and his brother-in-law are my business partners."

"Obviously the combination is highly successful," Matthew replied.

Hunt turned to Westcliff. "He has a talent for flattery," he remarked. "Can we hire him?"

Westcliff's mouth twitched with amusement. "I'm afraid my father-in-law would object. Mr. Swift's talents are needed to built a factory and start a company office in Bristol."

Matthew decided to nudge the conversation in a different direction. "I've read of the recent movement in Parliament for nationalization of the British railroad industry," he said to Westcliff. "I would be interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter, my lord."

"Good God, don't get him started on that," Hunt said.

The subject caused a scowl to appear on Westcliff's brow. "The last thing the public needs is for government to take control of the industry. God save us from yet more interference from politicians. The government would run the railroads as inefficiently as they do everything else. And the monopoly would stifle the industry's ability to compete, resulting in higher taxes, not to mention— "

"Not to mention," Hunt interrupted slyly, "the fact that Westcliff and I don't want the government cutting into our future profits."

Westcliff gave him a stern glance. "I happen to have the public's best interest in mind."

"How fortunate," Hunt commented, "that in this case what is best for the public also happens to be best for you."

Matthew bit back a smile.

Rolling his eyes, Westcliff told Matthew, "As you can see, Mr. Hunt overlooks no opportunity to mock me."

"I mock everyone," Hunt said. "You just happen to be the most readily available target."

Westcliff turned to Matthew and said, "Hunt and I are going out to the back terrace for a cigar. Will you join us?"

Matthew shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't smoke."

"Neither do I," Westcliff said ruefully. "It has always been my habit to enjoy a cigar every now and again, but unfortunately the scent of tobacco is not welcomed by the countess in her condition."

It took a moment for Matthew to recall that "the countess" was Lillian Bowman. How odd that funny, feisty, furious Lillian was now Lady Westcliff.

"You and I will converse while Hunt has a cigar," Westcliff informed him. "Come with us."

The "invitation" didn't seem to allow the possibility of a refusal, but Matthew tried nonetheless. "Thank you, my lord, but there is a certain matter I wish to discuss with someone, and I— "

"That someone would be Mr. Bowman, I expect."

Hell,
Matthew thought.
He knows.
Even if it hadn't been for those words, he could tell by the way Westcliff was looking at him. Westcliff knew about Bowman's intention of marrying him off to Daisy…and not surprisingly, Westcliff had an opinion about it.

"You will discuss the matter with me first," the earl continued.

Matthew glanced warily at Simon Hunt, who gave him a bland look in return. "I'm certain," Matthew said, "that Mr. Hunt doesn't want to be bored by a discussion of someone else's personal affairs— "

"Not at all," Hunt said cheerfully. "I love hearing about other people's affairs. Particularly when they're personal."

The three of them went to the back terrace, which overlooked acres of manicured gardens separated by graveled paths and carefully sculpted hedges. An orchard of ancient pear trees was visible in the lush green distance. The breeze that swept across the gardens was thick with the perfume of flowers. The turgid rush of the nearby river underlaid the rustle of the wind in the trees.

Sitting at an outside table, Matthew forced himself to relax back in his chair. He and Westcliff watched Simon Hunt clip the end off a cigar with a pocket knife. Matthew remained silent, patiently waiting for Westcliff to speak first.

"How long," Westcliff asked abruptly, "have you known about Bowman's plan for you and Daisy to marry?"

Matthew replied without hesitation. "Approximately an hour and fifteen minutes."

"It wasn't your idea, then?"

"Not at all," Matthew assured him.

Settling back, the earl laced his fingers over the lean surface of his midriff, and surveyed him through narrowed eyes. "You have a great deal to gain by such an arrangement."

"My lord," Matthew said prosaically, "if I have one talent in life, it's making money. I don't need to marry into it."

"I'm glad to hear it," the earl replied. "I have one more question to ask, but first I will make my position clear. I have great affection for my sister-in-law, and I consider her under my protection. Being well acquainted with the Bowmans, you undoubtedly know about the close relationship between the countess and her sister. If anything were to make Daisy unhappy, my wife would suffer as a result…and I will not allow that."

"Understood," Matthew said tersely. There was biting irony in the fact that he was being warned away from Daisy when he had already resolved to do everything in his power to avoid marrying her. He was tempted to tell Westcliff to go to hell. Instead he kept his mouth shut and remained outwardly composed.

"Daisy has a unique spirit," Westcliff said. "A warm and romantic nature. If she is forced into a loveless marriage, she will be devastated. She deserves a husband who will cherish her for everything she is, and who will protect her from the harsher realities of the world. A husband who will allow her to dream."

It was surprising to hear such sentiment from Westcliff, who was universally known as a pragmatic and level-headed man. "What is your question, my lord?" Matthew asked.

"Will you give me your word that you will not marry my sister-in-law?"

Matthew held the earl's cold black gaze. It would not be wise to cross a man like Westcliff, who was not accustomed to being denied. But Matthew had endured years of Thomas Bowman's thunder and bluster, standing up to him when other men would flee in fear of his wrath.

Although Bowman could be a ruthless, sarcastic bully there was nothing he respected more than a man who was willing to go toe-to-toe with him. And so it had quickly become Matthew's lot in the company to be the bearer of bad tidings and deliver the hard truths that everyone else was afraid to give him.

That had been Matthew's training, which was why Westcliff's attempt at domination had no effect on him.

"I'm afraid not, my lord," Matthew said politely.

Simon Hunt dropped his cigar.

"You won't give me your word?" Westcliff asked in disbelief.

"No." Matthew bent swiftly to retrieve the fallen cigar and returned it to Hunt, who regarded him with a glint of warning in his eyes as if he were silently trying to prevent him from jumping off a cliff.

"Why not?" Westcliff demanded. "Because you don't want to lose your position with Bowman?"

"No, he can't afford to lose me right now." Matthew smiled slightly in an attempt to rob the words of arrogance. "I know more about production, administration, and marketing than anyone else at Bowman's…and I've earned the old man's trust. So I won't be dismissed even if I refuse to marry his daughter."

"Then it will be quite simple for you to put the entire matter to rest," the earl said. "I want your word, Swift.
Now
."

A lesser man would have been intimidated by Westcliff's authoritative demand. "I might consider it," Matthew countered coolly, "if you offered the right incentive. For example, if you promise to endorse me as the head of the entire division and guarantee the position for at least, say…three years."

Westcliff gave him an incredulous glance.

The tense silence was broken as Simon Hunt roared with laughter. "By God, he has brass ballocks," he exclaimed. "Mark my words, Westcliff, I'm going to hire him for Consolidated."

"I'm not cheap," Matthew said, which caused Hunt to laugh so hard that he nearly dropped his cigar again.

Even Westcliff smiled, albeit reluctantly. "Damn it," he muttered. "I'm not going to endorse you so readily— not with so much at stake. Not until I am convinced you're the right man for the position."

"Then it seems we're at an impasse." Matthew made his expression friendly. "For now."

The two older men exchanged a glance, tacitly agreeing to discuss the situation later, outside his hearing. That caused Matthew a twinge of sharp curiosity, but he mentally shrugged, knowing there was only so much he could control. At least he had made it clear that he could not be bullied, and he was leaving his options open.

Besides…he could hardly give his word on the matter when Bowman hadn't yet mentioned it to him.

Chapter 4

"Obviously Daisy is the runt of the
litter," Thomas Bowman said later that night, pacing back and forth across the small private receiving area attached to his room. He and Matthew had agreed to meet after supper while the other guests congregated downstairs. "She is undersized and frivolous. 'Give her a solid, practical name,' I told my wife when the child was born. Jane or Constance or something of the sort. Instead she chose Marguerite…
French,
mind you!…after a cousin on her maternal side. And then it degenerated further when Lillian, who was only four at the time, learned that Marguerite was the French word for a damned insignificant flower. But from then on Lillian called her Daisy, and it stuck…"

As Bowman continued to ramble, Matthew thought of how perfect the name was, the small white-petaled flower that appeared so delicate and yet was remarkably hardy. It said something that in a family of overpowering personalities that Daisy had always remained stubbornly true to her own nature.

"…obviously I would have to sugarcoat the deal," Thomas Bowman was saying. "I know you well enough to be certain that you would choose a very different sort of woman for yourself, one with more practical uses than a flighty slip of a girl like Daisy. Therefore— "

"No sugarcoating would be necessary," Matthew interrupted calmly. "Daisy…that is, Miss Bowman, is entirely— "
Beautiful. Desirable. Bewitching.
"— acceptable. Marrying a woman like Miss Bowman would be a reward in itself."

"Good," Bowman grunted, clearly unconvinced. "Very gentlemanly of you to say so. Still, I will offer you fair recompense in the form of a generous dowry, more shares in the company and so forth. You will be quite satisfied, I assure you. Now as to the wedding arrangements— "

"I didn't say yes," Matthew interrupted.

Bowman stopped pacing and sent him a questioning stare.

"To start with," Matthew continued carefully, "it is possible Miss Bowman will find a suitor within the next two months."

"She will find no suitors of your caliber," Bowman said smugly.

Matthew replied gravely despite his amusement. "Thank you. But I don't believe Miss Bowman shares your high opinion."

The older man made a dismissive gesture. "Bah. Women's minds are as changeable as English weather. You can persuade her to like you. Give her a posy of flowers, throw a few compliments in her direction…better yet, quote something from one of those blasted poetry books she reads. Seducing a woman is easily accomplished, Swift. All you have to do is— "

"Mr. Bowman," Matthew interrupted with a sudden touch of alarm. God in heaven, all he needed was an explanation of courtship techniques from his employer. "I believe I could manage that without any advice. That's not the issue."

"Then what…
ah.
" Bowman gave him a man-of-the-world smile. "I understand."

"You understand what?" Matthew asked apprehensively.

"Obviously you fear my reaction if you should decide later on that my daughter is not adequate to your needs. But as long as you behave with discretion, I won't say a word."

Matthew sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling weary. This was a bit much to face so soon after his ship had landed in Bristol. "You're saying you'll look the other way if I stray from my wife," he said rather than asked.

"We men face temptations. Sometimes we stray. It is the way of the world."

"It's not my way," Matthew said flatly. "I stand by my word, both in business and in my personal life. If or when I promise to be faithful to a woman, I would be. No matter what."