Page 29 of The Time for Love
“If memory serves,” Oliver murmured as he and Martin headed Mellow’s way, “his family lives in the district.”
Mellow hadn’t noticed them; he appeared wholly focused on the almost-empty glass of whiskey before him. Martin fronted the bar on one side, while Oliver did the same on the other.
“What-ho, Mellow?” Martin asked. “Rusticating again?”
Mellow cut him a sidelong look. “Cynster. And sadly, you’re correct.” He noticed Oliver. “You here as well, Coulter?” Mellow looked from Oliver to Martin. “Didn’t know you two were close. Can’t imagine you’re gracing this lovely town for the same reason I am.”
“We’re old school friends,” Oliver replied. “And no, we’re here for other reasons.”
“In pursuit of those reasons”—Martin leaned on the bar and signaled the barman to repeat Mellow’s order and provide the same to him and Oliver—“we bumped into a gentleman, a member of this club. He’s in the smoking room at present. Edward Carmichael.” The barman placed the three glasses of whiskey on the counter before them. Martin reached for one and nudged the second Mellow’s way. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about him, would you? Anything at all—personal, business, whatever.”
Mellow drained the glass he was holding, set it down, and reached for the one Martin had provided. “Don’t know him well. He’s standoffish and, I would say, a loner. I’ve rarely seen him in anyone else’s company, although I gather he’s well known in town. Possibly a family thing. The Carmichaels have been here since the year dot.”
Sipping his drink, Mellow turned, scanning the room, then his features lightened. He nodded toward two gentlemen of similar age, farther down the bar. “Casey’ll likely know more. He’s the biggest gossip in town.”
Mellow caught the pair’s attention and beckoned.
Patently curious as to who Martin and Oliver were, Casey and his friend eagerly joined them. Mellow made the introductions and explained Martin and Oliver’s desire to know more about Edward Carmichael.
“Oh, very much a man who prefers his own company,” Casey said. “More than that, he’s a stiff customer and quite a wet blanket. He doesn’t belong to any group—has no interest in the dinner club or the wine club and definitely not anything to do with gambling. Not even bridge! As far as I know, he has no close friends. No one makes the effort with him anymore.”
“Hmm.” Pritchard—the other gentleman who’d joined them—nodded sagely. “I’d agree with every word, but perhaps Edward has interests that connect with others farther afield. I saw him bring in a guest a few weeks ago—a hard-looking man in a very nice coat. He and Edward seemed quite chummy, which, of course, is why I noticed so particularly. I’ve never known Edward to be the chatty sort, yet the pair were quite animated and very absorbed in whatever they were talking about.” Clearly caught up in the memory, Pritchard added, “Never seen anything like it, actually—Edward animated. Quite a sight.”
Casey snorted. “Now, if you’d been asking after the younger Carmichael—Charlie—that would have been a different story.”
“Oh?” Martin prompted.
Casey and Pritchard both nodded wisely.
“A game one, is young Charlie,” Casey said. “Always up for a lark and a laugh and good company, too. Couldn’t imagine a bigger contrast to his older brother.”
“A pity Charlie spends so much of his time these days in London,” Pritchard said. “We could use some of his liveliness in this place.”
“He probably heads to London to escape Edward,” Casey sapiently remarked. “And really, who could blame him?”
That seemed to be the extent of what Martin and Oliver were destined to learn, at least without more pointed questioning. After wordlessly agreeing there was no benefit in highlighting their interest further, they finished their drinks, bade farewell to Mellow, Casey, and Pritchard, and made their way out of the club.
As they stepped onto the pavement, Oliver said, “We might not have learned much, but at least we learned something.”
“Hmm.” Martin swung his cane as they started along the street. “I suggest we need to digest what we heard, decide if it sheds any light on the accidents, then define what more we need to know and how we might learn it.”
* * *
They accomplished the first of their self-appointed tasks over a satisfying dinner in the Kings Head dining room. Reviewing what they’d heard didn’t take that long, but they decided to leave more detailed discussion until later, when they weren’t in such a public place.
Since their initial meeting in Sophy’s office, they hadn’t mentioned their competing bids for Carmichael Steelworks. Now, with the clink of cutlery and the hum of conversations all around them, Oliver asked about Martin’s other steel-based businesses.
Martin answered without reservation and could almost see the wheels turning in Oliver’s head.
By the time they reached the end of the meal, it was clear Oliver had worked out how the land lay. He set down his napkin and, across the table, met Martin’s eyes. “Carmichael Steelworks is far more critical to you than it is to me.”
Martin inclined his head. “It’s the final and central piece I need to complete my steel portfolio.”
Oliver nodded. “You’re ahead of me in this area, and you started acquiring at the rim of the wheel, so to speak, while I intend to start at the center.”
“That wasn’t by design,” Martin admitted. “It was simply the way the businesses became available for purchase, and they were all the right businesses—the right structure, the right product—to fit my plan. I wasn’t going to pass up acquiring them, but that left me lacking the critical link, namely a steelworks of the capacity of Carmichael’s.”
Oliver studied Martin’s face. “You’re not going to let me have Carmichael Steelworks, are you?”
