“Lady Jane, are you all right?”
“I always want to bring them all home,” she confessed.
He nodded. “I can understand that. More than one young chap or miss caught my eye as if hoping we were there to adopt.”
She looked down at her lap for a long time and gathered her emotions. “They will love the apples. Now, tell me, Owen, how are you faring?”
*
Adelia discovered herbrother and Victor Beaumont in a heated discussion in the library. However, since they’d left the door ajar and it was her home, she paused in the hallway. She had become too good at eavesdropping as a wallflower, and it was truly a nasty practice.
“You must not discuss the business of our company with strangers.” Mr. Beaumont’s voice was strident and agitated.
“Victor, I am merely seeking some good advice from those more experienced—” her brother responded, but the engineer interrupted him.
“You need only talk to me. I have a great deal more experience than you. I feel as if you are questioning my abilities at every turn.”
“Of course not. My father trusted you, and I appreciate your service to the company.”
“Very well,” Mr. Beaumont said, apparently mollified. “I may have jumped to the wrong conclusions.”
And then, Adelia heard chairs moving, and she backed away to hide in the dining room until she was certain Mr. Beaumont had departed.
When she wandered down the hall again, she entered the library to find her brother lost in thought.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, fine.” He looked up. “Did you enjoy the ballet?”
“I did, very much. It was—”
Thomas interrupted her, obviously his mind still on Smythe Coal. “If it weren’t for the ridiculous handkerchief, I would request a meeting with the elder Burnley.”
She wished she’d never mentioned the possibility. It was clear Thomas should stay as far from the Burnleys as possible until the murder had been satisfactorily solved.
“The viscount says his father is deeply grieving in any case. It wouldn’t have been possible for you to speak with him presently.” There must be someone else with whom he could consult. “I saw Mr. Beaumont leaving. Is there a problem?”
“I am uneasy about a few matters, and I think Victor continues to see me as a child. In essence, he pats my head and doesn’t give me all the information I’m seeking.”
Adelia sighed. Basically, Victor Beaumont was treating Thomas the way most men treated women. But she didn’t think it prudent to say as such.
“You don’t doubt his integrity, do you?” she asked.
Thomas shrugged. “He is an ambitious man. I believe he wants our company to succeed because he sees the success as his own. I don’t mind that, and we pay him handsomely for his abilities. Victor wants to expand. Maybe we should, but I intend to visit Mr. Arnold today and make sure things are going smoothly from his perspective. I don’t want any unexpected dips in revenue or massive expenses that could jeopardize us.”
Adelia wished she could be of more use, but she’d never had a head for numbers or business—only for making up stories.
“I have something for you,” Thomas said unexpectedly. “Wait a moment, I think you’ll like it.”
When he returned, he held out a fluted glass bottle. She read the label. It was French perfume.
“Whyever for?” she asked. But she could read her brother like a Jane Austen novel. “Let me guess, your lady friend did not care for it.”
Thomas’s cheeks turned scarlet. “If I had a lady friend, which I’m not saying I do, this would not suit her.”
Adelia unstopped it and sniffed. She couldn’t imagine any woman whom it wouldn’t suit. “It’s beautiful and unusual. Thank you.” It was also heavier than her normal floral scent, and she would keep it for special occasions. A ball was the perfect venue for showing off perfume. The warmth of the crowded room combined with her body’s heat from dancing would cause the fragrance to be released from her skin. She could only hope she was in Owen’s arms on the parquet at that time.
That thought was followed quickly by a stab of regret. As she wandered upstairs to put the bottle on her dressing table, the battle within her raged—between guilt and desire. She knew she ought to stay away from the viscount whilst withholding the information about her brother’s handkerchief. She had disposed of them all, but if Owen ever found out, he would undoubtedly resent her. Nevertheless, the desire to be with him was a siren song she couldn’t deny, no more than she could ignore the thrilling feelings he’d awakened in her.
