Page 26 of The Time for Love
Martin stared at Oliver, then huffed. “I knew there was some reason I thought we should include you in our deliberations. That’s an entirely valid point.” He looked at Sophy. “If someone wants to transform the business into something that’s no longer identified as Carmichael Steelworks, then attacking the business in what are, ultimately, minor ways makes sense. Nothing they’ve done has damaged any of the major machinery.”
“That’s true.” She frowned. “But they must want the steel for something.” She looked at Martin, then across the table at Oliver. “Have either of you heard of anyone currently wanting to move into the steel industry in some way other than as a straightforward steel producer?”
Oliver shook his head. “I haven’t, but I should have guessed Martin would be interested in Carmichael Steelworks.”
“And I should have guessed you might be, too,” Martin said, “but both of us are interested in continuing Carmichael’s as a steelworks, albeit as one of a string of associated businesses. I haven’t heard of and can’t immediately think of anyone else—any other investor of the right caliber who might be looking this way.”
“Nor I.” Oliver paused, then added, “In fact, other than you and me, I can’t think of anyone with the money to invest and an interest in Sheffield steel. At present, those interested in investing in steel are focusing on other towns.”
Martin nodded. “That sums it up. I also can’t think of any established company beyond yours and mine for whom such an acquisition would make commercial sense at this time.”
Oliver murmured agreement, and they fell silent again.
After a moment, Sophy ventured, “Given all that, perhaps we shouldn’t be looking for a commercial motive.”
Oliver frowned. “What other motive could there be?”
Martin shifted to face her. “Do you or your family—or, indeed, the steelworks itself—have any enemies? Any ill-wishers of any kind?”
She blinked at him. “No. The steelworks are well respected, and we’ve never had even a disagreement with anyone.”
“Not a neighbor?” Martin asked. “Not a competitor? No fatal accidents in the past?”
Adamantly, she shook her head. “No disagreements of any kind, and that extends to myself and, as far as I’m aware, the family as a whole.”
“What about disgruntled suitors?” Oliver suggested. “Surely you must have some of those?”
Martin hid a smile as Sophy directed a look of haughty disdain across the table, but he was listening avidly when she repressively replied, “No. Nothing of that sort. I’ve never had any interest in society or the Marriage Mart. I’ve always made it clear I’m devoted to the steelworks, so no. We need to look elsewhere for our villain.”
“All right.” Martin caught her eye. “Let’s try another tack. Who else has a financial interest in the steelworks?”
She readily replied, “My paternal cousins Edward and Charlie Carmichael, my late uncle’s sons, each have a fifteen-percent shareholding, but neither has ever shown any interest in the steelworks. Both are entirely content to pocket the distributions that come their way and otherwise ignore the business.”
Martin exchanged a look with Oliver; neither could imagine such disinterest, not if one had a stake in a business, even if only fifteen percent. Martin returned his gaze to Sophy. “Can you describe them for us? What interests they have, what type of gentlemen they are.”
Sophy huffed; judging by her attitude, she didn’t approve of her cousins’ disinterest, either. “Edward is the elder. He’s thirty-three. He inherited his father’s house in Sycamore Street and lives a bachelor existence there. He hasn’t any real interests as such, no passionate hobbies, at least none that I know of. He’s a stuffy sort, stiff and starchy and, if one allows it, overbearing.”
Martin surmised Sophy didn’t allow Edward any opportunity to indulge his overbearing tendencies.
“As for Charlie… He’s twenty-seven, a year younger than me, and is widely considered to be a profligate hedonist who cares only for the latest reckless challenge. He gambles, although I know nothing of any details. He spends much of his time in London, in lodgings, and when in Sheffield—where I suspect he only comes to rusticate and avoid his creditors—he often stays with Edward, but sometimes Edward makes that unbearable, so Charlie will put up at one of the local inns.”
She paused, then shook her head. “I can’t imagine either being involved in these accidents. Neither has ever evinced the slightest interest in the steelworks.”
Martin exchanged a look with Oliver. Neither of them, Martin felt sure, was quite so ready to discount either cousin. It sounded as if Charlie might have debts, and no man could possibly be as disinterested in life as she’d made her cousin Edward out to be.
Sophy glanced at the watch-brooch pinned to her bodice and sighed. “I have to get back. I have orders to check and authorize.”
The three of them rose, and Oliver paid their shot. They left the pub and walked to the steelworks, Martin on Sophy’s right and Oliver on her left.
On the pavement outside the office door, Martin and Oliver made their farewells.
With Oliver there, Martin refrained from taking Sophy’s hand or paying her any particular attention. But before she turned away, he held her gaze for just a second longer than called for, and she returned his regard.
Feeling just a touch happier—more content—he watched as the office door closed behind her, then Oliver gestured along the street and set off, and Martin fell in alongside.
For several minutes, he and Oliver strolled along, side by side, just two gentlemen idly ambling toward the town center.
Canes swinging, they were pacing up Bow Street when Oliver said, “I don’t know about you, but I have difficulty believing Sophy’s cousins are totally disinterested in a valuable asset such as the steelworks.”
