Page 87 of The Time for Love
“Perhaps later, Calwell. We’ll ring.” With that, her grandmother grasped Charlie’s arm and swept on down the corridor toward the library.
Julia, Sophy, Oliver, and Martin followed in her wake, leaving Calwell dithering in the front hall.
On reaching the library, Charlie set the door swinging wide and ushered Sophy’s grandmother through. As the rest of them followed, with Charlie lingering to shut the door behind them, Edward, who was sitting in a wing chair by the fireplace and reading a book, without dragging his eyes from the page, murmured, “Hmm? What is it, Calwell?”
“Edward!” Her grandmother rapped her cane on the floor; the resulting sound ricocheted about the room.
Edward jerked and looked around, then shot to his feet. “Lady Bracknell! Cousin Julia.” His gaze wandered farther. “Sophy?” Confusion writ large in his face, Edward glanced at Martin and Oliver, then looked again and blinked, presumably recognizing them from their previous meeting at his club. Slowly, Edward returned his gaze to Sophy, his expression reflecting surprise and deepening confusion. “What’s this about?”
Determinedly, she walked forward, making for one of the two leather-covered sofas. “We have a matter we wish to discuss with you, Edward. And yes, all of us need to be here.”
“Indeed.” Her grandmother followed and sank onto the second sofa.
“Yes, of course.” Obviously entirely at sea, Edward looked from one to the other and weakly waved to the available chairs. “Always pleased to talk about…well, whatever you wish.”
He watched Martin and Oliver come forward and nodded rather warily. “Cynster. Coulter.”
Nodding back, Martin smiled reassuringly. “Carmichael. We meet again.”
As they all chose seats—Julia beside Sophy’s grandmother, Martin beside Sophy, and Charlie and Oliver in armchairs—Edward dithered, then nudged the chair he’d been occupying around to face them and slowly, uncertainly, sank into it again.
Sophy leveled her gaze on Edward. “We’ve had several rather disturbing incidents occur over recent weeks.” The others had agreed that she should be the one to commence the litany of all that had occurred. “At first, it was...” Matter-of-factly, she listed the accidents at the steelworks before moving on to Charlie’s unexpected involvement, then quickly—before Edward could distract himself by commenting on his younger brother’s profligacy—she continued with a step-by-step account of her and Martin’s kidnapping, subsequent escape, and retreat to her grandmother’s house.
As per their plan, she deliberately omitted their visit to Brumidge’s chambers and what they’d learned there, merely mentioning in passing the documents she and Charlie had been pressed to sign.
“After discussing our options at length,” she concluded, “we decided to involve the police.”
“The police?” Edward looked scandalized. He glanced at Martin and Oliver, then at Sophy’s grandmother and Julia. “I say, is that wise? I mean…one doesn’t want it bruited about that one might have reason to involve the constabulary.”
“In this case,” Martin stated, and his tone did not invite argument, “it was our most direct option through which to learn the mystery man’s name.” He briefly described the police’s assistance and who they had interviewed, ending with, “We came away with the clear understanding that the man behind the accidents at the steelworks, the attempt to involve Charlie in those crimes, Sophy’s and my kidnapping, and ultimately and most importantly, the efforts to get Charlie and Sophy to sign those documents is a villain so feared by the senior local underworld figures that they will not utter his name, even when the alternative is the hangman’s noose.”
Edward frowned. “He sounds a most unsavory character.”
Martin dipped his head in agreement. “The other piece of information we gleaned from those interviews was a reasonably sound description of the man involved.” He caught and held Edward’s gaze. “To whit, the man looks to be in his fifties and has a hard-featured, craggy, rough-hewn face and cold, pale-green eyes. He speaks and dresses well, indeed, as a gentleman. He has silver-gray hair, well-tended and pomaded.”
Edward’s frown started to fade.
Martin continued, “The one identifying feature that was universally noted by everyone who saw him was the style and quality of his black overcoat.”
Edward’s expression leached to blankness. He stared unseeing at Martin, then swallowed, refocused, and weakly repeated, “Black overcoat?”
Martin nodded. “Just like that worn by the man seen talking in friendly fashion with you in the Iron and Steel Club. The same man Charlie saw being entertained by you here, in this very room.”
Edward stared, patently stunned and not wanting to believe. “No.” He shook his head. “It can’t be he.”
Martin studied Edward for a second, then calmly stated, “One other fact you need to know is that those documents that, under this man’s orders, Charlie and Sophy were pressured to sign, if signed, would have transferred the voting rights of Charlie’s and Sophy’s shares in Carmichael Steelworks to the remaining shareholder. We’ve had a solicitor check over those documents, and if Sophy and Charlie had signed, you, Edward, would have gained effective, complete, and unchallengeable control of Carmichael Steelworks.”
“What?” His expression a roiling mix of astonishment, confusion, and disbelief, Edward shook his head. “That makes no sense.” He looked at Sophy. “You know I’ve never had any interest in managing the steelworks.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know.” She gestured at the others. “We all know that. That’s why we’re here, trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Martin continued, “Even if Sophy and Charlie challenged the documents and tried to have them reversed, it would likely take years of going through the courts, and even then, who knows what would have happened?”
Edward continued to shake his head, but now in the manner of someone appalled. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone—this man as you say—do such a thing?”
“That,” Oliver said, “is what we need to work out, and as it’s you he’s seeking to involve in his scheme, we’re here to learn what you know of it and him.”
Edward stared at Oliver, then sought refuge in prim starchiness. “Mr. Coulter.” Edward glanced at Martin. “And Mr. Cynster. I know you’re both interested in investing in this town, but I confess I fail to understand why you are here, embroiled in what seems to be private family business.”
