Gabriel was pleased to find that he was the first to arrive although, of course, Elizabeth was already present, seated at the head of the table with a couple of tidy stacks of paper and a pen in front of her.
“Prepared as usual?” he asked as he entered the room, though he didn’t yet sit, but leaned against the doorjamb to watch her.
She jumped slightly when he spoke, as he had clearly taken her off guard.
“Of course,” she said easily, hiding her momentary relapse of the wall of protectiveness with which she surrounded herself. “And you are early.”
“Though it seems I could never be quite as early as you,” he said, entering now, walking around the table to the chairs that were across from her, at what would become the back of the room. He always preferred to remain behind everyone else, so that he may observe the behavior of the rest of them before he came to his own opinions—or, at the very least, made them known.
She said nothing but simply returned to reviewing the paper in front of her. As silently as he could, he rounded the table so that he could peer over her shoulder.
“I see you’ve made an agenda.”
While she had jumped rather high before, Elizabeth nearly flew from her seat now—her head came up, crashing into Gabriel’s face. His eyes were instantly blinded by tears and a sudden shock of pain, and then he felt the filling of his nose the moment before it began to drip blood.
“My goodness!” Elizabeth said, coming to her feet completely now as she looked around desperately for something with which to help him. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, but you startled me. I had no idea you were there—”
He waved away her words as he held his nose in one hand, rifling through his pockets in search of his handkerchief with the other. Seeing what he was doing, she reached into his pocket for him, finding the beautifully starched white linen and holding it to his face, where it was instantly stained.
It was at that moment that the first partner arrived, stopping in the doorway with a stunned look on his face as he took in the scene in front of him.
“My word,” said Mr. Cartwright, a longtime acquaintance of the Clarke family. “Is everything all right, Lady Elizabeth?”
“Fine, fine,” she said, holding pressure on Gabriel’s nose until he finally succeeded in swatting her hand away, noting as he did so that a fine bead of perspiration had broken out on her forehead. “I might just step away for a moment to find some assistance. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”
She was out the door in a swish of black silk before either of them could say anything. Gabriel gingerly nodded at Cartwright as he felt the liquid beginning to lessen. It wasn’t long before Elizabeth sailed back into the room, her practiced smile fixed on her face, though Gabriel could tell she was slightly agitated. Clearly, this wasn’t how she had anticipated her first meeting to begin. She was accompanied by a footman, who quickly cleaned up any remaining mess. Unfortunately, no one could do anything to help Gabriel himself. His immaculate cravat was now stained with drops of red blood, though thankfully he had worn a black jacket over his waistcoat which hid any blemish. Gabriel sighed. This was undoubtedly not the impression he had hoped to make, and Baxter certainly would not be pleased with him.
“Thank you, Giles,” Gabriel heard Elizabeth say to the footman as he took his seat at the back of the room. The remainder of the partners soon began to filter in and he greeted them as they arrived, most of them well known to him. They all looked at him with slight confusion, and he was well aware why—he wasn’t sure anyone had ever seen him quite so disheveled, in addition to the fact that he rarely attended partners’ meetings unless there was a matter upon which he needed to vote.
“Hello, everyone,” Elizabeth said, standing at the head of the table as she looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each of the six men. “Thank you for coming on rather short notice. Upon the passing of my grandfather, I thought it pertinent that we meet as soon as possible to ensure the continuity of the management of the bank. Unfortunately, Mr. Mortimer is unable to join us today due to his ill health.”
One of the other gentlemen seated around the table leaned forward with a finger in the air.
“Ah, excuse me, Lady Elizabeth, but I must ask. Are you planning on actively working within your role as the senior partner?”
She looked at him for a moment as though she were confused.
“Well, yes, Mr. Lang. That is why I am here, leading this meeting.”
“And how would you know what to do?”
He bestowed upon her a kindly grin, one that Gabriel was sure he meant to use in order to soften his words, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to Elizabeth.
“Unlike my grandfather, Mr. Lang, who had to discover for himself how to both build and manage a bank, I had the opportunity to learn directly from his experience. I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent within the walls of this building. I believe he named me his successor in order to ensure that the legacy of this bank remains consistent, and I intend to uphold the trust he bestowed within me.”
Her words were matter-of-fact, strong, and yet still respectful. Gabriel admired her manner—though, he always had.
“But, Lady Elizabeth,” said another man, a young baronet, “Do you not have other commitments to which you must attend?”
“Do you mean accepting callers in my drawing room, Sir Gray?”
The man looked slightly chastened. “I would be referring to various social events that a woman such as yourself would be expected to attend.”
“I can assure you, Sir Gray, that nothing is currently more important to me than this bank.”
Which was exactly why many men would shy away from Elizabeth. Gabriel was sure that once she had committed herself to something such as this, it would remain her top priority. Where would a husband fit into that?
Not his business, he reminded himself. Though this meeting, this bank, certainly was.
The meeting continued on in this way for a time—partners politely questioning Elizabeth and her upcoming commitment to the role, how she would handle various aspects of the business. She answered it all with polite grace.
“Now,” she said finally, “I do not want to take too much of your day today, but there is one last matter which we must discuss. I previously mentioned Mr. Mortimer’s illness. Unfortunately, his health is failing, and he has decided that he is going to give up his share in the bank. As much as we will miss him and his wisdom, I’m sure we all understand his decision. He has not yet named a successor, but I anticipate him doing so very soon. If not, he will forfeit his shares, and we will determine whether the remainder of the partners will absorb them, or if we will choose to name another in his place. In the meantime—”
Her words stopped suddenly as the door swung open, admitting a familiar figure, who stood looking at them with a smug smile on his face.
Henry Clarke.
Chapter Nine
“Hello, Cousin,” he said, entering the room and taking one of the free seats at the table before looking around at the rest of the partners. “Gentlemen.”
“Henry,” Elizabeth said with a tight smile, for the benefit of the rest of them assembled around the room. In actuality, she would prefer to fling herself across the table and bodily push her cousin from the room. “While it is always a pleasure, I must ask you to wait outside until our meeting is concluded. This is for partners only.”
“Ah, yes, I am well aware of the fact,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “Meet your newest partner.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as he slid a piece of paper across the table.
“You will find there, Cousin, that John Mortimer has signed his share over to me, Henry Clarke. I must tell you just how pleased I am to be here. Now, what have I missed?”
Elizabeth read the short note three times. It was as he said, though she wondered at the note’s legitimacy. She was also unsure of how advanced Mr. Mortimer’s illness had progressed, and whether he had the full capacity t
o make such a decision. Knowing Henry, she had a feeling that perhaps the man had been coerced. It sickened her, but there was nothing she could do about it at this moment.
“I do not believe we can accept this as fact, Henry, until we have heard from Mr. Mortimer himself. This is a document, but not a legal document. We require that or his very presence to provide us with this information. Is that not right, Mr. Bates?”
She looked to the bank’s manager, who sat on the outskirts of the room as an observer, and he nodded.
“Come, Elizabeth, that is not very charitable of you, seeing how sick Mr. Mortimer is,” Henry said, tilting his head as though he were the benevolent, gracious one when clearly he had taken full advantage of Mr. Mortimer’s illness. In fact, Elizabeth was aware that poor Mr. Mortimer was suffering a malady of the brain, one that had left him devoid of most memories, be they more current or in the distant past. His family, however, was not particularly inclined to share such information, and Elizabeth would never betray their confidence. How she was to prove Henry’s manipulation, she had no idea, but she certainly couldn’t do it while entertaining this table of partners.
“I suggest we conclude for today,” Elizabeth finally said. “Also, please remember,” she shot a pointed gaze at Henry, “That as senior partner, I maintain final approval on the naming of all new partners.”
She could tell some of the partners were slightly uneasy at this information, as they shifted in their chairs, for they were aware that she not only held the power to name partners but remove them as well. Regardless of their discomfort, however, she knew she must not relent.
“Now, it was wonderful to see you all, I wish you good day, and look forward to working with you in the future.”
And with that they were soon gone, filtering slowly out of the room, with but a couple of exceptions—Henry, and Gabriel. Elizabeth sighed. Two men she no longer had any desire to verbally parry with. She was tired and wished to retreat to her office—alone—before going home for some well-deserved rest.
“I do hope you are not threatening me, dear Cousin,” Henry said as he rose from the table, leaning forward against it with his fists on its surface. “You should be welcoming me to the bank—it is a family affair, is it not?”
“Grandpapa had every opportunity to name you a partner, or to leave the bank to you, Henry, and he chose not to,” she said, rising herself so that she was nearly as tall as he was. “What do you suppose that says about his faith in you?”
“So you played the part of the perfect little princess every time you saw him,” Henry responded with a sneer. “You played it well, and look what you have for yourself. But it won’t last. This is a man’s world, Elizabeth, and not one where you belong.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but another voice interrupted.
“Upon her conduct throughout this meeting, I would say that she belongs very well indeed,” came Gabriel’s deep, smooth voice from the corner of the room. In the last few moments, Elizabeth had almost forgotten that he was there, so silent he had been while Henry had taken all of her focus. Gabriel had likely been the one partner who had not questioned her throughout the meeting. She had watched him, as much as she tried not to. He had sat back, his fingers steepled under his chin, his blue eyes shrewd as he listened to her as well as others around the table.
“Ah, the Duke of Clarence,” Henry said, turning to look at him. “What an interesting statement, coming from you.”
The way he looked at Gabriel, Elizabeth felt there was something unspoken behind his words, though she had no idea what that could be. “I do remember a time when you would have been her savior. Though not only Elizabeth’s but plenty of other women’s as well, am I not correct?”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened, and Elizabeth couldn’t stop the memories from rushing into her own mind.
“That’s enough, Clarke.”
But Gabriel’s words of warning certainly weren’t enough to stop Henry, a man who had no respect for the nobility—nor most people in particular, if Elizabeth thought on it.
“In fact,” Henry continued conspiratorially, “I would be interested to learn more about what happened with the lovely Lady Julia—Elizabeth’s good friend, of course. You pursued her in Newmarket, did you not? It was quite the scandal when she chose a groom over the Duke of Clarence.”
“I believe Eddie Francis is actually a jockey, Clarke,” was all Gabriel said, but Elizabeth noted that his entire body had turned rather stiff, as though he were holding himself back. Henry was goading him on purpose, of course, and while Elizabeth wanted to shove Henry’s words aside, she had to admit that some of them were getting through to her. For as much as Henry was being an idiot, he had reminded her of all Gabriel had done to attempt to court Julia, one of her closest of friends, but a few months ago with Elizabeth looking on. Elizabeth had thought it was all some game to him, but why he might care any longer about what she may think or feel, she had no idea.
“Julia is very happy,” Elizabeth said simply. “And that is all that matters. Now, Henry, it is time for you to leave, or I will have some of the footmen come and escort you out.”
“No need, I have another engagement,” he said, making his way to the door. “But rest assured, Cousin, this is not the last time you will see me within the walls of this bank.”
With one last sly smile and an exaggerated bow, he was out the door, pulling it closed behind him.
Elizabeth all but collapsed in a chair, exhaustion filtering out of her, when suddenly she remembered Gabriel was still there.
“Enjoy the show?” she asked.
“It was no show,” he said, and she looked up to see that his eyes were bright and clear, with no hint of any game on his face. “I was serious in what I said. You did well today.”
“Thank you for your approval,” she said, unable to help the sarcasm in her tone. She was annoyed by the reminder of Newmarket, and she couldn’t rid the thought from her mind.
“You’re upset about Lady Julia,” Gabriel said, as perceptive as ever.
“Not at all,” she said, attempting nonchalance. “There is nothing to be upset about, is there?”
“I am happy to explain the situation,” he offered, but she shook her head, not wanting to hear any more.
“There is nothing to explain,” she said. “In all honesty I am simply tired and have been longing to go home since halfway through that meeting—or shall I say, interrogation.”
“You responded well,” he complimented her once more, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering what his current angle was—for Gabriel always had an angle, in everything he did. “What?” he asked at her look. “You did. I am only telling the truth.”
He looked so handsome, standing there in the late afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the window, his typically immaculate hair ever so slightly mussed, by she herself when she had attempted to stem the flow of blood from his nose, that she nearly forgot everything in the past and approached him as a woman would a man she had a deep connection with.
His cravat was slightly crooked now, and hesitantly, she couldn’t help herself from stepping up and ever so slightly straightening it. He caught her fingers in his warm, strong hands, clutching them to his chest as he looked down at her and her breath caught in her throat.
His lips were a breath away from her forehead as he tilted his head down toward her, and she could practically feel his pulse where his hands touched hers. Not wanting to stain them with ink, she had removed her gloves in order to take notes during the meeting, and now she was, at this moment, glad she had done so, for the feel of his bare skin upon hers was exquisite.
She closed her eyes as a flood of feeling coursed through her—the attraction that had instantly bound her to him, that she had fought even when she hated him so; and the way he made her feel, as though she were the only woman in the world that mattered, that he would always be there to make everything right.
His prominent, patrician nose brushed against hers, an
d then under a will of its own, her head tilted up and her lips met his. The first taste was soft, hesitant, a reminder of who they were and all that had been before, and then once they found one another again, their lips fused together, locked on one another as though it was where they were always supposed to be.
Elizabeth hated him for weakening her like this, for making her forget all resolve and submit to him once more, but in the same breath, this was all she had been longing for since they had parted ways five years ago, despite her denial even to herself. He was the one man who had matched her perfectly, was the reason that no one else she had met since him had ever seemed to suffice.
Gabriel’s right hand left hers, coming around to the back of her head, cupping it as he held her against him in such a possessive manner.
Which caused another image to suddenly fill her head. One of Gabriel and another woman—a widow his elder by ten years, if Elizabeth recalled correctly. She had happened upon them at a ball one evening, and he was holding the woman, Lady Pomfret, in the very same way he held her now.
It was more than enough to cause her to bring her hands up against his chest and push away from him as she stepped back out of his arms’ reach, listening to the sound of her own harsh breath coming hard and fast.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice just over a whisper, and it seemed as though the kiss had affected him nearly as much as it had she. Or perhaps it was an act, some game he was playing. He had always liked to manipulate, hadn’t he? Was this all to do with the bank, some sort of play for power?
“That was a mistake,” she said, willing her voice to be firm, to not betray the emotion turmoiling within her chest.
“I don’t think so,” he said, his smoky voice swirling about her, tempting her to come deeper into its depths.
“I know so,” she said resolutely, straightening as she willed her mind to take control of her emotions once more. “I see no reason why you and I cannot be friendly acquaintances, colleagues in this bank. Anything more than that will never be—not again.”
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