The Baron agreed with Peggy’s thoughts, and he suggested that even having a base of supplies to stock the shelves might be enough to draw a merchant to the area. Part of what had been so off-putting to so many was the idea of starting from scratch. If Peggy were willing to even begin the process it was more than had been done in months, and several months into the future, they would be prepared to weather the cold in some comfort.
“I suppose we are in agreement then.” She laughed. “I never thought I would be saying this, but thank you for the opportunity, and I promise to do my best not to let you down.”
“Any progress for me is progress for you,” he chuckled in response. “And if I am to be perfectly honest, I probably would not notice whether you were the worst Mercer who ever lived until the bill came in at a loss. I suppose I shall have to trust you not to make a failure of my investment. Heaven knows Nora would never let me forget it.”
Peggy laughed. “Well then, you shall simply have to remind Nora that it was she that did the convincing.”
“You are correct, and she will probably take credit when the town has a boom.”
“There is one more thing…” Peggy hesitated, biting her lip as she wondered if she would be able to explain away this request. “When I send out for the purchases, I would prefer to leave my name out of it. If it could be done through your signature, I believe it would be better received, you being a gentleman and all.”
He seemed to accept her reasoning well enough, and she allowed herself a breath of relief that he asked no further questions about her request for anonymity. She had seen the wheels in his head turning often enough to know that he was probably curious about it, but he had too much foresight and etiquette to press the issue. The truth of the matter was that in order to make a successful go of this endeavor, Peggy would have to reach out to several men that had, in the past and probably still to this day, business dealings with her father. For all her father was aware, she was dead. The last thing that she needed was any suspicion to arise that she was still alive, and worse making use of her father’s training.
Oh, two small shops in the obscure north were no threat to her father’s holdings. There would be no competition. Peggy’s shops would be little more than a fly at the ear of a horse. An annoyance perhaps, but nothing that could not be stomped out if he set his mind to it. That was the real concern. If her father found out what she was doing, he might set a boycott to these two necessary, but remote, haberdasheries.
Or worse—she felt a chill run down her spine—he might come for her. Though many years had passed since she had been thrown out, her father was not one to accept a loss. She could fail and he would wash his hands of her. But if she were successful, he might attempt to stake his claim and use her for all she was worth. As always, a tool and nothing more.