But he could do nothing about Sarah, indeed, he couldn’t even reveal his true identity to her, until he resolved the matter of Lady Cordelia. Sarah’s employer, cousin, and dear friend.
“This is so delicious,” Ursula murmured.
“Did you say something?” Daisy aimed a sharp look at her sister.
“No, no, not me.” Ursula smiled innocently. “Not a word. Nothing at all.”
“In fact what, Daniel?” his father asked.
“In fact.” Daniel chose his words carefully. “Right now, I’m not entirely certain how I feel about Sarah—Miss Palmer. But I would like the opportunity to find out.”
“And you can’t until the question of Lady Cordelia is laid to rest. I see. It’s my fault you’re in the position you’re in and I wish…” He shrugged in a helpless manner. “To be perfectly honest, Daniel, I need this transaction almost as much as Marsham does.” He paused for a long moment. “As do you.”
“What I need is the freedom to choose my own wife when and if I wish for a wife and not to be shackled to a female as part of a business deal.”
“It does sound bad when you put it that way,” Ursula murmured.
“You may need that shackling,” Father said under his breath, then met Daniel’s gaze. “I was glad to see you here today, son, for more than the obvious reasons. I was going to send you a note requesting a meeting.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
His father studied him carefully. “I received a letter this morning from a business associate in New York. He had some disturbing information concerning your plans.”
“My plans?” a finger of unease teased Daniel’s stomach. “What do you mean my plans?”
“Your railroads.” His father leaned toward him and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “I know that in additions to the railroads you own outright or have controlling interest in, you currently have tentative agreements to purchase three more. There may be a challenge in the wind to those transactions.”
“What?” Daniel shook his head. “That’s impossible. Those agreements are ironclad.”
“No agreement is ironclad when enough money is on the table.”
The full impact of what the older man said hit him with a physical force, and he stared at his father. The railroads in question had been chosen after long study and consideration of specific factors including location and potential. Each fit into his and Warren’s overall design with the precision of a puzzle. When they had begun, adjustments could be made but now the loss of even one, let alone three, would spell disaster.
“Without those railroads”—Daniel chose his words with care—“it all falls apart. Warren and I will lose everything, our futures as well as my money and the money of friends who have put their faith in me.”
“You need a great deal of money and you need it quickly, at least within the next few months.” A grim note sounded in his father’s voice. “You should plan on returning home as well. Within the month I would say.”
“Father.” Daniel met his father’s gaze. Damnation this was hard. “I believe I need another favor.”
His father shook his head. “I wish I could assist you but most of my uncommitted funding is tied up in this deal with Lord Marsham. Once that is finalized, I will have the money available and be more than willing to help. But that will take as long as half a year.”
“Unfortunately, that does not solve my current problem.” His father hadn’t mentioned specific figures but Daniel had a good idea of how much he would need.
“In spite of her father’s financial problems, Lady Cordelia has a substantial dowry set aside and the man she marries receives a significant inheritance immediately upon her marriage as well,” the elder Sinclair said in an offhand manner.
Daisy gasped. “Harold.”
Daniel braced himself. “How significant?”
“Extremely, according to her father. It can be signed over to you, the moment the vows are said.”
“Harold.” Daisy glared at her husband. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging the boy to marry this woman for her money.”
“There are worse reasons,” Ursula said mildly.
“I’m encouraging the boy to do what he needs to do,” Father said firmly. “And it was the lady’s father who offered this bit of incentive in the first place. A carrot as it were. It comes from a great aunt, I believe. I’m not sure even the lady herself is aware of it.” He then turned to Daniel. “But didn’t you say Lord Marsham will leave the decision as to whether or not she’ll marry you up to her?”
“I did and I’ve been trying to convince her, through Miss Palmer, that I am not the man for her.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Daniel!”
“How charmingly devious of you,” Ursula murmured.
“I tell you what I can do, Daniel. If Lady Cordelia refuses to marry you, I’ll do everything I can to make certain this deal goes through, but without the marriage I’m not sure that’s possible. Lord Marsham wants his daughter married and you’re apparently the best that’s come along.”
“Lucky me,” Daniel said under his breath.
“Although, by that time my assistance might be too late. Your most expedient move—”
“Would be to marry Lady Cordelia.” An awful sense of inevitability settled in the pit of Daniel’s stomach and with it, regret and an acute feeling of loss.
“What about Miss Palmer?” Daisy asked. “Surely she’ll be upset when she realizes you’ve been using her to manipulate Lady Cordelia?”
“I doubt that will be at the top of the list of things she’ll be angry about,” Daniel muttered.
Daisy studied her stepson. “Is there another problem then?”
“You could call it a problem.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “Miss Palmer thinks I’m somebody else.”
Ursula choked back a laugh. “This just gets better and better.”
His father stared at him. “Who does she think you are?”
Daniel grimaced. “Warren.”
“You mentioned him before. Who is Warren?” Daisy asked her husband.
“Warren Lewis. Daniel’s right-hand man. Brilliant young man. I would give a great deal to have him working for me.” He looked at his son. “Why does Miss Palmer think you’re Warren?”
“It’s a long story,” Daniel warned.
“We have time,” Ursula said brightly.
Her sister narrowed her eyes. “You promised to be quiet.”
“I know but I can’t seem to help myself.” Ursula raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. Laughter sparkled in her eyes. “This is so much better than opera.”
A journal is an excellent accompaniment for any traveler to record one’s thoughts and impressions as they occur. It is a pity to attempt to recall those memories upon returning home only to find they have faded.
An English Lady’s Traveling Companion
Chapter 9
A few hours after her return home, Cordelia paced the hall outside the library door. It had taken her this long to marshal her courage.
The train ride to London had been uneventful if overly hot. Father had occupied his time with a newspaper, Sarah had read her favorite poetry, a book she never traveled without, and Cordelia had worked on a recollection of the bazaars of Cairo. Although her mind had been anywhere but on merchants sitting cross-legged surrounded by their goods, or water carriers bearing freshly filled goatskins.
She had to speak to her father before she confessed to Warren or at last met Daniel Sinclair. Father had been altogether too vague about the repercussions of her decision as to whether or not she would marry Mr. Sinclair. She wanted—no, needed—to know in no uncertain terms exactly how important this business proposal was to her family. And exactly how dire the consequences would be if she did not agree to the marriage. Regardless of Father’s assertion that the decision was up to her, her choice was entirely dependent on his answer.
Not that she had a choice. She’d never doub
ted her father’s love and the very fact that he’d put her in this position in the first place indicated the serious nature of the situation. Indeed, hadn’t she just been delaying the inevitable? If her family’s future depended on this marriage, she would face her fate—if not willingly then at least with a certain amount of courage. And she would put any thought of dark-eyed pirates out of her head.
She squared her shoulders, rapped sharply on the door, waited for her father’s response, then entered the library.
“Good evening, Father. Might I have a word with you?”
Father looked up from the papers before him on his desk. “Of course.”
Cordelia crossed the room to take her usual seat in the chair positioned in front of her father’s desk.
He waved for her to sit down. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”
“You were?” she said cautiously and settled herself in the chair.
“You’re here to discuss this arrangement of marriage, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, I am. How did you know?”
“I’ve been expecting it. Indeed, I’m surprised it has not come before now. You’ve been remarkably quiet on the subject since our first discussion.” He studied his daughter for a long moment. “I must admit I have wondered why although I did consider the possibility you were planning some form of escape.”
She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Me?”
“You,” he said firmly. “Why haven’t you hounded me on this subject?”
“Why?”
He nodded. “Why.”
“I’m not sure it would have done me any good. It seemed wiser to bide my time. However, I have been giving it a great deal of thought.” She drew a deep breath. “Father, I am not a child.”
“Yes, I think mention of that was made yesterday.”
“Before I make any decision I need to understand the true importance of this business arrangement.” She met her father’s gaze directly. “If it does not take place, what are the consequences?”
“I thought I made that clear.”
“Not entirely. I recall you saying something about a detrimental reversal of family income, which, quite frankly, Father, could mean anything from having to forgo new ball gowns to having to sell Marsham Hall.”
“Do you know anything about business?”
“No.” She paused. “But I am not stupid.”
Father smiled. “No, you’re not. Very well then. Allow me to start from the beginning.” He folded his hands on top of his desk and paused to pull his thoughts together. “The title of Earl of Marsham goes back nearly two centuries. When I was a young man I realized the way the aristocracy in this country had prospered for generations was coming to an end. Times were changing and we had to change with them if we were to survive. My father disagreed, of course, but then he was firmly mired in the past. He couldn’t imagine his world not remaining as it had always been.
“At any rate, I began investing in various enterprises. Some quite successful, others not as much. Eventually, I focused my efforts and funding on shipping, and it has proven profitable up to now. But once again, times are changing. Most of my fleet is wind driven, and while I think there will always be a place for sailing ships, I believe the future is in steam…”
For the next half an hour or so, Father discussed the intricacies and assorted aspects of wind versus steam: the need to carry fuel in the form of coal, the dependability of scheduling, the development of screw propellers to replace paddle wheels, the sheer weight of steam engines and the accompanying stress on wooden ships, and any number of other concerns. The issues Father detailed were complicated but understandable. By the time he had finished Cordelia had an acceptable grasp of the problems he faced and why merging his interests with the elder Mr. Sinclair was not merely an excellent idea but, in many ways, a salvation.
“Even the offers made by your sisters, and most appreciated I might add—”
“By both of us,” Cordelia murmured.
“Would provide, at best, a temporary solution. However, Mr. Sinclair has the vast resources to provide for modernization I do not.”
“I see,” Cordelia said slowly. “So if this transaction is contingent upon this marriage, there really is no choice.”
“I would not take that choice away from you, Cordelia. It is, as it must be, ultimately your decision.”
“Still…”
“Do understand, my dear girl, this is not easy for me either, which is precisely why I waited so long to tell you of this arrangement.” His tone was serious but a smile twinkled in his eye. “It’s difficult to barter off one’s favorite daughter like excess farm stock.”
She raised a delighted brow. “Am I your favorite?”
Father chuckled. “You always have been. I would ask, however, that you not let your sisters know.” He paused. “Beyond the benefits of a good marriage for you, Mr. Sinclair or any man would be lucky to have you. I consider you one of my greatest achievements.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Mother doesn’t. She doesn’t see anything but my failure to wed.”
“Your mother sees things from only a narrow, feminine point of view and in many ways, she’s living in the past. She measures a woman’s accomplishments by the prestige of her marriage.”
“And you?”
“I like the woman you’ve become. I quite enjoy reading your accounts of camel rides in the desert or balloon flights over Paris. I am extremely proud that you are my daughter. Unfortunately, however, the world is what it is and the opportunities for an unmarried woman in this day and age are limited.”
She sighed. “It’s not the least bit fair.”
“No, of course it isn’t, which doesn’t change a thing.” He chose his words with care. “Have you considered the effect of this marriage on your future?”
She grimaced. “I’ve thought of little else.”
“I fully understand the desire of a young woman to marry for affection, yet love has not come your way.” He considered her carefully. “Unless I’m mistaken?”
“No.” Warren’s devilish smile flashed through her mind. Not that she was in love with him. No, love would be sweet and serene and completely without doubt. Whenever she so much as thought of Warren her feelings were tumultuous and uncertain and not at all what love would surely be like. Worse, everything with Warren was predicated on a lie. No, what, if anything, they shared was certainly not love. She pushed him out of her thoughts, ignored the odd ache accompanying it, and smiled reluctantly. “You’re not mistaken.”
“Then let us be practical. You’ve said you do indeed wish to marry.”
She nodded.
“Therefore, in a practical sense, you need to marry well. You need a man who can, to be blunt, afford you. Daniel Sinclair is that man. He has the resources to pay for the travel you so dearly love. To pay as well for a good home and servants and fine clothes.”
“I do so love hats,” she said under her breath.
“And hats are surprisingly expensive.” He studied his daughter. “What would you do with your life if you don’t marry, Cordelia?”
“Ever, you mean?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know.” She thought for a moment. “I would continue my travels—”
“Which, even if we were to give up all hope of marriage and use the funds of your dowry, is still an expense I will not be able to afford indefinitely.”
“I would continue my writing—”
“Which might, one day, allow you to eek out a meager living. Writers do not make a great deal of money, my dear.”
“Pity.” She shook her head. “I suppose I could become a governess—”
Father bit back a grin. “Yes, I’ve seen how well you get along with your sister’s children.”
“There must be something wrong with me, Father.” Cordelia pulled her brows together. “While I do want children of my own, I don’t seem to like theirs all that much.”
He laughed. “I suspect y
ou will like yours when the time comes.”
“So I would not suit as a governess.” She thought for a moment. “I could become a companion like Sarah.”
“Not like Sarah,” Father said firmly. “Let us be honest, Cordelia. Sarah has the position of companion only to salvage her own pride. I admire the girl for not wanting to be fully dependent on us and I admit it is cheaper to pay her a salary than it is to underwrite her expenses as I do yours, but as companions go, I do not think she is as effective as someone you did not have entirely under your thumb.”
Heat washed up Cordelia’s face. “Father!”
He narrowed his eyes. “You disagree.”
She huffed. “Not entirely. It just sounds so calculating.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” He chuckled. “I daresay Sarah won’t be your companion for much longer at any rate.”
Cordelia stared. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing of significance.” Father waved off her comment. “Just an odd thought really. How goes your correspondence with Mr. Sinclair? Have you come to know him at all?”
Only that he is most annoying. Cordelia shrugged. “One can be so many things on paper, Father. I fear it’s not at all fair to judge him by his letters.” She drew a deep breath. “It’s probably time I met him in person.”
“Excellent.” Surprise sounded in Father’s voice. “When the rest of the family returns from Brighton, we shall have…” His brow furrowed, “A dinner perhaps. With his family and ours. Yes, your mother will like that. I suspect it would be better for you and Mr. Sinclair to meet in an atmosphere of cordiality rather than something more serious.”
She forced a smile. “That sounds lovely, Father.”
His gaze searched hers. “I am sorry that it has come to this, Cordelia. But I believe it’s the best course for all concerned.”
Secrets of a Proper Lady Page 15