She stopped at the sight of her butler talking with a stranger at the front door. He was a long, lanky man in a well-fitting but dull outfit, with a bowler hat pressed to his chest.
“Mr. Asterly is not at home,” Greenhill said with a level of exasperation that suggested it was not for the first time.
The stranger didn’t budge. “Then I will wait for him,” the man said in a voice as dull as his outfit. “It is of great importance.”
Well, this is interesting.
“Greenhill, can I be of assistance?” she asked, walking toward them.
The butler turned to her. “He’s from London, my lady. He wants to see Mr. Asterly.”
She turned to the stranger, who kept his eyes on his shoes. “I’m Lady Amelia Asterly, his wife.”
The stranger gave a short, perfunctory bow. When he rose, he fixed his gaze just over her shoulder. “Mr. Andrew Coventry, my lady. Of Coventry & Co. I’m a solicitor. I am here on a matter of great urgency.”
The only great urgency Amelia could think of was the Americans and the contract that needed to be signed. A tiny trickle of anxiety crawled down her spine. Either this was good news—the contract was signed—or it was bad. And given they’d yet to visit the firm and see Tessie in action, there was a high chance it was bad.
She fixed a smile on her face. “Greenhill, please send Charlie down to the firm to fetch Mr. Asterly. Mr. Coventry, would you like tea while you wait?”
She guided him toward the sitting room just as Cassandra thundered down the stairs with the grace of a thousand elephants, two coats in her arms. She skidded to a stop when she reached the landing.
Mr. Coventry blanched.
Amelia cringed. She’d been lax on Cassandra’s training in the past few days, and that short loosening of the reins had allowed her to slip back into unladylike behaviors.
“Cassandra. There’s been a change of plans, I’m afraid. Why don’t you go do your lessons, and we’ll go for our walk later?”
“She is an…energetic…creature,” Mr. Coventry said when Cassandra had left.
“Youth has its advantages,” she replied, leading him through the door.
“She might as well enjoy the freedom now. Things are about to change for her.”
It was an offhand comment. He didn’t elaborate. But the trickle of anxiety became a deluge. It soaked under her dress, filled her slippers, and made her shiver to the bone. Maybe it was just her recent foray into novel reading, but for the first time in her life, she felt a sense of impending doom.
Something was very, very wrong.
Chapter23
Benedict strode into the morning room with sharp steps that echoed his frustration at having to leave work. The pressure was on. Once the contract was signed, they’d need to launch straight into a production schedule twice as fast as originally planned—and now Tessie had developed a problem. It needed solving fast, and he couldn’t do it from the sitting room.
That said, if the lawyer Charlie mentioned was from the Americans…God, what if he was there to say the contract had been given to someone else? What the devil would happen then?
He entered the sitting room where his wife had a teacup in hand while the lawyer—a reedy-looking man if he’d ever seen one—was laughing.
Thank God for Amelia. Benedict was too rough and too straight-talking to deal comfortably with London folk. Amelia was smooth as cream and could put anyone at ease. She was an element of his business negotiations that he hadn’t known he needed.
The thin fellow stood when he saw Benedict enter. He gave a deep bow. This man was definitely not from the Americans.
Benedict held out his hand. “Mr. Coventry, I presume.”
The lawyer hesitated a moment before clasping it. His handshake was like a wet fish—clammy and soft.
“What can I do for you?” Perhaps he was too direct, but he didn’t have time fit for wasting.
The man flicked his eyes to Amelia and back to Benedict. “Perhaps it would be best if we spoke in private?”
Muscles tightened around Amelia’s jaw. Her lips thinned almost imperceptibly. Nothing annoyed her like being left out of gossip.
