As he reached his own townhouse, located on the other and more prestigious square and easily twice the size of Lord Nairn’s, with its luxury, comfort and efficient, and its own well-trained staff, Iain’s control was back in place. As was his certainty in his plan to get the property he wanted. The brief note of thanks from her that arrived in his office just after he did gave him the opportunity to move ahead.
Surely, that was a sign of coming success?
He’d no sooner settled himself behind his desk in the large chamber he used as a private office before he was set upon by Ned and Ben.
“You have meetings that begin—” Edward Pemberton, his secretary, paused to withdraw and glance at his pocket watch. “In thirty minutes.”
“I have the new contract for the holdings in Glasgow for your signature,” Ebeneezer Gilchrist, his man of business and all-around manager of details of all sorts, said. “And, by Christ, you look like you have been ridden hard and put away wet, Iain.” Silence controlled the room for two long moments before Ned joined in.
“Those toffs play hard, do they not?” Ned asked. Well, not asked, because he tapped Ben’s arm with his elbow declaring his sarcasm. Both men knew of his plans for the previous night.
“I have seen you just after you spend hours at the—” Ben stopped. The two worlds in which Iain lived could not overlap. Not aloud. Not publicly. Not even in a jest. Ben cleared his throat and moved on to business. As expected, none present acknowledged the change in subject. “If you sign those now, I can have them delivered to Black in Glasgow by tomorrow.”
Iain took the pile of papers from him and laid them on the desk. Meetings in half an hour. Contracts to sign. Other commitments on the day. Yet, the small, folded square of parchment on top—one not mentioned by his secretary or man of business—caught his attention more firmly than any other demand.
They noticed, for the two men let out matching sighs before shaking their heads at him. Ned and Ben were perhaps the only two, with the probable addition of King, who could speak and act so boldly with him. At least privately. Though this morn, he would brook no challenges even here. Without meeting their gazes, he turned the letter over and broke the seal. Unfolding the sheet, he discovered its sender, as he’d suspected, was Lady Clare Logan.
Entranced by the neat style of her handwriting, it was a personal note of thanks for his help the night before. To him, holding her in his arms had felt like only minutes ago and yet hours had passed. Rather than sit under the staring eyes of his employees, Iain stood and walked to the window and enjoyed the surprising sunshine as he read the rest.
I am in your debt...
Practically, he knew those words were just a throw-away ending, the polite thing to say in a note expressing gratitude for a kindness or other help, but it gave him an opportunity to use it to speak directly to her about the property he wanted, he faced the others.
“I’m writing a reply to Lady Clare, and I want it delivered directly to her at the Marquess of Nairn’s residence. Immediately.” Lady Clare was not the lay-abed kind of person and would leave her sister’s as soon as was possible to return to her home or the school.
Lay-abed? A vision of her naked but for the silken sheets tangled about her struck and his cock hardened in an instant. Her hair down, spread on the pillow. Her mouth reddened from his attentions to it and her attentions to his...
“Sir?” Iain shook off the shockingly graphic image and looked at his secretary.
“I will reply immediately and want it delivered personally to the lady. Is there a problem with that, Pemberton?” At the man’s acquiescence, he continued. “Clear any scheduled meetings or other business from my diary at midday on next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I will give the lady a choice.”
“What happened last night to change her mind, Iain?” Ben asked. “We have worked for months and have nothing to show but absolute refusals, even to meet about it.”
“As has happened before, I was in the correct place at a fortunate time.” His own handwriting was rougher than hers but legible, of that he made certain. He signed it and handed it to Ned to finish sanding and folding and sealing. Iain’s raised eyebrow provoked a response.
“Immediately, sir,” Ned said, heading out of the office to make it so.
Only when the front door closed could Iain turn his attention to the business remaining on his desk. His secretary returned as he shuffled through the contracts he needed to sign.
“The changes I asked for?” Iain waited for the report. The original contract offered was not as advantageous to him as he’d demanded.
“Aye, sir,” Ben said. “After the unfortunate incident, the owner has decided the quicker things are settled the better.” Iain found the end, having glanced over each sentence quickly, and signed it.
“Just so,” he said as he handed it back. “Sometimes, those unfortunate incidents have a way of clarifying issues.” Ben met his knowing gaze for a moment before taking the papers.
They sorted out what was left to be done this day and word came that his scheduled appointment had arrived. Once his business was accomplished, Iain could turn his attention to preparing for his meeting with Lady Clare. His men had gathered most of what he needed, but there was more he wanted to know. Witnessing her family’s interactions and speaking with the marquess had yielded so much.
Now, he must learn more about this woman.
In his past dealings with women, highborn or low, it always came down to the price. Throwing more money at them usually worked. But he’d done that, twice over, and had not gotten what he’d wanted. So, he must discover the true reason she held fast to those properties and the price needed for her to relinquish them to him.
“Will you meet with her three times?” Ned asked. He opened the appointment diary to the correct place and began to make notes.
“Nay, once.”
“But you want three times on different dates held open for her?” Iain leaned back in his chair and stared across the chamber to the window. “Does that not give her the control over this?”
“The perception of control, aye. But she played into my plans with her note,” he said, with a nod to the note laying there on his desk. “Let her believe it is her decision.” Iain stood and tugged down the cuffs of his shirt within the sleeves of his coat. “At least this way, we will begin the discussions amicably.”
