A Scandalous Arrangement Read online

  The end of the month! Horace Catchpole was indeed ruthless. “I believe I could, Miss Wynne. Would three months be acceptable?”

  “It would. Thank you. There are workers’ cottages too, but they generate a rental income so I would advise that you allow them to remain with the mill.”

  “I see. Most astute, Miss Wynne.”

  “Do you agree to my proposal, Mr. Luke?”

  “I agree to consider it. I will be in touch as soon as I am able to let you know my decision.”

  “Mr. Luke, I do assure you…”

  He held up his hand. She fell silent. “I have said I will give your ideas some thought. That is all I am prepared to commit to at this stage, though there is one other thing I should add. Once the financial affairs are settled, any funds you have invested in Wynne’s will be returned to you, with interest. I will issue instructions to release the bank accounts back into your control in order that you can continue to conduct business until such time as the long-term arrangements are determined.”

  Miss Wynne offered him a sharp nod. “Thank you, Mr. Luke. I appreciate that. Very well, I will wait to hear from you. I thank you for your time this morning, and for your hospitality.”

  “You are welcome to the first, but as I was unaware of your presence here last night I cannot in good conscience claim responsibility for the other. Are you intending to return to Yorkshire immediately?” He would have enjoyed her company a little longer, he found.

  “Yes, I must take the first available train. My mother will have been concerned when I did not return home last night, though I know my clerk will have informed her of my whereabouts. Even so, she will worry.”

  “Of course.” He glanced up at his housekeeper, who had re-entered the room to start clearing away dirty crockery. “Mrs. Jennings, would you arrange for a hansom to convey Miss Wynne to Kings Cross station? And would you telegraph Mrs. Wynne in Yorkshire to assure her of her daughter’s safety and advise her to expect Miss Wynne home later this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I will do so at once. Are you ready to leave now, Miss Wynne?”

  The lady stood, and this time Adam took the opportunity to properly—or improperly—admire her slender form. She was tall, willowy he supposed, though her body hinted at curves in the places he liked to find them. His erection asserted itself again and he pondered the wisdom of rising to see her out. Good manners prevailed and he got to his feet.

  “It has been most pleasant to meet you, Miss Wynne, despite the difficult circumstances. I will be in touch.”

  He extended his hand, and she took it. Her fingers were cool to his touch, but her handshake was firm. A good businesswoman’s handshake. He believed he might do worse than to enter into a commercial relationship with the delightful Miss Wynne.

  Unfortunately, an arrangement of an entirely different nature was starting to take shape in his head. He needed to plan his next course of action with care if he was to have any hope of persuading her to consider his counterproposal.

  * * *

  It could have been worse. He might have dismissed my proposal out of hand.

  Victoria shifted on the narrow bench in the ladies’ waiting room at Kings Cross station. Her train was due in half an hour, and if the connections went as she hoped she would be home in ample time for supper. She should even have time to talk to her mother. This would not be a conversation she relished, but she was left with no alternative. Adam Luke’s concession on their period of notice bought them time, but the end result would be the same. They would be uprooted, forced to find somewhere else to live. Somewhere modest and affordable if she was to set enough aside to carry out her plan.

  There was nothing further she could do to secure the Wynne fortunes as she waited for her train, except reflect on the events of this morning.

  Adam Luke was so completely not what she had expected. She could not describe him as nice exactly, certainly not with his flirtatious, womanising ways. Share his bed indeed, the very thought.

  But that was her problem, was it not? She was thinking about it. A great deal more than she really ought. And she was also thinking about his hapless wife, buried in the backwaters of Portsmouth. Victoria pitied the wronged Mrs. Luke. It must be a grim existence indeed to be married to such an attractive man who was also such a faithless bastard. She wanted no part of adding to that lady’s troubles.

  Even so, the man was tempting. Exciting. Wicked.

  She seldom allowed herself the luxury of entertaining such thoughts. Her lifestyle since her father died had precluded romantic relationships entirely. She worked a fourteen-hour day, six days a week, and much of the rest of her time was devoted to eating and sleeping. Wynne’s left her with little opportunity to indulge in social frivolities and her only contacts were among the business community. The men she met were customers, suppliers, or competitors. She liked many of them, and respected a few, but no more than that. Lovers would be a different breed altogether, and she was unlikely to encounter such individuals.

  Or so she thought, until today. No wonder her unruly pussy still drooled, and her nipples tingled. They had little enough cause for such reactions as a general rule and had no doubt become over-eager. She had best not do likewise.

  She had almost swallowed her tonsils when he crept up on her unawares. How long had he been lurking there, watching her eat, before he made his presence known? And such an imposing presence too. She’d expected an older man, if she was honest. She estimated that Mr. Luke could not be a day over thirty-five, and handsome as the very devil. His dark blond hair had been neatly combed, but still over-long. It gave him a rakish air, she supposed. His eyes were green, a deep, emerald hue that had glinted like ice when he became stern, but softened as she explained her story.

  His expression when she made her ill-fated attempt to assert her rights had been glacial; she’d believed she might shrink and shrivel before his eyes. But he had warmed, melted a little. He had appeared surprised by her offer, but genuinely interested even so. He made no disparaging remarks about a woman seeking to infiltrate a man’s world; instead, he’d allowed her achievements and the figures to speak for themselves. She hadn’t even shown him her accounts and samples, but he had known anyway that she was to be taken seriously.

  At least, she hoped that was the impression she’d created. It had not been easy, what with her treacherous pussy clenching beneath her skirts, and her moist underwear causing her to shift in her seat. Victoria might well have been outraged, angry on behalf of Mrs. Luke, but she was not made of stone, and far from immune. She was still suffering the effects an hour later, hence her discomfort on the hard seat.

  He would be in touch. He had said so, and she believed him. She should have pressed him to tell her exactly when she might expect to hear from him, but she had been so relieved to get as far as she did that all else went out of her head. It was most unlike her to be so airheaded especially in matters of commerce. Unprecedented, in fact. Proof positive that Adam Luke was a man to be reckoned with.

  He had been fair, more than fair in the matter of her personal funds. And polite, if she did not dwell too long on those scurrilous suggestions regarding his bed. All in all though she had to conclude Adam Luke was a dangerous man, and an even more menacing adversary.

  Surely he would see the merit in her idea. He had to. He simply must.

  She picked up her bag and made her way to her platform. She’d had quite enough of London. Now, she just wanted to be at home.

  Chapter Four

  “So there you have it. I have tried to negotiate a solution for us, and I am hopeful that I may have succeeded, at least as far as the business is concerned. My plan is sound and I trust Mr. Luke will recognise it as such. He is an astute man.”

  “And a generous one. Compassionate too, by the sound of it.” Hester Wynne patted her daughter’s hand. “You did well to secure us those additional months in which to seek a new home. I will start looking for somewhere tomorrow.”


  “You do not mind? I know you love this house.” Victoria managed a tentative, hopeful smile.

  The interview had not gone as badly as she feared. In fact, it had not gone badly at all. Her mother had been shocked, dismayed even at Edward’s idiotic, destructive actions, but not a hint of blame had she attached to her daughter. Logic told Victoria that was quite correct, and to be expected. None of this debacle was of her making. Even so, she was the breadwinner in this family, she was the provider here. She felt responsible for her failure to ward off disaster.

  Yet here her mother was, offering her comfort, and sharing the burden of reorganising their lives. At once, Victoria felt like a small child again, dependent upon her mother’s love and care. And she found it here in their pretty sitting room, Hester’s domain usually but it had seemed the right place to impart news of such enormity. The older woman reached for Victoria to enfold her in her arms, and that was it.

  The dam burst.

  All the pent-up anger, strain, worry, and fear of the last couple of weeks emerged to engulf Victoria in a heaving, gulping fit of tears. She sobbed uncontrollably, for herself, for their home, for the lifestyle they had lost. She also wept for the joy of knowing that whatever happened to them, they remained wealthy in other ways. Their family was intact and they loved each other. They would take care of each other; she could rely on their support. And their love. Somehow she had lost sight of that. It was back in sharp focus now.

  Hester hugged her, patting her back, murmuring that she would be all right, they all would be. They would adjust.

  At last, Victoria calmed enough to raise her ravaged face from her mother’s lap. “Will you help me tell Georgina?”

  Her mother smiled at her and shook her head. “No, dear. You are to go upstairs and take a long bath. You must be exhausted from your journey and your efforts on our behalf. I will explain the circumstances to Georgina. I will also ask cook to delay supper by thirty minutes to allow you the time you need to rest and freshen up.”

  “But—”

  “No, Victoria. You’ve done enough for now. Let others help too. I can manage this. Georgina will understand.”

  * * *

  Georgina did indeed appear to understand as the family lingered over their evening meal, debating suitable neighbourhoods where reasonable but inexpensive lodgings might be secured. They would look for somewhere near the mill, perhaps even take one of the workers’ cottages should a property become vacant. The largest ones had two bedrooms, which they could manage if the two sisters shared. They would retain a maid if their means stretched to it, though she would not live in.

  “I could work too. Perhaps as a governess.” Georgina made the offer in good faith, though neither her sister nor her mother was inclined to seize upon the suggestion. The youngest Wynne was an artist by natural leaning, a talented one at that. She specialised in water colours. Georgina could perhaps offer private art lessons, should matters come to that. Meanwhile Victoria retained a healthy optimism that her proposal to Mr. Luke would be their salvation. She was relying on it.

  * * *

  The morning after her return from London, Victoria made her way to the mill as usual. She entered through her private door at the rear and ascended the steps to her office. She had no sooner seated herself behind her desk than Mr. Timmins appeared at her door. He did not knock, just entered and sat down opposite her.

  “So?” He did not stand on ceremony.

  Victoria did not expect him to. “So, it went well. I think.”

  “The mill is ours once more?”

  She did not correct his possessive pronoun. Mr. Timmins was as much engaged in this as the rest of her family were. “Not yet, though I hope to be able to rectify that situation in due course. I have made an offer to buy the mill back.”

  “I see. Are we in a position to identify sufficient funds for this?”

  “You know that we are not. I have offered to work for Mr. Luke, for a salary, and a share in the profits.” She went on to outline her proposition, and Mr. Luke’s reaction to it. She made no mention of his other, less formal suggestions to her regarding sleeping arrangements, nor her conflicted response to them.

  “Do you trust him? If he is to be your business partner, that will be essential.”

  “I find myself with little choice in the matter, but yes, I do trust him.” It was true, she did. This fact surprised her somewhat, but there it was. “He even said he would restore any personal funds I might have invested in the business, though I had not asked for that. It will be a considerable sum and may prove very useful in the coming months. I am thinking I might ask to take my money in shares, at least in part, once my family’s removal expenses are met.”

  Her clerk nodded, seemingly in full accord with her need to regain a hold, however slender, on the property she adored and considered rightly hers. “On a related subject, we have received word from the bank that our accounts are unfrozen. Mr. Norman offers his apologies for any inconvenience.”

  Victoria nodded, pleased at this further evidence in support of Adam Luke’s integrity. He had said it would be done, and it was.

  Mr. Timmins continued. “However, a courier from a firm of solicitors in Leeds arrived just as we were closing the mill yesterday. He had a letter of authority from that other chap, Catchpole, requiring us to hand over all our accounts and ledgers. I saw no alternative but to comply.”

  “Of course. Mr. Luke said he would wish to examine the books in the course of his deliberations. Meanwhile, we are to carry on as normal. Do you have details of that shipment of alpaca wool, please?”

  “It arrived the day before yesterday. I have our finest weavers working with it now. The results appear every bit as promising as you suspected, a very fine cloth indeed.”

  “Will I have samples for the Piece Hall exhibition next week?”

  “Oh, yes, I should think so. Several fine varieties of cloth to display.”

  The Halifax Piece Hall, though no longer just a venue for trading pieces of cloth, remained at the heart of the woollen trade in West Yorkshire. Victoria intended to present her latest alpaca yarns and cloth at a commercial fair, and expected to attract considerable interest. Orders should soon follow. Her plan for her future prosperity started here.

  * * *

  A week had gone by, and no word from Mr. Luke. Victoria contemplated writing to him to seek an update on the progress of his deliberations. Surely he had had sufficient time by now to peruse her accounts and order books, which would demonstrate the strength of her company. What more could he need? What was he waiting for?

  She persuaded herself that to hound Mr. Luke would be counterproductive. He had said he would be in touch, and she trusted him. Even so, the waiting was excruciating.

  Her mother’s attempts to identify a suitable new home for them had so far proved fruitless. Places they might afford were either too dingy, the neighbourhoods too seedy to offer even the most basic promise of safety for three women living alone, or in dire—and costly—need of repairs. Hester remained optimistic, but Victoria feared they would need to lower their sights, which already seemed to her quite depressed enough. Still, they had plenty of time. Something would come up.

  She reached for the pile of orders received just that morning. Her presentation of the new yarns in the Piece Hall had been a fabulous success and she found herself contemplating taking on temporary workers to complete the volume of orders.

  Business was booming. Perhaps that was enough to justify a further missive to Mr. Luke.

  “Mr. Timmins, do you have a moment?” She would seek her assistant’s view on the matter. He was usually a source of excellent counsel.

  “Mr. Timmins is occupied elsewhere, I fear. Will I do?” The deep, rich, and oh-so-familiar tone reached her from the door to her clerk’s adjoining office.

  Victoria’s head snapped up from her study of the latest order from Hathaway’s in Huddersfield. She gaped at the f
igure lounging before her, casual yet so elegant in his fine business suit. His hat was tucked under his arm, his cane in one hand and a leather briefcase in the other. His hair glowed in the sunlight streaking through her window, slightly tousled as though from a breeze. He treated her to a smile, quite dazzling really, as he stepped forward to deposit his belongings on her desk.

  “You appear surprised to see me, Miss Wynne. Did I not say I would be in touch?”

  “Yes, but… I expected… I thought to receive a letter, or a telegram perhaps. You did not say you would come in person.”

  Privately her heart soared. Surely he would not have made the journey just to turn down her offer. His presence here was a good sign, it must be.

  “Ah, but I needed to see the property for myself, inspect my latest acquisition.”

  His slightly mischievous smile suggested there may be more to his words, some ulterior meaning, but Victoria could not fathom that. She rose to greet him, offering her hand to shake.

  Mr. Luke took it, but she wondered if he lingered just a fraction too long before releasing it. She indicated the other seat in the room, the one normally commandeered by Mr. Timmins. “Please, sit down. May I offer you some refreshment after your journey? Have you come straight here from the station?”

  “Tea would be most welcome, if that is convenient. And yes, I prefer to press on with our discussions without delay, so I sought directions from the station master, then made my way here.”

  “Of course. Mr. Timmins…” She summoned her assistant, forgetting momentarily that he was ‘elsewhere.’

  The man appeared within seconds. “May I help you, Miss Wynne?”

  Victoria chose not to remark on the specifics of his whereabouts. Instead she requested a tray of tea, and perhaps some biscuits if any were to hand. Mr. Timmins nodded, offered a swift bow to Mr. Luke, whose presence seemed to come as no surprise to him, and scurried off.