“She is a female, but is she defenseless?” Garrity steepled his hands, his black brows winging. “She’s the one obstruction to our railway, and she’s managed to wrap our negotiator around her little finger. I’d say Lady Beatrice Wodehouse is the one holding all the cards.”
Wick gripped the back of a chair, trying to rein in his temper. “You don’t know what she’s suffered. The danger that faces her now. She has no one—”
“But you, is that it? What exactly is the nature of your relationship with her?”
“That’s none of your bloody business.”
“It is if I’m to commit resources to her aid…and, I might add, to our company’s detriment.”
“Fine, then don’t help her. I’ll do it myself.”
“I’m sure that’s not what Garrity means.” Kent had one shoulder propped up against the glass, his bespectacled gaze watchful. “He’s just on edge from our meeting earlier this week.”
“What meeting was this?” Wick asked.
“The one in which several key shareholders questioned our ability to deliver on the railway,” Garrity said succinctly. “The one in which Kent and I gave them our personal reassurances that you had the matter well in hand.”
Devil take it.Guilt joined the fray of Wick’s roiling emotions. Engrossed by the problems Beatrice faced, he hadn’t been paying enough attention to his work. To the company and stockholders that were depending upon him.
Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m working on it.”
“I am, of course, relieved to hear your perspective. Because from the outside, it appears as if you’ve spent the time in Staffordshire courting the lady instead of convincing her to sell her land.”
“Damnation, the situation is complicated.”
“And will only become more so if anyone gets wind that you’re romantically involved with the woman who’s put our project—nay, our company—in jeopardy,” Garrity snapped. “Ask yourself this, Murray: is a female worth it?”
Wick was about to retort a reply when there was a tapping on the door. A few seconds later, it opened slightly, and guileless blue eyes peered in through the crack. The eyes were set in a pretty rounded face framed by fiery curls.
“Am I interrupting a meeting?” Gabriella Garrity whispered the question to Wick, who was nearest the door. “I was looking for Mr. Garrity and thought I heard his voice.”
She looked so sweetly worried that, in spite of his frustration, Wick felt his lips quiver.
“You’ve found him, madam,” he said.
Garrity was already at the door, pulling it open for his wife. “There’s no need to skulk about, my dear. Come in.”
“Are you certain? Because if you’re engaged in something important…”
“Nothing is more important than you, Gabriella,” Garrity said.
Anyone who knew Garrity knew that he was being sincere; he was as single-minded in his devotion to his wife as he was in closing a business deal. Which was why he, of all people, ought to understand the complexity of Wick’s situation with Beatrice. Garrity knew, first-hand, that some women were worth making sacrifices for.
Some women were worth everything.
Ignoring Wick’s pointed look, Garrity ushered his lady into the room. Straightening her bonnet, which had gone askew on her red curls, he murmured, “What brings you here, love?”
Before answering him, Mrs. Garrity first waved at Harry, who gave her a friendly grin in return. Then she turned back to her husband. “Originally, I was going to see if you’d care to go to lunch. But now I have the most exciting news. You will never guess who I just ran into outside.”
“Actually, I think I can guess.” Garrity’s tone was drier than sand.
“It was Violet and Carlisle! And they had the loveliest lady with them, a Lady Beatrice Wodehouse. They said she was a friend of yours, Mr. Murray?”
Faced with her ingenuous blue gaze, Wick could only say, “Indeed, ma’am.”
“She seemed ever so nice.” Mrs. Garrity exuded concern. “And I was dreadfully sorry when Violet mentioned that she is in London because of some trouble.”
And the point goes to Violet.Wick made a mental note to thank his sister-in-law for her clever gambit.
