clothes when he is trying out a new method of tempering steel. Something that requires immense concentration and is of untold value to the company. We are very close to discovering the lost formula that my great-grandfather used.’
‘That doesn’t matter. He is making the entire place look untidy.’ Algernon put his boots on top of the walnut desk. ‘You should get rid of him immediately. You make it sound as if running a company is difficult. It’s not. You don’t have to do much—just issue orders. Uncle was far too soft.’
‘Your uncle was quite happy for me to run the company as I saw fit.’
‘Uncle never properly applied his mind to the problem. If a woman can make this company prosper, just think of what a man could do on a few hours a week. It is not you, Eleanor, that made this company. You simply take the credit unnecessarily. You have ridden your luck. That’s all.’
‘Thankfully, for the future of Moles, I remain in charge.’ Eleanor crossed her arms. If she needed any further proof that Algernon was completely and utterly unsuitable for running the company, this was it. Who cared about a few patches on his clothes when Mr Swaddle was a genius with steel? At least her stepfather had understood why Moles made money and who made it happen. ‘And, given Mr Swaddle’s expertise, he can wear whatever he likes. Moles is the better for having him as a foreman.’
Algernon blew on his nails. ‘So you say.’
Eleanor rested her chin on her hand. There was something more than pleased about Algernon Forecastle today. He couldn’t know about her failure with Sir Vivian, so what was it? ‘What are you doing here, Algernon?’
‘I demand to see the latest ledgers. It is my right.’
‘Your right?’ Eleanor stared at him in astonishment. ‘You have no rights here. This company does not belong to you. You ought to go and compose a sermon. Won’t your parishioners want to hear one this Sunday?’
He gave her a pitying glance. ‘I bought a complete book of sermons, and I am only halfway through the third reading.’
‘How resourceful.’
‘Yes, it was.’ Algernon began to preen like the prematurely balding otter that he was. ‘I learnt about the book from a classmate at Oxford. It means I can spend my time doing other more important things.’
‘Visiting the poor and the sick?’
‘You must be joking, Eleanor.’ Algernon paled. ‘The great and the good. The poor can fend for themselves. And I’ve no wish to come down with some horrible disease.’
Eleanor forced a smile. She should have remembered that Algernon had a hide tougher than most forms of steel and seemed impervious to sarcasm. ‘That may be so, but you still don’t possess the right to bother my employees, to demand the ledgers or to put your muddy boots on my great-grandfather’s desk. Remove your boots from there immediately.’
He made a show of wiping the dirt off with his linen handkerchief. ‘Satisfied? I plan to replace this with something more modern when I take over.’
‘I doubt that will ever happen.’
‘Miss Varney says it is about time I stood up for myself and became actively involved.’
‘And who, pray tell, is Miss Varney?’ Eleanor asked.
‘Miss Lucinda Varney is my intended.’ His sneering gaze travelled up and down her. ‘You didn’t think I would marry you? Despite what my uncle counselled.’
‘I take it that my stepfather remained in blissful ignorance about your matrimonial plans?’
‘Uncle would not have understood. I need a truly refined wife—one who will be in keeping with my new station in life.’
His words about refinement stung far more than they should. Eleanor gritted her teeth. She knew why she’d turned her back on parties and balls. The reasons were all around her and in the very air she breathed. She was proud of her accomplishment, even if it was far from what was expected of a lady. And even if the company was not the bustling family that she’d dreamt of when she was a young girl.
‘I hope you and Miss Varney are very happy,’ Eleanor said when she trusted her voice. ‘But you must relinquish all notions of inheriting the business or any of its investments.’
‘My uncle put that codicil in to tease you. What sort of man would marry you?’ Algernon’s smile grew oilier. ‘My uncle even left me instructions on how to challenge your marriage if necessary. He did specify banns, Eleanor. Do you have the time?’
‘I never doubted that for an instant.’ Eleanor kept her back ramrod-straight. ‘But the fact remains that until you do inherit, the company belongs to me and I shall run it as I see fit.’
‘You have twenty-six days left. Banns take at least twenty-one days. Ordinary licences take the same.’
‘There are always special licences.’
‘Do you know how difficult it is to get a special licence? They are called special because you must give an excellent reason.’ Algernon stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat. ‘I wonder what reason you will give, Eleanor? To the Archbishop of Canterbury, no less. Did you know that I know his son? What connections do you have? Or indeed do you have a man who would wish to marry you?’
Eleanor fought against the rising tide of panic. She refused to give in. ‘I have twenty-six days, Algernon. At the end of that time, if you inherit, you may do what you like with the ledgers and my grandfather’s desk. You may even sack valuable members of staff and cut this company’s throat. But until that time keep your boots off the desk and your fingers off the ledgers. And your opinions of my employees to yourself!’
‘You will regret this.’
‘I think not.’
‘Mrs Blackwell.’ One of the junior clerks rushed in with a panicked expression on his face. ‘There is a gentleman here to see you. He wants to see you now.’
‘I don’t have any appointments—’ Eleanor began.
‘We have unfinished business, Mrs Blackwell,’ Lord Whittonstall said, coming to stand beside the clerk. ‘And it will be completed today.’
Chapter Three
Eleanor pressed her hands to her eyes and counted to ten, hoping that Lord Whittonstall was some apparition or fevered fantasy.
When she opened her eyes he remained standing in the doorway to the office. He looked positively immaculate in a frock coat and sand-coloured breeches, with a top hat perched on his head. Every inch the London gentleman.
Eleanor was very aware that she hadn’t taken any time to change and remained in the same hideous black gown that she’d worn earlier. Worse, her hair, instead of staying firmly in its bun, had come loose and several tendrils now fell about her shoulders. She must look like some demented creature rather than a respectable businesswoman.
Of the bad outcomes that could possibly happen, this beat everything hands-down. Lord Whittonstall stood before her, glowering. He obviously hadn’t accepted her garbled
