Page 88 of The Time for Love
Lady Bracknell made a rude sound, dismissively waving aside the objection, while Julia bent a sternly reproving look on Edward, which only left him even more confused.
Martin calmly informed Edward, “I’m here because Sophy has agreed to marry me, so I’m present in the role of her fiancé.”
Sophy’s aunt gave a joyful squeak and, beaming, leaned across to grip Sophy’s hand.
Leaving Sophy to deal with her aunt, Martin glanced at Oliver and saw his pleased—and rather knowing—smile, alongside Charlie’s delighted surprise. “As for Coulter,” Martin continued, determined to keep the discussion on track, “he’s a friend who has been helping us unravel the facts of this case.”
He returned his gaze to Edward. “All that we’ve discovered has led us here, to you, Edward. We need to know what our mystery man wants with you, and most importantly, we need you to tell us who he is and what you know of his goals.”
Edward stared at Martin for several long moments, then rather pompously stated, “I cannot believe you have any of this right. You’ve confused your mystery man with the gentleman with whom I’m acquainted, that’s all.”
Martin was beginning to have greater sympathy for Charlie. “Is that so? Then perhaps you could tell us who else fits the description we have and has an interest in underhandedly ensuring control of the steelworks passes to you.”
Edward frowned. “I told you. I have no notion of what that’s about.”
Lady Bracknell snorted. “Give over, Edward. Who the devil is the man you were seen talking to, and what the devil was he talking to you about?” She stared belligerently at Edward, then spread her hands. “If all is as above board as you insist, what have you to fear?”
Her ladyship’s jibe touched Edward on the raw. He colored, then lips primmed, turned back to Martin and Sophy. “If you must know, the gentleman I’ve been speaking with is a wealthy landowner who has many properties all around the country.”
“And his name?” Martin asked.
“Blackwell.” Edward tipped up his chin and, in a superior manner, stated, “His name is Mr. Cornelius Blackwell.”
“Blackwell?”The exclamation burst from Martin’s, Oliver’s, and Sophy’s throats.
It was clearly their turn to be shocked. All three stared at Edward, appalled and utterly aghast.
Their horrified reaction wasn’t what Edward had expected. He frowned at them. “Yes.”
Charlie’s mouth had fallen agape. He snapped it shut, stared at his brother, then softly cursed and asked, “Good Lord, Edward! Don’t you know who Cornelius Blackwell is?”
Uncertain, Edward repeated, “He’s a landowner. He said he owns properties around London, Birmingham, Manchester, and Nottingham.”
“Slumproperties, Edward. My God!” Charlie shook his head in disgust. “Of all people, I would never have picked you to be happily consorting with the likes of Blackwell.”
“Even I know who Cornelius Blackwell is.” Sophy crossed her arms and frowned at Edward.
“Well!” her ladyship said. “Neither Julia nor I have the slightest clue, so please, someone, explain.”
His tone unusually steely, his gaze condemnatory, Oliver obliged. “Cornelius Blackwell is, technically, a landowner. He owns the largest estates of slum housing in London and in those other cities you mentioned.”
Martin elaborated, “Blackwell is known for building what he terms ‘houses for workers.’ His buildings look good enough when new, but the work is cut-price and shoddy, and the houses—usually row houses cheek by jowl—quickly deteriorate into effective slums, but by then, he’s lured workers with families into rental contracts. Most if not all do not understand the detailed clauses in those contracts, but the terms of those leases effectively make them and their families into more or less indentured slaves for the rest of their lives.”
“It’s the worst sort of usury,” Charlie declared.
Edward stared at his brother. “There must be some mistake.” But from his tone, even he no longer believed that.
Martin glanced at Oliver. “I assume Blackwell’s usual goals explain his interest in making Edward the controlling shareholder of Carmichael Steelworks.”
Edward frowned. “What do you mean?”
Martin studied Edward for a moment, then explained, “I suspect Blackwell’s move to make you the controlling shareholder is because he believes he can influence you, either to go into business with him or to sell him the steelworks. Either would satisfy him, I expect.”
“But…” Edward returned to shaking his head. He looked at Sophy. “I have no interest in running the steelworks. You know I’ve never harbored the slightest desire to take over the reins.”
Sophy nodded. “I know that, but does Blackwell know that?” She, too, studied Edward. “Did Blackwell talk to you about the steelworks? Perhaps ask what you thought of the current management?”
Edward looked decidedly uncomfortable. When Sophy arched her brows and waited—and everyone else also looked at him questioningly—he cleared his throat and managed to get out, “I might have…said something. He might have…misinterpreted and got the wrong idea…”
