Page 30 of The Time for Love
Martin smiled entirely sincerely and shook his head. “It’s the perfect lynchpin for me and, therefore, has greater value to me than it could possibly have for you, at least at this time.”
Oliver grimaced. “There’s no benefit to me in forcing you to pay more than the business is worth. Luckily, I’m not restricted by any previous purchases. I can look for some other steelworks to start my steel portfolio.”
“True. And if you back off from Carmichael’s, I might be moved to help.”
Oliver grinned and held out his hand. “Deal. I want your research into steelworks for a start.”
Martin laughed and shook hands, and they rose. “Come up to my suite. My whiskey’s better than that available here. We can enjoy a dram and decide what’s next regarding the Carmichael situation.” Martin paused and arched a brow at Oliver. “Unless you’ve lost interest now that you’re no longer actively pursuing the business?”
“No. I haven’t lost interest.” Oliver fell in beside Martin, and they made their way from the dining room. “Not being set on buying the business frees me of considerations driven by that and, instead, allows me to indulge my curiosity, and I’m definitely curious about what’s going on.”
Martin led the way up the stairs. “It’s certainly not the sort of thing one would want happening to other businesses in other industrial spheres.”
“Exactly. And we both have several of those.”
On reaching Martin’s suite, they settled in the comfortable armchairs angled before the fireplace.
Roland—pleased to have something appropriate to his station to do—provided them with glasses of whiskey, then withdrew into the shadows.
Oliver sipped, then, startled, held up the glass to study the amber liquid. “This is very nice. What is it?”
“Glencrae Special Reserve.”
Oliver sipped again and closed his eyes in appreciation. “I didn’t know they produced a special reserve.”
Martin grinned, sipped, then said, “Only for family.”
Oliver looked at Martin, then Oliver’s expression cleared. “Ah yes. I had heard of the connection.” He looked at his glass. “A nice one to have.”
“Indeed.” After sipping again, Martin lowered his glass. “Putting together all we’ve learned about Sophy’s cousins, what are the chances one or the other is behind the accidents?”
Oliver cradled his glass. “We haven’t heard much about the younger one, Charlie, but from the sounds of it, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine him getting into serious debt.”
Martin nodded. “The sort that might make a man desperate. But if so, then how do the accidents benefit him?”
“Perhaps he’s being pressured to ruin the steelworks by some cent-per-cent.”
Martin frowned. “What interest would a cent-per-cent have in ruining a steelworks?”
Oliver grimaced. “Therein lies the rub. I can’t see the connection.”
They fell silent for several moments, each trying to find the right pieces to link together to form a believable motive. After getting nowhere with that, Martin pondered, then said, “If you think about it, when we asked about Edward and Charlie, we were looking for anything unusual.”
Oliver nodded. “Given their well-established disinterest in the steelworks, something that pointed to a change in their view of it.”
“Or their view of other things, meaning something that might have prodded them into acting against the family business. But the only thing odd that anyone mentioned was Edward’s unusual interaction with the hard-looking man. Could he—that man—be relevant?”
Oliver frowned, then shrugged. “Who’s to say? Unless we learn what they were talking so animatedly about, there’s nothing we can follow up. Ten to one, the man was some old acquaintance from Edward’s school days, passing through town.”
Martin dipped his head in acknowledgment. “That no one in the club knew who he was—that he was a stranger to them—fits that scenario.” He sighed. “We have to allow that Edward might have interests that lie beyond Sheffield, and perhaps the man was connected with that.”
Oliver humphed. After a moment of staring at his leather-shod toes, he said, “We learned a little about each of Sophy’s cousins, but nothing that gets us any further.”
“Sadly, no.” Martin drained his glass, waited while Oliver did the same, then met Oliver’s eyes. “That said, I’m not yet ready to strike either of them off our list of potential suspects.”
“No, indeed. Just because we haven’t found anything to suggest a motive doesn’t mean they don’t have one.”
“This ball Edward mentioned,” Martin said. “While I habitually avoid all social events possible, I rather think this is one charity ball it might be worth my while to attend.”
