“After the meeting, I headed straight back. I missed my lass.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “How did the meeting go?”
“Part of it went as I expected. I asked McGillivray and the Coalition if they were responsible for the barn fire, and they denied it. I believe them,” he said frankly. “They’re aggressive, cutthroat businessmen: they favor direct attacks and want their adversaries to know they’re responsible. Setting fire to a barn without claiming responsibility is not their modus operandi.” He paused. “In fact, McGillivray had an interesting piece of information to share.”
Beatrice tilted her head.
“A few days before the fire, he had a visit from a man claiming to be your former tenant. The man said his name was Randall Perkins. McGillivray described the fellow as brutish looking, with a prominent brow and red birthmark on the left side of his face.”
“That description matches Perkins.” Her eyes widened. “What did the bounder want?”
“According to McGillivray, Perkins offered to help ‘persuade’ you to sell your land in exchange for payment.”
“Thecad. When I think of how I took him in…grr.” Her indignant little growl was so adorable that Wick’s lips twitched. “How did McGillivray respond to Perkins’s odious offer?”
“He told Perkins he wouldn’t give him a cent and booted the wastrel out of his office.”
“Does he know where Perkins went?”
“When McGillivray turned down the ‘partnership,’ Perkins tried to beg a few quid off him. Claimed he needed money to get back to London where he could stay with family.”
“When Perkins first came to the estate looking for work, he said he’d come from London. He claimed that his parents lived in some cramped tenement in the Seven Dials, and he needed to get away,” she mused. “If he was the arsonist, I wonder if he went into hiding there. No one seems to have seen him since the fire.”
“It’s a possible lead to pursue,” Wick agreed.
“What else happened at the meeting?” Beatrice studied him. “You mentioned that only a part went as you expected. What happened during the other part?”
That was his clever lass, never missing a beat.
“When I told them in no uncertain terms that GLNR would not tolerate them harassing you about the railway, they issued a threat of their own.” He turned her back around so that he could continue brushing her hair. The soothing strokes helped to keep his anger at bay. “They said they would sell their shares of GLNR stock and tell the public they lost confidence in our company.”
“How would that impact your business?” she asked in a troubled voice.
“The factory owners are significant investors, but we have others and could manage the fiscal side of things without them. The larger problem is their threat to go public,” he said starkly. “If the Coalition begins to cast doubt on our project, then the other investors might start to panic and start selling. Then, like dominoes, the entire venture might fall.”
“Wick, if you can’t find a way to build the railway while preserving the farms…” She turned in her chair again, her throat working above the frilly collar of her nightgown. “It will be my fault if your company fails.”
“No, angel. It would be my fault for not finding a solution, but that won’t happen.”
A furrow formed between her brows. “How can you be sure?”
“Because this is the most important deal of my life.” He set down the brush, placed his hands on her slim shoulders. “I’ve received a reply from Mr. Norton. He’s dealing with a problem with a viaduct in Sussex but promises to be here in a week or so. He will come up with a viable alternative. Trust me, sweetheart.”
He refused to give into doubt. He would find a way to make things work. He wouldn’t fail her, his future bride, and he needed to know that she believed in him.
“Wick…there’s something I have to ask you.”
At her uncharacteristic hesitancy, his nape prickled. “What is it, love?”
“It’s about your mistress. The one…who died.”
His insides turned to ice. Of all the things he’d been expecting, it had not been this. How had she found out about Monique? The answer slammed into him like an opponent’s right hook—which this was, in a manner of speaking.
Bloody Severin Knight. I’m going to beat him to a pulp.
“Knighton told you about her, I presume?” he bit out. “What did he say?”
“That she was an acrobat, and she was in love with you. When you ended things, she said she wanted to…hurt herself. And then you were together at some house party, and she died. He said you didn’t kill her, but you were involved?”
