And not because of the chambermaids and their extra hour’s sleep in the morning, or the mothers with eight children who just need that extra ten minutes.
No, she needed the sale because she needed the money. Money that would leave her independent from anyone else. If she was truly honest, it was money that drove her to create the matches, not some noble crusade to make the world better. It wasn’t enough to be a duchess and have access to Edward’s money. She wanted her own. She wanted true self-sufficiency, and she would not get it as long as she relied on a man.
“If ye want to focus on the financial benefits, those chambermaids could spend the extra time sweeping the floors. Households may even be able to let some o’ their workers go.” And she did her best to ignore the hot crawl of shame up her neck.
“I disagree with my man of business in this,” Lord Chester said. “I believe there may be a market for such a product and it’s something I’m willing to take a punt on.”
Relief washed through her. “Thank ye, my lord. Ye won’t be disappointed. Our Abingdale factory is ready tolaunch into production at yer earliest convenience. I have quotes from the suppliers of the raw materials, and they can deliver the necessary materials within a month.”
Chester shook his head. “Hold up, McTavish. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
Fiona took in a deep breath in an effort to restrain herself. She was so close to the dream. It was almost assured. She simply had to calm down and work through these final steps without scaring her prospective business partners off. “Of course. We’ll need to negotiate the contract first. I’ve taken the liberty o’ drawing up a draft that we can use as a starting point.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out the sheaf of papers John’s lawyer had put together. She offered it to him, but he declined to accept it.
“First, you need to confirm that you have a patent for this.” The mood turned cold, quickly.
Drat. Damn that stalling patent officer.If this deal was delayed because of him, she’d strip his hide. “The patent is pending. All the necessary documents are with the office, and they have assured me that it will be approved shortly.”
“And there are no disputes?” The men exchanged pointed looks, as though they knew something she didn’t. A spark of unease ignited inside her.
“Nae. No one else is working on friction-based matches. There is some headway being made on chemical matches, however, they’re more volatile an’ more difficult to transport. They won’t go anywhere once my product hits the market.”
“That’s interesting,” Lord Chester said, “given we met with another Scotsman this morning, whose product is identical. And he assures us that his patent is on the cusp of approval.”
Unease flared into outright fear. Her stomach dropped and her mouth went dry. It couldn’t be. The scientific community was small. John would have known if there was someone else working on a similar product. “Who is he?” she demanded in a tone that probably didn’t help.
“We’re not at liberty to share that information. All we can tell you is that he approached us this morning. The test results he presented were thorough and the sample he showed us looked somewhat more finessed than yours.”
The only reason her samples weren’t finessed was because she’d had to make a new set at such short notice. Through gritted teeth she asked, “And what is his background? What proof do ye have that this is in facthiswork?”
“About as much proof we have that it is yours,” one of the men said sternly.
She clasped her hands together so tightly her fingertips would likely leave bruises. But it was that or thump them on the table in righteous fury andthatwould not be viewed well.
“I cannae believe it.” Her words came out calm but clipped. “There is nae another person in England working on this.” John would have known. He’d have heard some kind of whisper. “Please. I’ve worked on this product for a very long time. I’ve devoted every waking minute to it for years.”
Chester neatened the papers in front of him and handed them to his man of business. “If this is truly your work, then you have a week to bring me the evidence. We will delay our decision until then.”
***
Once again, Andrew fell into step beside her as she exited the building. She’d suggested he stay back at the house, but he’d insisted on coming with her, despite there being little reason for Finley to be chaperoned. It seemed the pomp and rigidity of the duke’s household was overwhelming the young footman. Not even Amelia’s household had the same heavy sense of hierarchy and stringent formality. Following Fiona around London appeared to be a much-needed escape.
“How did it go, miss?”
“Badly, Andrew. Very badly.”
“They didn’t like your matches?”
“Oh, they liked them. They want to go into business. Just not necessarily with me.”
Confusion flittered across Andrew’s face. It matched the confusion she was feeling. “They were approached this morning by a man who had the exact same product.”
“Is that likely?”
“No.”
“The timing is quite coincidental.”
“It is.”
