Well, that certainly didn’t happen. As far as Robert could tell, her desire to do just that was as strong as ever.
“But when she returned, she was determined to have a real hand in running the company rather than simply offering advice whenever we’d discuss business over dinner.” He gave another bewildered shake of his head, and Robert sympathized with the man. “Her sister, Evelyn, has always been a handful, too, and I worry about her just as much. But Mariah—always so willful! Determined to let nothing stop her from getting what she wants.”
Robert shrugged a shoulder. “She is her father’s daughter.”
Winslow laughed. “If she is, then she’ll eventually listen to reason. She’ll understand that fine ladies do not run shipping companies, nor do they spend their days with urchins.” He arched a brow. “Oh, she’ll be angry at first. But in time she’ll come to realize the benefit of those new docks to the company, especially when she sees how much money she’ll have to donate. She’ll be able to support dozens of charities then, if she wishes. Besides,” he said, his lips curling into a pleased smile, “no gentleman wants a wife who spends her days among street urchins. Closing down that school will only make it that much easier for you to find her a husband.”
And with that, to earn the partnership.
The words hung in the air as plainly as if Winslow had spoken them aloud, the implication clear. For all that he was eager to bring Robert into the fold, the position was still tentative. Still wholly dependent upon a marriage offer for Mariah.
“The duchess has agreed to sponsor her,” Robert reported, erasing any doubts regarding the outcome of the season. “And I’ll get started right away on the properties.” And with that, erasing any doubts that he deserved to be Winslow’s partner.
“Good.”
“But understand that any influence I exert on my friends and family in Parliament will be completely aboveboard.” He wouldn’t compromise on that. Doing so would completely negate any strides he’d made toward proving himself worthy of his father’s pride.
“We’ll keep it between the two of us, then, until it becomes necessary to involve others.” Winslow stared down into his bourbon, watching as he swirled it in his glass. “Mariah also doesn’t need to know about the school. Not yet. For now, let her think the project is only about purchasing a few warehouses and stores.”
“Understood.” Not a difficult condition to agree to, given that the entire project was still nothing but rumor and speculation, with the possibility of disintegrating long before any of it came to fruition. No need to unduly upset her before they had to. If at all.
Winslow set down his glass and rose from his chair, ending their meeting as he lifted his overcoat and hat from the coat stand. “I’m going home. Ledford will be back at sundown to lock up.”
Robert followed him into the outer office. Through the wide window, he saw the snow coming down at a faster pace, but not enough to stick to the bricks and stones of London.
“Offering you the partnership was the best move I’ve made in a long time,” Winslow admitted as he signaled to his driver through the window that he was ready to leave. He opened the door, then paused to glance back at Robert. “Do not disappoint me.”
Robert froze as a flash of emotion jarred through him. Disappoint…The hell he would. His days of disappointing anyone were long over.
When Winslow’s carriage pulled away, he closed the outer door and crossed to the shelves covering the end wall, where the company’s maps and charts were kept. He quickly found what he sought—a detailed map of the Tower hamlets. Then he grabbed up the list of streets and sat down to work in the small side room where he’d set up his own office. Not that he needed to work here. The study at Park Place would have done just as well. But he wanted to establish himself here so that there would be no mistaking his intent to play a hands-on role in the company.
He made his way down the list, marking off each street on the map with a pencil. But his thoughts kept straying…to the school, to Mariah, to the thousands of families who would be displaced by the new docks, to Mariah…always to Mariah.
After an hour of being unable to concentrate, Robert shoved himself away from the desk and stood, to rub at his nape and pace the frustratingly short length of the room. He couldn’t force her out of his head. He hadn’t had a moment’s peace since she sauntered in for tea yesterday afternoon, draped in pastels and ribbons as if she were nothing more than an ordinary debutante. But nothing about her was ordinary. He’d known better than to let her get beneath his skin, but every taunting remark she made, every flutter of those long lashes and curl of her berry-ripe lips stirred the irritation inside him.
He grimaced at the memory of kissing her. Apparently, she’d stirred something else as well.
It was madness to go running after her like that, to ravish her mouth until she melted against him and had him wanting to ravish her body just as thoroughly. But she possessed a fire inside her that drew him unlike any other woman. A confidence that radiated from her. A fierce resolve to fight for what she wanted. The woman was pure determination and challenge. And when she’d practically thrown herself into his arms, then dared him to kiss her—good God.
He raked shaking fingers through his hair. She’d left him furious and pacing all the rest of yesterday, with a frustration that even a night at Boodle’s couldn’t ease. When he’d finally gone home and crawled into bed, the damnable woman had the audacity to come to him in his dreams, giving him that same breathtaking kiss. And more.
Good God, indeed.
A clatter rose from the street. He glanced up. And froze. Speak of the devil…
He had a clear view of Mariah through the window as she perched high on a phaeton stopped in the street. A tall, lanky gentleman beside her gave orders to the groom, who ran forward to hold the team. Then he took her hand to help her gracefully to the ground.
Robert’s eyes narrowed. Who was this fop? A suitor of some sort. And a serious one judging from the familiar way the man rested his hand against the small of her back as he leaned down and said something that made her laugh.
Who was he? And why hadn’t she told him about this man before?
The door opened, and Mariah glided inside, her soft laughter surrounding her like a cloud. She released the dandy’s arm and tugged off her gloves, then unfastened the gold clip of her rabbit-fur-edged cape to slip it off. All the while she wore a beaming smile that lit her face, her cheeks pinked from the winter air.
“Papa?” she called out, sticking her head into her father’s office.
Robert sauntered forward to lean his shoulder against the doorway. “You just missed him,” he called out to her, casually crossing his arms.
She whirled around. Her smile vanished. “You,” she whispered, too surprised to find her voice.
“Me.” He grinned and glanced past her at the lanky fop in the tall beaver hat. A poor fashion choice that made him appear even taller and ganglier than he actually was.
Then the man smiled and awkwardly glanced from one to the other, sensing the tension between them. “Mariah?” he asked quietly.
With a hard sigh, she grudgingly introduced them. “Whitby, Lord Robert Carlisle. Carlisle”—heavens, how the woman could make his name sound like an insult!—“this is Hugh Whitby, Baron Whitby’s son.”
“Robert Carlisle!” Whitby exclaimed. “So good to see you again.”
They’d met before? Robert raked his gaze over the man. How could he have forgotten this dandy?