Page 22 of The Time for Love
She was itching with curiosity by the time they reached the main office. Martin held open the door, then followed her inside. Harvey spotted them and semaphored madly, indicating that, as instructed, Coulter was waiting in her office, the door to which was helpfully shut.
She glanced at Martin. He met her gaze and waved her on, and she led the way past the counter, opened the door, and swept inside.
At the sight of her, Coulter, who’d been sitting, apparently impatiently, in one of the visitors’ chairs, leapt to his feet. “Miss Carmichael.” His gaze swept over her, and his eyes lit, and his smile bloomed—only to immediately and rather comically fade as he saw Martin in her wake.
Coulter was brown haired, brown eyed, not quite as tall as Martin but of similar build. His attire was equally precise and expensive, although he favored browns rather than the blacks, charcoals, and grays Martin favored. Stiffening, Coulter stared past her. “Cynster.”
Coulter’s jaw clenched. Sophy suspected he was grinding his teeth.
“Mr. Coulter.” When he looked at her, she nodded equably and walked behind her desk. “Good morning. I understand you and Mr. Cynster are acquainted.” She waved Coulter to the chair he’d vacated. “Please, won’t you sit and tell me what brings you here?”
Stiff and distinctly prickly, Coulter remained standing and looked at Martin.
Outwardly calm and unruffled, Martin closed the door. Despite his appearance, Sophy sensed he was less relaxed than he had been. He nodded at Coulter. “Oliver.”
His eyes narrowing, Coulter looked from Martin to Sophy.
She smiled, sat, and clasped her hands on her blotter; this was rather amusing. “You and Mr. Cynster are acquainted, are you not? Do I have that right?” The pair reminded her of two bantam cocks placed in the same coop.
Coulter glanced at Martin and grumbled, “Acquainted? Yes, you might say that.”
She looked from one to the other; despite their wariness, she sensed no actual animosity between them but rather uncertainty. They might not be friends, but they weren’t enemies, either.
Coulter returned his gaze to her. “I was hoping to meet with you and discuss a possible business venture.”
She arched her brows and, again, waved to the chair. “Further to your earlier communication?”
He sat. “Indeed.”
Instead of claiming the second visitor’s chair—possibly too close to Coulter for his liking—Martin ambled to lounge against the cabinets that lined the wall behind and to the right of Sophy’s desk, both position and posture indicating he was there in support, but didn’t intend to participate in the discussion.
Regardless, Coulter’s gaze locked on him.
Sophy inwardly sighed; yes, Martin Cynster was a transfixing presence, but Coulter would have to get over it. “Your business venture, Mr. Coulter. I take it you still wish to buy Carmichael Steelworks?”
Her question had Coulter focusing on her. Then he frowned. “While I had learned that you were the majority shareholder, I hadn’t realized you took an active interest in the business. If I had, I would have come in person sooner.”
She widened her eyes. “Why? Do you imagine that, as a female, I’ll prove easier to sway in person?”
“No!” He flushed and glanced at Martin. “I…” He swallowed. “That is, if I could speak with you in private?”
His faintly pained expression suggested that he realized how that sounded. For a lady such as she to meet privately with a gentleman…
She decided to put him out of his misery. “I seriously doubt Mr. Cynster will agree to that, and I know of no way to eject him, forcibly or otherwise, and I would strongly suggest you don’t try. Not in my office at any rate.” She shot Martin a warning glance, then returned her attention to Coulter. “However, I have no qualms about him hearing firsthand what you wish to say to me. That will simply mean I don’t have to tell him later and will save time all around. Regardless, he does not make decisions pertaining to Carmichael Steelworks. I do. So”—she gestured to Coulter—“please, proceed.”
His lips tight, Coulter studied her for several seconds.
With her hands clasped on her blotter, she stared back.
Finally, he began, “As I stated in my letter, I would like to discuss…”
She listened attentively as he outlined his proposal to buy Carmichael Steelworks, and indeed, he did a better job of making his case in person than he had in writing. Sadly for him, his proposal—which amounted to a straightforward purchase, with Carmichael Steelworks becoming the first steel-associated business Coulter Enterprises owned, with no wider vision in place—was nowhere near as compelling as Martin’s fully fledged, well-thought-out, and virtually complete portfolio of connected businesses, with real potential to expand even further.
In terms of ideas and solid future prospects, Martin’s offer beat Coulter’s hands down.
If she was to accept any offer, it would be Martin Cynster’s.
Not that she intended to sell to either man.
