Love Engineered (17 page)

I haven't told him anything other than the fact that you can give him information on Mr Adams, so if you choose not to take the final step to reveal – you can say you're Mr Adams's agent, or such. Mr Ashton and his partners intend to call on you on their way to the Tamar bridge works in a few days' time.

I hope I haven't been too presumptuous in any of these actions.

Etc

Mr Russell gave little away, but the news that Mr Lucas appeared to believe her side of the story gave her great solace. She checked her image in the mirror. She looked well enough: her hair tied expertly, her dress of light pink cotton, one of the newer ones purchased in Paris. It was very becoming, the height of fashion. Not that he would notice. That was her only regret. She could be the most beautiful woman in the world and he wouldn't care.

Finally, she found herself opening the drawing room door and stepping in.

The three gentlemen were standing in different places around the room. Mr Ashton was the nearest and, upon seeing her enter, stepped forward to greet her.

“How do you do?” she curtsied.

He took her outstretched hand. “Well. Thank you, Miss Thomas, I am very pleased to see you again. I hope you do not mind our intrusion, but we come on business.”

“Not at all,” she said.

“You know Mr Lucas of course.” She turned to where Mr Ashton indicated and allowed herself to look at him. He looked well; his hair was longer than usual and his complexion was clear and bright. But it was his eyes that showed the truth, they were dark and assessing. To her disappointment he didn't move closer and remained the six or seven steps away. His distance only served as a reminder that she had missed his tall, handsome figure in a room.

“Mr Lucas, I'm very pleased to see you again.”

“Miss Thomas,” he replied with a bow, and kept his gaze on her.

“How are your mother and sister?”

“They are well, thank you,” he replied.

“I . . . I'm glad of it.” She paused to try and stop her blushes, before she continued with great composure, “Will you give them my best regards when you see them next?”

“Of course,” he said, then looked away. Their conversation was now over, it seemed. She took it to mean that he no longer wished to talk to her and disappointment surged through her. She had hoped things would be different between them despite their last conversation, but it appeared nothing had changed. Had he read her letter? Had he listened to all that Mr Russell had told him? Maybe he still blamed her. Maybe, despite everything, he disliked her so much that nothing could counter it.

Mr Ashton then continued, “And this is Mr Henry Boyd, our new partner.”

“I'm pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.

Mr Boyd was a handsome man by any standards and his manner seemed pleasing. He was young, no more than twenty-five, and taller than the others. His frame was large but though in some this would cause clumsiness, Mr Boyd held himself well. Jane had excellent taste. But she expected nothing less. She recollected herself. “I believe you're all here to see Mr Adams?”

“Yes. Is there some way we can get a message to him? We would like to speak to him,” Ashton said.

“Mr Adams is not available, but anything you wish to say to him can be said to me. I'm his agent.”

Louise saw Ashton steal a sly glance at Mr Lucas, as if unsure what to say next. He drew himself up. “I hope you do not think me rude, but we really would prefer to speak to Mr Adams directly. Would you tell me how I can contact him?” He gave an apologetic smile.

“I'm afraid that is not possible.” She tilted up her chin, daring him to question her further.

“We have urgent business,” Ashton said. “And in order to protect Mr Adams's investments, we must speak with him. Our letters have been returned and you are our only means of contact with him.”

“And I'm telling you that he is not available and you must speak to me.” She tried to remain polite, though she was starting to grow annoyed.

Ashton seemed to sense her irritation and cleared his throat. “Forgive me madam, but how can we be sure that Mr Adams has you as his proxy in these matters?”

She thought for a moment. He had a point. It seemed there was no way around this. She trusted two out of the three, but wasn't entirely sure whether she should run such a risk in disclosing the vital information to the third.

“Mr Boyd is an equal partner now, you said?”

“Yes,”

“All the necessary paperwork for this has been completed and signed?”

“Yes, it was completed more than a month ago. May I enquire as to where these questions are leading?”

“Merely, I needed to ascertain whether Mr Boyd could be trusted to keep Mr Adams's secret. As a partner he will lose too much if he divulges anything.”

“What secret might that be?” Ashton asked.

“I am Robert Adams.”

Silence descended on the room after her words were spoken. She hoped someone would say something, but no one did. Louise watched as Ashton looked at his partners, obviously hoping they would speak. Both Mr Lucas and Mr Boyd seemed stunned into silence. Eventually, after Ashton shifted about a little, he asked, “You are Robert Adams?”

“Yes,” she said. “We're one and the same. Robert Adams is the name I use for my investments. I'm sorry your letters were returned by my assistant; it seems he followed my request too stringently. When I told him to return any letters from Mr Lucas and his family, I didn't mean him to include business letters to Robert Adams. But it's my own fault, I should have been more specific.”

They all seemed to ignore her last comment, or at least, not take it in.

Ashton cleared his throat. “Forgive me if I doubt you, but I find this all a little unusual. You're saying that you and Robert Adams are the same person?”

“Yes.”

Charles stepped forwards, his face a little paler than a few moments before, “Ashton – I know enough of Miss Thomas to know she always speaks the truth.” Then he added, “However strange it may seem.”

Louise met his gaze and said in genuine gratitude, “Thank you.”

“Well then, it must be true. But why were you returning Charles's letters?” Ashton asked.

She opened her mouth to speak when Mr Lucas interrupted. “It was a misunderstanding between us, for which I'm most earnestly sorry now. I have been for the last three months, even before your news a moment ago.”

She searched his face for truthfulness. She saw what she hoped to see. “Thank you.”

“Well Mr Adams, can we adjourn somewhere and speak of business matters?” Ashton asked with a smile.

“Of course, please come with me to the study.”

She led them all to a large oak-panelled room and sat behind a vast oak desk that was covered with piles of paper and folders. The blotting paper was covered with ink spots, and at the side was a pile of pens and pencils. Discussions began, and before long it became clear that Lucas and Boyd were not needed. She suggested they walk about the grounds so that she could negotiate alone with Ashton.

“We're only half a mile from the coast,” she said, “and there is a pleasant walk that way. On a clear day like today, you can see Portland.”

They agreed and departed once one of the servants arrived to show them the way, and the negotiations resumed. She was a little relieved to have Mr Lucas away for a time. His presence was oppressive and she found it difficult to concentrate on business matters, yet strangely as soon as he was gone she wished him returned. What must he think of her now?

Ashton spoke to Miss Thomas in an honest and forthright manner about the bridge and why further investment was needed. She listened intently as he explained the percentage of the toll price she could expect to get for her investment. She was eager to invest, having offered before as Robert Adams, but was too late the first time around. However, as an accomplished businesswoman, she knew not to let her eagerness show. She wanted a higher percentage of the toll charges but would settle for less if she had to. In the end, the agreed details would be advantageous to both.

When the negotiations seemed to have been resolved, she looked out of the window. The sky was dark and a few droplets of rain fell.

“I do hope Mr Lucas and Mr Boyd are not caught out in that rain. Now I feel sorry I sent them outside. I should have directed them to the billiard room instead.”

“A bit of rain never hurt anyone!” Ashton got up and stood beside her. “Besides, Mr Lucas is a terrible billiards player and would probably have ripped the cloth on the table.”

She couldn't help but smile. So, there was something Mr Lucas was bad at. “I shall call for tea, so that on their return they can at least be refreshed.”

The ramblers returned fifteen minutes later, only slightly wet, and were greeted with the happy news that Robert Adams was to invest in the bridge.

“If I were a gentleman, I would offer to shake your hand on it,” she said.

“I will shake your hand as a lady, that is enough,” and Ashton held out his hand.

She moved her hand as if she was about to offer it back, but suddenly, she looked at Mr Lucas and remembered his words “you're more male than female’. She pulled her hand back. Then she turned around and walked to the window and seemingly looked out, with a deep sigh.

“Miss Thomas?” Ashton asked.

She heard him, but didn't move.

“Miss Thomas is anything wrong?” he persisted. “Have I said something to offend you?” He spoke in a concerned tone.

She forced her mind to stop dwelling on such painful memories, turned around in a hurried manner and said in a serious tone. “I give you my word, and it will have to be good enough”.

The confused mood of the room was lightened by the arrival of tea a few minutes later. Mr Ashton was unsure what he had said to offend, Mr Boyd was blissfully unaware of any awkwardness and Mr Lucas felt it keenly that Miss Thomas was avoiding speaking to him. She had barely spoken to him, other than what was necessary, and avoided his gaze.

He knew he deserved no special treatment, yet he felt a little shameful being in her house, drinking her tea and taking her money for investment after everything he had said to her that day. He must try and speak to her to make amends properly.

The walk with Boyd had been pleasant – more than pleasant. They went to the coast as directed and the sea air refreshed him after their long journey. It was a beautiful part of the country. Stunning. Unique. Besides that, he was barely able to comprehend everything he had learned: that she took his verbal abuse as she declared her love, all the time she knew she was the one who played a major part in his work as an investor called Robert Adams.

She was Robert Adams. It had taken him aback the moment she said the words. But though he was surprised, he didn't doubt her. No, not now. He would never doubt her again.

So that was what Mr Russell, her lawyer, had alluded to those months ago when he had visited. She had given him leave to know the situation behind her dealings with William Risinger, but not this other secret. He looked over to her. She was an exceptional woman. He always thought she was, it was only Risinger's lies that had made him think the worst of her – and he was foolish enough to believe him. He scolded himself again. He must make amends.

Over these thoughts, he heard Miss Thomas ask them all to dinner that evening, and Ashton accept on their behalf.

“The food at the inn in Axminster is excellent I believe,” she said. “But I would be honoured if you would return later, to save me dining alone tonight if nothing else.”

“But it's such late notice. Will not your cook be angry?” Ashton asked.

“My domestic staff are among the best in the county and are prepared for late requests; but you forget, I knew you were coming today.”

Charles knew he deserved no special attention from her, but perhaps she might forgive him after all. She certainly seemed gracious enough to be kind to him after his behaviour to her.

Mr Boyd asked, “Miss Thomas, I'm intrigued as to why you use a different name for your investments. Is there a reason for it?”

She placed her teacup down. “I will attempt to explain. It's not the greatest secret ever kept; in fact, several other of the companies and partners I invest in already know I'm Mr Adams. But there are some people – one person – who wishes me ill and he almost did me a great deal of harm. It's for that reason primarily that I took the name.”

She continued after a pause. “That is why you must not speak of this to anyone. It could harm your work if this man finds out.” She looked directly at Mr Lucas. He knew whom she was speaking of: William Risinger. She hid her investments because of him. How much harm had he done her that she had resorted to hiding her identity?

Her tone became lighter. “But despite this, I found after a while that it's refreshing being known as a man, especially when I receive business correspondence. I'm afraid that before Robert Adams I found businessmen condescending when they wrote to me. They thought me stupid I'm sure, and in need of a large amount of explanation for anything remotely technical. I trust your reports will not change in tone now you know? I would be very disappointed if they did.”

Ashton shook his head. “Of course not. But it gives new meaning to the questions you received at your dinner last year when you were asked whether Mr Adams was to attend.”

“Yes, although Mr Stephenson is fully aware that I am Robert Adams. It amuses him to mention him whenever he can.”

“What made you choose the name 'Robert Adams'?” Charles asked.

She turned to him at last. “Robert was my father's name. Adams was my mother's maiden name. There are portraits of them over there.” She pointed to the corner of the room and they all looked over. Amongst a number of landscape paintings was a portrait of a man and woman. The woman was seated and the man stood beside her. Charles hadn't noticed them before among the finery of the room. Her parents’ portrait was a fine piece of art. She looked like her mother – except more beautiful.

“A sensible choice,” Ashton commented as Boyd walked over to the pictures. “I see no portrait of you?”

She went over to Boyd and stood gazing up at the picture. “No, not yet as an adult. There is one of me when I was nine years old, but that is in another room. I'm rather interested in the techniques of capturing images on paper using light sensitive paper. Maybe I shall have one of those done instead. But then, portraits are often done with a little artistic licence. Especially if the subject is not quite so beautiful as they should be.”