Page 8 of A Deal with the Rebellious Marquess
‘Yes, I hear she sold the store and her other business interests to the Duke of Cowden for a tidy sum.’ Was that what Fleur Griffiths envied? Did she wish to sell and unburden herself from the enterprises her husband had chosen? After a year in the editor’s seat, was it proving too much? Yet here she was, using her papers to renew interest in the Bilberry Dam. That scenario seemed unlikely.
‘Do you desire to follow in Mrs Popplewell’s footsteps?’ He studied her, trying to read her expression. What was hidden there? Regret? Grief? Envy?
‘To new lands or new husbands?’ she parried, meeting him with a bold gaze. ‘What makes you think I want either?’
‘You said you were missing your friends. It is not unrealistic to suppose you felt their new husbands have competed for their attentions and won.’ Fleur Griffiths struck him as the type of woman who enjoyed competition, but not losing. He toyed with his wine glass, shooting her a strong look at the last. ‘Perhaps you miss what they now have?’
Her retort was sharp. ‘And what exactly do they have?’ The boldness of his question was not lost on her.
‘They have love again and they both have a second chance for whatever their former lives failed to give them,’ he mused out loud.
‘I am happy for my friends, not because they have new husbands but because they have what they need. If that need comes in the form of a man, then so be it.’ She took a swallow of her wine. The swallow was manufactured, he’d wager, to cover emotion. He’d turned over a few rocks with his comments. Why not flip another one over?
‘What of your need, Mrs Griffiths? What would you do with a second chance?’ he enquired.
‘Perhaps I don’t need a second chance. Perhaps I have all that I require. I have my work. Running a newspaper syndicate is an all-consuming job. It leaves little time for other things,’ she replied hotly, outwardly offended by his assumption, but it evidently wasn’t the entire truth as something shifted in her eyes, darkening them with another shadow. This woman still grieved, although not only for her husband. She’d lost something more, something beyond Adam Griffiths, something her husband had perhaps been a gateway to.
A family? Children? How ironic that her husband’s job pulled him away from such things whereas Jasper’s position as a marquess drew him in, binding him and his family ever more tightly together. His fate was their fate, and their fates were his. Something he’d best remember when dealing with Mrs Griffiths. His intrigue with her was slowly leading him from the intended path. The questions that filled his mind weren’t about the dam or the information she had linking Orion to the disaster, but about her—what did she want from life? Did she enjoy the newspaper business?
‘I have all I need, Lord Umberton.’ She was cool again. ‘I have my work. There is little time for anything else at present.’
He paused his questions and took a small spoonful of thecrème pistachethat had just been set in front of them—cool and green, like Mrs Griffiths’s eyes. At this proximity, the comparison could not be escaped. ‘Is that why you’ve opened the dam investigation again? Your work demands it? Or does something more demand it?’ It was time to bring the conversation back to business.
‘My workisthe search for truth. That is why I am bringing the Bilberry Dam to the public’s attention again. Is that not your work as well? As a member of the House of Lords?’
‘And you feel the truth is that Lord Orion Bexley is at fault for the entire accident? Your articles suggest as much.’ He watched her face carefully.
‘His name is the one thread that runs through the paperwork documenting the building of the dam, the issues with the dam’s structural integrity as well as the lax oversight of the commission. The verdict was clear that in order for a conviction to be made, there must be a singular culprit. I think one has emerged.’
She was so sure, so confident as she said the words. He saw the situation from her perspective: find a culprit, blame him, claim a verdict. And then what? Had she thought beyond that for herself, for all who would be affected? Her confidence did raise some concern for him. What did she think she knew that fuelled that confidence? What did she know that he did not? Because, not for a minute did he think Orion had told him everything. Worry in the form of sweat began to bead beneath his collar and pristine cravat.
He gathered his calm. ‘Forgive me for the bluntness, Mrs Griffiths, but what have you discovered that Captain Moody’s investigation and the subsequent enquiry did not see at the time? Captain Moody is known for his thoroughness. It is hard to believe something this significant went without his notice.’
‘The enquiry was thorough and it was expedient,’ she agreed, her tongue flicking over the tiny spoon ofcrème pistachein a manner that spoke to him of other ways that tongue might be employed. ‘But while expediency has its merits, it does not allow enough time for deep truth to bubble to the surface, for patterns to be unearthed and understood. But I’ve had time.’ The last rang like a warning in his mind.
‘If I am to come alongside your new efforts, I would want to know what those patterns are. You must understand that a man’s reputation is a precious commodity. I cannot squander it on conjecture.’
Her eyes flared and her shoulders straightened. ‘And a woman’s reputation is to be squandered on conjecture?’ He’d insulted her. ‘Do you think I am in the habit of running a newspaper syndicate on conjecture and rumour? I assure you, when I tell you I have real evidence by which the dots can be connected, that I have it.’
Another frisson of concern snaked down Jasper’s back.What if she did?What if Orion was indeed involved? Orion and Trouble were fast friends. He immediately felt disloyal to his brother for the traitorous thought. The onus of proof should be on this green-eyed minx who sought to stir up that trouble.
The waiter brought coffee to signal the end of the meal, a meal that had provided Jasper with food for both body and thought. ‘I would like to know your goals. What do you hope to accomplish?’
She fixed him with a long incredulous stare as if it wasn’t obvious to him. ‘Why, justice, Lord Umberton. It has been a year and more and there’s been no legislation introduced to improve dam oversight and there’s been no attempt to make a conviction.’
He was swift to correct her. ‘Therehasbeen an attempt and it was unsuccessful because a conviction was not possible. I do agree. The lack of forthcoming legislation is immensely disappointing given that the findings at the dam strongly identified a need for it. I can give you help with legislation.’ He gave a shrug. Legislation was something they could agree on, something he could help deliver.
On the strength of that common ground, she might entrust him with the information she had regarding Orion’s involvement with the dam accident. If he was to test the veracity of her information, he had to have access to it. His conscience stirred a bit at that. He was walking a fine line here. But the pursuit of truth and logic demanded he set aside empathy. How else would he know what he was really up against?
He did care about dam legislation. Meltham wasn’t far from Holmfirth. The dam project that serviced the rivers in that area was a constant concern for him. He’d hoped having Orion on the commission would have been a step towards better management. But the reverse had happened instead. It was imperative he know how deep in Orion was.
‘Legislation is a start, but it isnotjustice for what happened,’ she said in a stern tone. He could not miss the emotion beneath.
Jasper gave a slow stir to his coffee, mixing in the cream and watching it lighten as he carefully chose his words. ‘And justice is not the same as vengeance. I wonder if you’ve confused the two.’ He watched her go still and braced himself for an outburst that could very well see his coffee dumped on his lap. No matter how she tried to mask it, Mrs Griffiths had a temper. Emotion was beneath her words, beneath her choices. She wasn’t afraid to boldly speak her mind. She was a woman whofeltthings, a stark contrast to his own logic.
‘I think you overstep yourself on such brief acquaintance,’ she said quietly. Too quietly. ‘There are very few people who dare to speak to me that way.’
‘Then perhaps there should be more,’ Jasper countered. ‘Have you thought of what happens if Lord Orion Bexley is legally prosecuted? Or even if he is just socially prosecuted by his peers, which has already begun? Let me remind you that actions have consequences, Mrs Griffiths. For better or worse, a man’s life will be ruined, his family’s as well simply by association. And all for what? What will that ruination achieve? What will it change?’
