Page 51 of Inventing Vivian

“If people are healthy, they are more able to work, Father,” Benedict said, his sense of injustice rising further. “Even the horses that pull the delivery carriages receive that much care.”

“Preventing the spread of disease is an easy enough matter, Your Grace.” Mr. Thomas shot a look at Benedict, warning him to stop angering the duke. “A bout of cholera or dysentery has been known to shut down factory production completely.”

The duke nodded thoughtfully. “We’ve had to contend with influenza every winter. Perhaps a doctor is not such a terrible idea after all.” He held up a finger. “But the orders for improvements...”

“The machinery is old, and the buildings themselves need repair,” Mr. Thomas said.

The duke scowled. “No doubt the American furniture company hung lace curtains in the factory windows and gave the employees tea cakes at the end of the day.”

“Nothing that drastic, I assure you, Your Grace. Modern machines work faster and more efficiently. Building repairs increase the value of the property. And we believe the improved conditions will enhance morale,” Mr. Thomas said. “We hope the people will work harder in the safer, more modern surroundings.”

“They will work harder because if they don’t, they will be replaced,” the duke said. “Such has always been the case.”

“With all due respect, Father, that is the attitude I hope to change. I want the employees to feel like we care, that they matter.”

The duke snorted. “Utter rot. When did you become such a sentimental fool? These ideas... doctors, increased wages... they are really beyond the pale, Benedict.”

“Father.” Benedict spoke through clenched teeth. “If things had been managed better in the first place—”

“I suggest a trial period,” Mr. Thomas cut in.

Both the duke and Benedict looked at him, surprised at his audacity in interrupting.

But the man of business continued speaking. “If you would, Your Grace, allow Lord Covington to implement his changes, and if there is no improvement in the quality of production as well as in earnings, then he will consider it a failed venture and return wages to the current rate.”

“How long are you suggesting this trial period last?” the duke asked.

Benedict could not believe his father was actually considering it. He looked at Mr. Thomas.

“Two years?” Mr. Thomas suggested.

“Two months,” the duke countered.

“It will take longer for the changes to be measurable, Your Grace,” Mr. Thomas said. “Perhaps one year?”

The duke stroked his mustache with the side of his finger again. After a moment, he nodded. “One year.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Mr. Thomas caught Benedict’s gaze as he tightened his eyes the slightest bit, and he inclined his head toward the duke in a gesture Benedict understood meant that he was to thank his father. The man really was taking liberties.

“Thank you, Father,” Benedict muttered.

“And how goes the other matter?” the duke asked. His tone made Benedict’s stomach tight. He knew exactly to what his father referred and had hoped the man wouldn’t bring up the topic again, especially when they were not speaking privately. “Have you set your sights upon any young lady in particular?”

Benedict thought immediately of Miss Kirby. “I am still working on it, sir. But things are... developing.” His neck heated, and he did not look at either of the men. He had not given more than a fleeting thought to courting Miss Kirby, but now that he considered it, the idea was very agreeable.

“Good,” the duke said. “You must have an heir, and soon.” He slid Mr. Thomas’s paper back across the desk with a flick of his fingers. “And once you have a family of your own to provide for, you’ll be less inclined to squander your funds on charity projects.”

Benedict opened his mouth to retort, but Mr. Thomas cleared his throat. “Very wise words, Your Grace.” He gave the slightest shake of his head, telling Benedict to remain silent.

Benedict felt foolish allowing his emotions to get the better of him. He could easily have lost the very battle he’d come here to fight. He tamped down his anger and sense of social justice and changed the subject, asking about a hunting trip his father planned to take once Parliament adjourned.

A few moments later, after making their farewells, the two men again stood on the paving stones before the duke’s house.

Benedict let out a heavy sigh, relieved the ordeal was finished.

“I apologize, my lord,” Mr. Thomas said. “I should not have been so presumptuous. I did not mean to—”

Benedict held up a hand, stopping his words. “Sir, your actions were exactly correct. If it had been me alone, I’d have allowed my emotions to take over and ruined everything we’d hoped to accomplish.” He motioned to where the carriage awaited, and they started toward it. “You kept a cool head when I could not.”

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