would be thanks to his coin and effort, not hers. Something in her rankled. She’d struggled so hard to save the business, herself and her mother and in the end she could only do it by falling under this man’s protection. She tried to recall her mother’s encouraging words, or even Mrs Palmer’s simple observation about Philip, but none of them came back to her with enough force to push away the strange regret of not having achieved her own salvation, or the nasty idea she was selling herself.
Philip broke from her gaze to open the safe and slide the papers inside.
‘Are you sure you can trust your sister’s behaviour to a woman who sneaks into men’s houses and threatens them in the night?’ It was a flippant question with an edge of seriousness. He was certainly trusting her now by revealing the safe and the key on the small ring in his pocket which opened it. There was nothing to stop her from stealing the key, emptying the safe and sneaking away with her mother while he slept. She would never do such a deceitful thing, but he couldn’t know this.
‘You aren’t a thief.’ He swung the safe door closed and locked it.
Apparently, he did know she wasn’t capable of robbing him.
She tugged at the dress, wishing she possessed the same unshakeable confidence in herself and her decision to marry as he did in her and his own decisions.
He returned the mounted dagger to the hooks. The silver cufflinks holding the crisp ends of his sleeves together over his strong wrists flashed with the morning sunlight. Only the yellowing bruises along his knuckles kept his appearance from being perfect.
He’d received those bruises for defending her. It was ungrateful of her to stand here lamenting his help because it hadn’t come from her own effort, yet she still hated the idea of needing his charity.
His papers secure, this pleasant morning repartee came to an end. ‘I asked you to join me because a gentleman is here in need of a loan. It’s the perfect opportunity to begin your training.’
‘So soon?’ The eggs threatened to revolt in her stomach. Perhaps she shouldn’t have enjoyed a second serving.
‘The prospective client is a cloth importer and your expertise might be beneficial to the transaction. Before I decide whether or not to invest in his business, I need to know if his proposal has merit.’
‘My uncle’s plan had merit,’ she challenged.
‘Because it was yours,’ he answered flatly.
‘But you didn’t know that then.’
‘I do now.’
‘Yet you still lent to my uncle. Why?’ she persisted, her unease making her quarrelsome.
‘As I said before, he possessed the collateral to secure the loan. If he’d rebuilt the business, he wouldn’t have been the first unlikely client to exceed my expectations.’
She had the distinct impression the remark was directed at her, but it didn’t ease the way his past dealing with her uncle Robert continued to chafe. ‘Did you know about me and my mother?’
‘He failed to reveal your presence when he initially approached me, but in my research—’
‘Your research?’ Curse it, he was so methodical.
‘I research all my clients before extending a loan. I discovered your and Mrs Townsend’s presence.’
‘And you were still willing to let him ruin us?’
‘No.’ His expression remained impassive, but the force and sincerity behind the single word was strong enough to wilt her anger.
It didn’t stop her from gaping at him in disbelief, not knowing what to think. ‘But—’
‘I’ll explain all to you in good time. Now, we must see to Mr Williams.’ He motioned to the door instead of offering her his arm. ‘Shall we?’
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