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Farlow’s Women’s Branch? Was that what they were calling it?

John wondered what Reina thought about her bank having someone else’s name on it. He glanced over the rest of the page.

Records and Audits Clause

—Miss Martin objects to having women’s branch financial records stored at the head office of Farlow’s bank.

—Also objects to having restricted access to women’s branch reports, audits, and transaction logs.

—Further objects to having no ability to approve loans or disburse funds.

—Raises concern over no access to past and current records of Farlow’s (the Parent Bank) cash book, general ledger, loan book, and depositor’s register.

—Miss Martin requests removal of entire clause.

John’s brows lifted slightly. Although he wasn’t versed in banking procedure, he was pretty sure that denying Reina access to records and reports would make her incapable of accomplishing much of anything at the women’s branch.

Why turn someone of her abilities into a mere figurehead?

Maybe Farlow was trying to maintain his dominance in their relationship. Maybe he felt threatened by Reina or thought she needed to learn the ropes first. It was possible he doubted the viability of the women’s branch and wanted to maintain control in case it went into decline.

Or maybe he wanted to hide something from her.

“—you’ll design the interior of the branch,” Farlow was saying, “as well as develop products and policies, and hire staff. You’ll also be the public relations officer. Those are all very important jobs, wouldn’t you agree?”

“William, how can I advise my customers when I don’t have access to their financial information? How are they supposed to trust me when every decision has to be cleared through an office that’s miles away?”

“It’s a large international bank with seventy branches,” Farlow said gently. “A centralized system is the only way it can be managed. It’s a question of oversight.”

“Then I want to register the women’s branch independently, instead of linking it to your bank.”

Farlow set down his teacup, his gaze filled with rueful sympathy. “It’s unlikely the Board of Trade will agree to register an all-women’s bank without a parent entity to supervise it.”

The agitated pencil spun in Reina’s slender fingers like a whirligig.

Taking advantage of the lull, John brought plates to the table. As Reina saw that he’d set her favorite divided plate in front of her, she smiled up at him.

John held her gaze for a second or two to make a subtle point: Details mattered. What she liked, what she wanted, shouldn’t be lost amid all the negotiations.

“Ma’am,” he said, “Mr. Goodluck has kindly agreed to assist with the rest of this course. I’ll return shortly.”

“Is something amiss?” she asked.

“No cause for concern, ma’am.” He bowed and headed to the sideboard, gesturing for Norman to follow.

As soon as Norman reached him, John said quietly, “Set the sandwiches on the table along with the silver tongs. Then serve the ham slices and beefsteak pie and then the cress salad.”

“Yes, sir. Which side do I—”

“Serve from the right, remove from the left.” After a pause, John couldn’t resist asking, “How is it you can’t remember that, but you can remember a complicated filing system?”

“Different part of my head, sir.”

“Whatever part of your head you’re using at the moment,” John said, removing his white gloves, “I’m counting on you.”

“Yes, sir.”

John handed the gloves to Norman and went back downstairs as fast as possible. A quiet, unearthly sound, a sort of ghostly moan, came from the housekeeper’s room. The back of his neck prickled with uneasiness. He crossed the threshold of the sitting room and tapped at the bedroom door.