Money paved a smooth path in every journey, and this was no different. Actually, the stakes and rewards were higher, so Buchanan must have spent large amounts to steer decisions to his benefit. Clare huffed out a breath and shook her head. Pushing her chair back to stand, she looked at each of the men there.
“James, I want you working on this project along with the other. Please,” she said. “Duncan, give him what he needs to bring him up to date.”
They had a meeting in a few hours, but she was now better prepared than before, in spite of the surprising revelations. And that would work to her advantage.
“Does this change your decision, my lady?”
“How so, Duncan?”
“Will you accept his offer knowing what he is willing to do to attain this?” He held up the deed and documents.
“My decision has not and will not change.”
Clare walked to the door, needing a few moments alone to gather her thoughts and her resolve. The knowledge of his zeal to purchase her property and the methods he might use to encourage her to sell to him revealed a whole aspect of Sir Iain Buchanan. One that, she was surprised to admit, did not immediately turn her opinion of him.
“My carriage will leave my residence at half-past one with my cousin, who will accompany us. I will see you then,” she said.
Clare opened the door to dismiss them. Once alone, she sat on one of the chairs she had in a somewhat cozy arrangement off in the corner and allowed herself to take a breath.
The upcoming appointment would be so much more than a simple business meeting—clearly buying what was hers was of some importance to him. Then, Clare remembered a small detail that Chalmers had mentioned in passing during his review of what he knew of Sir Iain Buchanan and his empire.
The man does not fail in his efforts. He is relentless in his pursuits.
Her body shivered then, remembering his strength as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her up all those stairs—into Caro’s house and up to the guest room. Though Chalmers had been referring to his methods of carrying on his businesses, her body flooded with waves of searing heat in reaction to the words.
Their encounters so far had shown his relentlessness in different ways. Between trying to intimidate her with his height and muscular build and aggressive entrance the first time or the sparkle in his intense gaze when he stared at her across the dinner table, that trait was obvious. The dangerous thing was that it called to something deep within her. Whether to accept his challenge or to capitulate, she knew not. But, instead of dreading the coming meeting and the difficulties of such, she was excited by it. Excited to pit her skills and knowledge—and preparation—against his.
Oh, the plans she had for the property were too important to her, too connected to Jonathan and their dreams of helping the less fortunate, especially children, to relinquish them. It involved not only memories but also the future and the legacy of his name.
So, no matter the amount of money offered nor the obstacles placed in her path, she would see the new school and orphanage built and flourish.
No matter what. No matter who.
Chapter Seven
Iain watched outthe window of his office for a sign of the approaching coach. And even as he did, he chided himself for showing such an obvious amount of anticipation of her arrival. Her note to inform him of her arrival time had been short, almost curt, but he laughed when he read it. Chairs scraping on the floor behind him made him turn.
Douglas, the young man who did menial tasks around the offices for Ben, dragged a heavy wooden chair across the space. He left it in front of Iain’s desk but only for a moment. As soon as Douglas positioned it, Ned disagreed with its placement and ordered it elsewhere. As amusing as the trio was to watch, it was his own escalating tension about the coming meeting that was spreading to the others. His temper would have snapped after the third move, but Douglas had as much patience as he did brawn and continued, following each of Ben’s directions without a word or a pause. It did at least until the rattle of carriage wheels on the cobblestones outside drew his attention back.
Lady Clare was here.
“Put three in a row, one slightly closer to my desk than the others, Douglas,” he said over his shoulder. “Ned, see to her.” He did not look to see if his orders were obeyed, for they would be. Iain dropped the curtain and watched through the openings in the pattern of the lace. Once she alighted and Ned presented himself, Iain turned to take his position as he waited for her to arrive.
As the sound of the group echoed up the staircase, he tugged his shirt cuffs down within the sleeves of his coat and adjusted his neckcloth. Paul had outdone himself today in dressing Iain, so much so that Ned and Ben had taken great pleasure in making jokes about his attention to his appearance this morn. They would pay for their mocking.
But not now.
Lady Clare led her entourage into his office and the woman with them surprised him. If he was not mistaken, she was Mrs. Hunter, a cousin of a sort who lived with the lady. Lady Clare had not mentioned bringing along a companion.
“My lady, thank you for meeting me,” he said as he bowed then took her hand. “You have met my secretary, Edward Pemberton—” He nodded to Ned. “May I present my solicitor, Mr. Robert Cairns?” Iain waited for Lady Clare’s acknowledgement of Cairns before moving on to the others on his staff. “Mr. Ebeneezer Gilchrist, my man of business.”
He watched as she greeted them with all the politeness expected of a lady and waited on her introductions. She wore a pelisse in a shade of dark green, bottle green he thought they called it, over a gown of lighter green and both colors enhanced the color of her eyes. The pelisse, accentuated with military-style epaulets on the shoulders and gold braid ties, was cut to accentuate the fullness of her breasts. The way it draped down to the unadorned lower edge allowed it to move over her legs as she walked closer. Her ensemble was finished with a smart bonnet topped in several feathers that swayed with her every movement. Her strides as she crossed his office were smooth, with no sign of her injury in each step.
“Sir Iain, you have met Mr. Duncan Shaw, and this is Mr. David Balfour, my private secretary.” Iain nodded at both men. “Previously you met Mr. Andrew Lamb, my solicitor, but he was unable to attend today. Allow me to introduce my other solicitor, Mr. James Chalmers.”
A sound emanated from Cairns who stood at Iain’s back that would usually raise his defenses. Though no overt threat existed, Cairns’ growl could mean nothing good.
“Chalmers,” he grumbled.
