He raised his champagne glass. “Quite well.”
But inside, he despaired.
27
New York had three newspapers that came out each morning, and Liam sent a crewmember to collect all three. Natalia sat on the deck of theBlack Rose, skimming them with a sinking spirit.
The news was bad. It was based on speculation rather than actual facts, and almost all of it centered squarely on her. Unlike Poppy, Natalia avoided society events, and few people knew her, giving journalists free rein to fill in the blanks of her life with their own speculation. They dwelled on her youth and lack of experience at other banks that would have given her a broader perspective to understand overseas investments.
One of the newspapers had a photograph of her taken at Alexander’s christening last year.
“It’s a good picture,” Liam said.
It was flattering, but the photograph showed her in the worst possible light to be taken seriously as a businesswoman. The ultrafeminine gown was of expensive silk, and a cluster of violets had been artfully arranged in her hair. The amethyst drop earrings emphasized her wealth. She looked frilly, feminine, and pampered—not the sort of woman to be trusted with a major investment.
Today was going to be difficult. Normally she enjoyed workingwith her father, but he was an iron-hard man of business. His wrath was notorious. Tightly leashed fury was her father’s normal reaction when angered, but when supremely provoked, he withdrew behind a wall of ice. On such occasions, he skewered the target of his ire through his one good eye, fist tightened on the top of his cane as he spoke with whisper-soft rage. Both versions of his anger were terrible, and she had no idea which one she would confront this morning.
She hired a carriage to drive her through the early morning drizzle to the bank, where she asked Mr. Asher, her father’s long-time secretary, to make an appointment to see him.
“Your father is already expecting you,” Mr. Asher said. “He said to go inside as soon as you arrive.”
Mr. Asher’s face was full of sympathy, and she took a sobering breath before crossing to her father’s office door.
Oscar rose to his feet as she entered. To her surprise, he looked neither furious nor coldly angry ... only tired and sad. Defeated. He leaned heavily on the desk, his shoulders sagging.
“You have seen the newspapers?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His leaned even more heavily on the desk, looking up at her with pained eyes. “Natalia, you don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”
She hadn’t expected kindness. The wall of armor she’d been preparing all morning slipped, and anguish bloomed inside her.
“I am too,” she whispered.
Her father gestured to a chair. “Have a seat. We need to discuss how to handle this.”
Despite his kindness, it didn’t sway him from what needed to be done. She would be removed from the railroad account. Attempting to keep her on would undermine the bank’s reputation. It wasn’t fair, but society had never been fair toward women who tried to slip into a man’s world.
Her father warned that reporters had been congregating outside the bank for two days, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. “It would be best if you could stay out of sight for a while. Isthere somewhere you’d like to go? I still have the hunting lodge in Canada.”
She glanced away, rebelling against the idea, but Oscar clearly wanted her as far away from New York as possible. It would probably be wise, but she couldn’t do it. Her townhouse still needed to be repaired. At least now she would have the time to see it done properly.
“I’d rather stay here,” she said. “Who will you assign to lead the Trans-Siberian?”
“Howard Shipley has agreed to take it on.”
She flinched. It hurt to realize that she had already been replaced. There was nothing wrong with Howard Shipley. He had wide-ranging experience in the transportation industry and understood the requirements for financing large-scale engineering projects. She only wished...
Well, it didn’t matter what she wished. She smoothed all emotion from her expression and faced her father squarely. “I would be happy to meet with him to go over the files and be sure he understands the timetables for the various segments.”
Oscar looked uncomfortable. “We’ve already transferred those files from your office. Go ahead and see him today if you wish, but going forward, he won’t need any assistance.”
She shook her head. This was a massive project, and the timetables became erratic depending on the season. The scheduling demanded flexibility, and she needed to warn Howard about them—
“Natalia.” Her father’s voice interrupted the cascade of thoughts. His face was full of compassion, but she didn’t want to see it. It was essential that Howard Shipley understand the project he was about to inherit. She wasn’t in charge anymore, but she still loved that railroad.
She opened her mouth to make her case, but Oscar interrupted her.
