Dangerous Seduction: A Nemesis Unlimited Novel (39 page)

“With no back wages,” added Gorley, a child determined to get in the final word.

“None of you are in the position to make decisions about hiring and firing,” Simon explained. “That’s for Miss Carr and these fine gentlemen to decide.”

“They’ll be fired, but we’ll have you sent to St. Lawrence’s Hospital,” Murton shot back. “Lock you up with the other madmen.”

In response, Simon pulled the ownership transfer papers from his portfolio and handed them to Murton. The man put on his spectacles and read, the other two managers reading over his shoulders.

“In short,
gentlemen,
” Simon said, “that document is signed by Messrs. Harrold, Tufton, and Stokeham, the owners of the Greater Cornwall Mining Endeavor, which, at one time, possessed Wheal Prosperity. By their own hands, they’ve transferred ownership to a collective made up of these men.” He nodded to the workers standing behind him. “And Miss Carr,” he added.

She tipped her head regally at him.

“They … they wouldn’t do that!” Ware objected. He looked as chalky as the cliffs of Sussex.

“But they did,” Simon noted, “and Murton holds the proof.”

The managers stood like Lot’s wife, pale and silent. Simon could see their minds frantically trying to come up with a way out, or considering the possibility that this could all be a hoax. Yet the more they stared at the documents, then looked up at Simon and the others, the more it seemed to dawn on them that there was no mistake.

At last, Simon plucked the papers from Murton’s shaking hand, and replaced them in the portfolio. He turned to the others. “Gentlemen, and lady, the question now stands. As the owners of Wheal Prosperity, would you like these men”—he nodded to Murton, Ware, and Gorely—“to remain on as managers of the mine?”

“I believe in fairness,” Alyce said. “We’ll put it to a vote. New owners, all in favor of keeping them, raise your hands.”

No hands went up.

“And who wants to see them sacked like so many potatoes?”

Everyone’s hands rose. Not just the workers and Alyce, but the clerks, too.

“Not you?” snarled Gorley to Simon.

“I’m not one of the owners. Merely a facilitator of the process.”

Alyce folded her arms across her chest. “The Yanks seem to have the right idea with this democracy idea. The owners of Wheal Prosperity have spoken. Time to grab your kits and shovel off.”

Ware sputtered, “But—”

“It’s not polite to argue with a lady,” Henry pointed out.

“So pack it in,” added Edgar.

Dazed, the three men headed toward the door. But Murton paused at the threshold. “This won’t go unanswered,” he spat. “Anyone can throw some papers around and say they’re genuine, but the truth will be uncovered. And then you’ll all be imprisoned, thrown into an asylum, or forced into a workhouse—if you’re fortunate.”

“You’re right about one thing,” Simon noted. “The truth
will
be uncovered. But it won’t be the truth you want.”

“Hang on,” said Gorely. “You don’t sound the same.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Simon smiled. “I’m from Nemesis.”

The three men bolted, the door swinging wide open behind them like a gaping mouth.

*   *   *

It didn’t take long for word of the managers’ firing and the change of ownership to reach the mine itself. Simon watched from the doorway of the bachelors’ lodging, Alyce beside him, as the high street filled with jubilant workers. An impromptu celebration broke out, full of cheers, some tears, and much shaking of hands and slapping of backs. The tavern opened casks of ale outside. Men knocked tankards together, toasting their new freedom. Someone played a fiddle and women danced. Children played in the street, reprieved from work and school.

“They don’t know,” Alyce murmured beside him. “It’s not over.”

“Some understand.” A few dozen men talked quietly, soberly among themselves, their women listening attentively. Mostly they were the men who’d been involved in Simon’s scheme from the beginning, and who’d heeded his warnings. Henry was among them, his arm protectively around Sarah’s shoulders. Tension radiated from the group, which some of the celebrants seemed to notice. Others continued to make merry, little knowing what was coming.

“And not everyone’s celebrating.” She nodded toward a grim-faced Tippet, standing outside the constabulary office and watching the celebration. The constables Oliver, Freeman, and Bice stood close by. Oliver kept a tight grip on his truncheon, and Freeman had his arms crossed over his big chest. Bice’s expression seemed deliberately blank. “Why don’t they clear off, too?”

“The managers and owners didn’t pay their salaries—that’s county business. No doubt Murton and the others filled their pockets to keep things even more
orderly.
They’ll stay until they know for certain that the old regime’s out.”

Alyce gave a small shiver. “Won’t be pleasant when it sinks in.”

Thus the reason why he’d declined offers of free drink. All they had were hours before the final confrontation.

Only hours left with Alyce. He’d have to go back to London as soon as the situation was resolved here—always more missions, more in need of help. Each minute now slipped by, impossible to hold.

Damn it, he just wanted to hold her sodding
hand,
touch her a little, but he couldn’t. Not here, on the high street, where anyone could see and know. If he were a village lad, he could clasp her hand with his, an announcement of his intentions. He wasn’t a village lad. To hold her hand in public, declaring his claim, and then to leave her—it’d be considered a humiliation. He couldn’t do that to her.

He sucked in a breath when
she
took
his
hand. Pressed her palm and wove her fingers with his. A bold assertion, and when he glanced over at her, she stared back, defiant.

Let them look,
her gaze said.
This is ours.

But only for now.

A true gentleman would’ve pulled his hand free, protecting her from herself. But she was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. And he was selfish enough to want the feel of her skin, for a little longer. For as long as he could have it.

Edgar disengaged from the group of new owners of the mine and ambled toward Simon and Alyce. The older man’s gaze snagged on their interlocked hands, and he raised a brow, but said nothing about it.

“Come and help us convince Henry to manage the mine,” Edgar said.

“Couldn’t think of a more perfect bloke for the job,” Simon answered.

Alyce snorted. “I’d wager he’s being his typical modest self.”

Edgar grinned. “That’s the way of it.”

Without another word, Alyce marched to the group of men. She didn’t relinquish Simon’s hand, so they walked together, and with each step, his heart ached more. Another pleasure that was fleeting.

They reached the gathering of the mine’s new owners. Everyone stopped talking, staring at Alyce and Simon’s joined hands. Expressions of shock flitted across many faces, especially Henry’s. Alyce returned every stare with her own cool resolve.
Judge me or don’t,
her look said.
I don’t give a ruddy damn.

Listen to the lady, friends,
his own countenance said. If she didn’t care, neither did he. All he wanted was what he couldn’t have.

“What’s this nonsense about you not wanting to be the new manager, Henry?” she demanded without preface.

Her brother tore his surprised gaze from her joined hand up to her face. “I’m a miner, not a manager. You need classes or schooling or something for a big job like that.”

“The only qualification the old managers had was their greed,” Simon answered. “Nobody knows the working of the mine the way you do.”

“You’ve always looked after us,” Nathaniel said. “Settled differences between the workers. Tried to keep us happy even when the managers didn’t give a pig’s arse. There’s nobody better for the job than you.”

The gathered men and women added their agreement.

Uncertainty flickered across Henry’s face, but beneath that was pleasure and eagerness. He’d be a good manager, if only because he couldn’t dissemble.

Henry glanced down at Sarah with a worried frown. “Might not be around as much to help with the baby.”

“It’s too bad these are so useless.” Alyce let go of Simon’s hand, then held hers up. She rolled her eyes. “I’ll always be there for you and the baby, and all the other babies.”

The sentiment was a good one, but it only served to remind Simon that Alyce’s life was here, in this village, with her family. They needed her.

So do you.

He smothered that voice. He’d given up more than he could enumerate for Nemesis. Alyce would be another loss. One he’d have to learn to endure. It might take him a lifetime to learn, but he’d force himself.

Sarah rose up on her toes and kissed her husband, pride shining in her eyes. “This is what you were meant to do.”

After a moment, Henry nodded. He seemed to grow a foot taller, his chest widening, his shoulders broadening, as he accepted his new responsibility. “Edgar, Nathaniel, Travis—you’ll be assisting me.”

“Yes, sir,” the men answered, smiling.

Uncertainty fell away from Henry. “First thing that needs to be done is a full survey of the mine itself. We’ve got equipment down there that’s needed replacing for years. Edgar, grab Douglas and Percy to run the man-engine so we can get down into the pit.”

“Now?” Edgar asked, glancing at the celebrating workers.

“Now.”

Alyce grinned. “You put a Carr in charge of the mine. Did you think we’d take even a day off?”

Though he grumbled, Edgar smiled as he hurried off to find the lads to run the man-engine. Hopefully, they hadn’t drunk too much of the free ale.

“Change begins today,” Nathaniel said with a smile.

“Three and a half hours,” Simon answered.

Questioning frowns were angled in his direction.

He pulled out his pocket watch. “By now, the managers have already made it to St. Ursula and the telegraph station. They’ve wired the owners in Plymouth. It’ll take the owners thirty minutes to round up their attorneys, then head to the train station. Figure about two more hours by train—it won’t be fast or direct. St. Ursula isn’t on a main line. The owners will reach it by one-thirty, and meet up with the managers. They’ll hire some carriages since they can’t all fit on the managers’ trap. The roads between here and St. Ursula aren’t straight, and even at top speed, it’ll take them an hour to get to Trewyn. That’s a total of three hours and thirty minutes until we see them again.”

He snapped his watch shut and slipped it back into his waistcoat pocket as the people around him gaped. Only Alyce didn’t look surprised at his precise analysis. She knew him—more than anyone. Better even than Marco, Eva, and especially his family.

“Whoever isn’t going with Henry to the mine,” he continued, “we’ll need you here for when the managers and owners arrive.”

“They won’t try anything, will they?” asked Dan Bowden. “The mine’s legally ours.”

“Men forced into a corner do anything to survive,” Simon answered. “Doesn’t matter if they’re street-born brutes or supposed
gentlemen.
In three and a half hours, be prepared—for anything.”

“This is what we’ve been wanting for over ten years,” Alyce added. “And if it comes down to a fight, then I’m damned ready. You’d better be, too.”

The group made sounds of agreement. They dispersed, looking grim but resolute, with Henry leading several of the men in discussion.

Three hours. Thirty minutes. Less, now. Each minute crept away. He couldn’t slam his boot heel down on time to keep it in place.

“You can’t be nervous,” Alyce said quietly.

“A little.” He had to give her perfect honesty. “Wounded animals are the most dangerous, unpredictable, and the managers and owners are wounded. And it looks like Tippet and his crew are spoiling for a fight.”

Standing in the doorway of the constabulary office, the chief loomed, primed as dynamite, waiting for the spark. A spark that would arrive in a little over three hours.

“Can’t imagine that a bunch of fat men in bowler hats mean trouble to someone from Nemesis.” She cast him a glance. “But I’ve learned that appearances aren’t reliable. A machinist can be a gentleman’s son.”

“And a bal-maiden can be an Amazon warrior with a kiss like sin and redemption.”

He liked that even after all they’d done together, and despite her bravado, he could still make her blush.

Hand in hand, they walked away from the high street, turning down one of the little lanes that led out of the village. In a moment, they wandered about the surrounding hills. The sky was a hazy, pale blue, not quite sunny, not quite overcast. As if it, too, held itself in suspension, waiting for what was to come.

The countryside had a spare, wild beauty, the wind brisk as it curved along the hills—so different from the racket and crowding of London. Getting used to that cacophony, beloved as it was, would be an adjustment. He imagined many restless nights when he returned.

But it wouldn’t be the noise that would keep him awake, or make closing his eyes a torment.

“What’s going to happen?” she asked.

It took him a moment to realize she was speaking of the managers and owners returning to the village.

“Words won’t be enough,” he said. “With Tippet at the ready, and the others out for any kind of blood, there’ll be some kind of explosion.”

Solemn, she nodded, her gaze fixed on her boots. “We’ll be ready.”

He stopped walking. Pulled her to him. They sank into a deep, aching kiss, and he hoped she was memorizing the taste and feel of him the way he did her sweet fire. He had a good memory. He’d never lose these sensations. Would force every part of himself to hold to her memory.

How could he miss her, when she was right here, in his arms? Yet he did.

They broke apart, their heads tipping together so their foreheads touched and their breath mingled. Though they stood in the middle of a field, with the countryside rolling all around them in green waves, the world was pared down to them, and them alone.