Page 19 of The Time for Love
If they kept their voices low, they could converse in reasonable privacy.
“I’ve been wracking my brains,” she murmured by way of opening the discussion, “over who might be behind all this. You mentioned competitors.”
He arched a brow. “You’ve thought of someone?”
“Not specifically. As I said, while we have no local competitors—something no doubt you’ve already verified from your research into steelworks, especially if you’ve been focusing on those works that produce custom alloys...” She paused, a question in her eyes, and he dipped his head.
“Yes. In this region, Carmichael Steelworks stood out.”
She nodded. “So we have no real competitors locally, but from farther afield, I know there are several works around Birmingham and also about Newcastle that are envious of some of the contracts we currently hold.” She frowned. “I might hypothesize that one of those firms, desperate for the work—and as we’re talking of government contracts, there’s a certain element of prestige attached—have decided to compromise Carmichael’s ability to deliver so that we’ll fail, and they can step in.” She met Martin’s eyes. “The puzzle is why they either wouldn’t approach me first with an offer to take over the contract, which they could do, or alternatively, simply underbid me when the contracts come up for renewal.”
She pulled a face. “Hobbling another steelworks seems a rather desperate tack for any respectable firm, and of course, to be considered for government contracts, you need to be a respectable firm.”
“It’s hard to imagine any reputable business going to such lengths.” Martin paused, then added, “Over the past days, my men have been haunting the pubs and taverns, chatting and asking around, searching for any hint of unexpected others, especially from outside the locality, who’ve shown an interest in Carmichael Steelworks. My men are good at what they do, yet they haven’t stumbled across anyone.”
“Exactly.” Sophy raised her hands in a helpless gesture, then allowing them to fall to the chair’s arms, she stared across the room. “I literally cannot think of who it might be, let alone why anyone would do such a thing. It makes no sense.”
Martin studied her frustrated expression, then looked at Julia, who remained absorbed with her tatting. “The timing of the accidents. You said they started over two weeks ago?”
Sophy nodded. “Saturday, two weeks back, to be precise.”
“Think of the preceding month or even two months.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees and fixing his gaze on her face. “Over that time, did anyone contact you regarding buying the steelworks or even about some specific contract?”
She wrinkled her nose, her gaze growing distant as she thought. “We receive inquiries fairly regularly, but not so frequently as that. But thinking back, over the past two months, aside from your letters, I did receive one other inquiry regarding buying the works.” She narrowed her eyes. “About five weeks ago, I think. About a week before your first letter.”
“Did you refuse the offer in writing?”
She met his eyes and faintly colored. She hadn’t replied to him. “I did. Quite promptly.”
“So they would have received your letter rejecting the offer several weeks ago, before the accidents started.”
She nodded.
“So timing-wise, it’s possible they—for whatever convoluted reason—might be behind the attacks.” A thought occurred, and he went on, “It’s possible the accidents are intended to simply make life sufficiently difficult for you—a well-born female—so that you throw up your hands and entertain their offer.” He held her gaze. “Not many people outside Sheffield would know you’re not just the majority owner—that’s easily learned—but that you are actively involved in running the steelworks. I didn’t know that until I arrived here.”
She returned his gaze, her own steady. “The other offer was from a group in London.”
“Who?”
“Coulter Enterprises.”
He blinked.
She studied his expression. “You know them.”
He grimaced. “I should have guessed.” He met her eyes. “Oliver Coulter and I are…competitors of sorts. We went to Eton together, but thereafter, our paths diverged. More recently, I discovered he’s been gradually expanding into the same areas in which I’m involved.” He tipped his head. “At present, our business interests run roughly parallel. That said, my plans in this particular sector are rather more advanced than his. While the Carmichael works would provide the final piece in my overall structure, the works would be Oliver’s first foray into steel.”
“I see.” She searched his eyes. “Could Mr. Coulter be behind the accidents?”
Martin considered that, then grimaced. “I don’t know him that well. Not these days. Has he visited the works?”
“No. He wrote from London, and as far as I know, he hasn’t visited Sheffield and certainly not our works. From the tone of his letter, like you, his interest was driven by our size and also our ability with alloys. One can learn of those things from a distance, as you did.”
Martin nodded. “If Oliver didn’t know that you were actively involved with the works, then the reasoning I mentioned earlier—of making life uncomfortable for you—might have occurred to him.” He paused, then shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thought he would have resorted to accidents, though. That’s too underhanded for the man I once knew, but I haven’t spoken to him other than socially for years.” He lightly shrugged. “He might have changed.” He met her eyes. “I really can’t say either way.”
The door opened, and Richards rolled the tea trolley in, and Julia looked up and laid aside her tatting.
Martin rose and dutifully handed Sophy her cup, then took his own and resumed his seat.
