A lady should know two things: how to make an entrance and when to make an exit.
—MISS PENCE
July 20, 1887
Leadville, Colorado
“Impossible. The investors cannot possibly be asking for more time.” Alex slammed his fist against the wall of the newly leased Leadville office of Hambly Mining Ltd., then turned to face Will Pembroke. “Negotiations are complete.”
Will shrugged. “I’ve no explanation for it. This morning things were fine. A half-hour ago this came.”
He handed Alex a telegram. Funding on hold until further notice.
“That’s it?” Alex demanded. “What does this mean?”
“It means that should you wish to go forward with your purchase of the Leadville properties, your funding options have now become limited.”
“Limited.”
Alex moved to the window to look down at Harrison Street, then lifted his gaze to the sky, where smoke from the smelting operations threatened to choke out the sun. For all the wealth that flowed from the Leadville mines, so did an equal or greater measure of ugliness. Even the stars were obscured on all but the rarest of nights by the smoke. The odds were that tonight, even with no moon, the comet he’d hoped to see would not be visible.
And yet an observatory was to be built here?
He’d considering bringing up the matter with Will or perhaps even with those who would build the observatory. As an astronomer in the employ of the royal offices at Greenwich, Alex had an obligation to bring up such concerns. But as a Hambly bent on shoring up his family’s crumbling fortune, to offer up anything but silence on the matter was unthinkable.
So he’d kept his opinions to himself, even as his conscience became harder to quiet.
“There are other ways to do this,” Will said, interrupting Alex’s thoughts. “Or we can abandon the deal altogether.”
Again, Alex’s conscience complained. Still, what he owed to his family took precedence.
“The deal’s already been done and the documents signed.” He crumpled the telegram and threw it. “All that remains is to write the check.”
Will said nothing.
“Yes, I know. From a bank account that has little in it.” Again the temptation to slam his fist against the wall beckoned. “They’re stalling. What do you make of it?”
“Could be any number of reasons for the delay,” Pembroke said. “Men with money tend to be skittish.”
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t know.”
The truth in that statement stung. Unlike these Americans he found himself surrounded by, he felt wealth was to be used but not flaunted. He was a Hambly from a long line of well-connected and regal Hamblys, and as such, money had rarely held any value beyond the fact that it kept the land in the family and prevented boredom or empty bellies.
Until he had to, Alex hadn’t given money or the lack of it any consideration.
“Look,” Will said, “You’re a man of means. At present, your means just happen to be on hold.”
“Until the investors come to their senses,” Alex said. “And depending on the reason for this delay …”
He couldn’t continue. The idea of walking away from a deal so close to being done was beyond consideration. As was failing.
“Or until your upcoming marriage to the lovely Miss Miller,” Will supplied.
A reminder Alex didn’t need. “I suppose.”
Will shifted positions to affect a casual pose. “Might I remind you that your wife’s father holds no small amount of influence in this state and beyond?”
“Miss Miller is not yet my wife,” Alex said. “And what assurance have I that the issue would be settled in a timely manner? My understanding is that Americans make a fuss and drag these things out for months. Why, I haven’t even met the woman I’m to share a name with, Will. Don’t you find that a bit odd?”
“Many things these Americans do strike me as odd.” Will grinned. “But what matters is that there is to be a marriage, Alex, likely by the end of next week, and with it a substantial deposit into your bank account.”
“Of course.”
“That should be in plenty of time to appease anyone looking to dip into the Hambly coffers.”
“And if it is not?”
“It must,” Will said. “And then you’re free to return to your work at Greenwich while your wife goes about the business of whatever it is wealthy American women do once they’ve been wed to a royal.” He joined Alex at the window. “Say, isn’t that Beck’s right-hand man there?”
Alex followed the direction of Will’s gaze and spied Hiram Nettles crossing the street toward them. A moment later, Nettles disappeared inside the building.
“Wonder who he’s come to see,” Will said.
A moment later, the door opened, and Alex turned to see Beck’s man standing in the entryway. “Guess that answers your question,” Alex said to Will. “Do come in, Mr. Nettles.”
“A moment of your time is all I need,” Nettles said. “Mr. Beck wishes a meeting with Viscount Hambly.”
He thrust an envelope toward Alex. When Will stepped between them to retrieve it, Nettles allowed it with a sigh.
“It appears our presence is requested on the evening train bound for Denver.” Pembroke met Alex’s stare. “Which leaves at a quarter to four.”
Alex reached for his watch, an action that never failed to bring thoughts of a certain green-eyed pickpocket. “It’s half past two already,” he said as he snapped the cover shut and replaced the watch in his vest pocket. “Surely Mr. Beck’s not so interested in seeing me that he’d require me to miss my dinner plans.”
Not that he had any.
“I assure you great concern has been given to your comfort, sir,” Nettles said. “Mr. Beck sent his rail car for the occasion, and his private chef will see to your evening meal. Elias makes a delicious mutton.”
“Mutton,” Pembroke echoed. “I always enjoy a delicious mutton.”
“What is the nature of this meeting, Mr. Nettles?” Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “And please do not expect me to believe you’re ignorant of the facts.”
“I believe it concerns a business proposition that Mr. Beck wishes to make.” Nettles shrugged. “He mentioned you would be likely to agree once you were told he could repair any delays in your current situation.”
“Any delays,” Pembroke echoed. “So Beck’s behind this.”
Nettles put on a look of complete confusion that was either genuine or extremely good acting. “The truth, sirs, is that this time all I know is what I’ve told you.” He paused. “I’m to let Mr. Beck know immediately whether the three of us are going to be on that train. He will want to see you as soon as you arrive. What say you?”
Beck appeared to be going to a lot of trouble for this mystery meeting. It might be worth seeing what he wanted. That Alex might catch a glimpse of Beck’s daughter was both a reason to say no and a cause to hurry.
“There’s certainly nothing keeping us here. Not today, at least. Yes, why not?” Alex said as he once again went to the window.
“Excellent,” Nettles said. “I’ll inform Mr. Beck. In the meantime, you’re welcome to board the rail car at your earliest convenience.”
When Nettles had gone, Will joined Alex at the window. “What do you figure this is about?”
“Could be anything.” Alex reached for his coat and hat. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“I’m still holding him responsible for our issues with the investors,” Pembroke said. “No matter how good the chef’s mutton is.”
While Pembroke declared the mutton quite tasty, Alex had no stomach for it. For any of it. Between the issue of the observatory and the irritation of marrying an American stranger for money, nothing from the kitchens of the Beck rail car could tempt him to eat. By the time the train reached Denver, Pembroke and Nettles appeared to be fast friends, while Alex had sat in sullen silence the entire trip.
Thus, his mood upon greeting Daniel Beck was not the best, though he was slightly less irritated than the first time he stepped inside an office owned by the man.
Of course, this time he wasn’t soaked to the bone and just released from a pair of handcuffs.
Unlike his Leadville office, the Denver headquarters of Beck Enterprises were palatial in size and grand in décor. The quality of artwork defied anything Alex had seen in the Louvre or the Tate, though he was unsure of the provenance of all but a few pieces.
“Welcome,” Mr. Beck said. “Forgive the lateness of the hour, but I’m sure you understand that some matters are far too important to delay.”
“About that—” Pembroke started.
“Mr. Nettles,” Beck interrupted, “would you and Mr. Pembroke excuse us? I’ve a private matter to discuss with the viscount.” He turned his attention to Will, who seemed perturbed. “I’m sure you understand, sir.”
To his credit, Pembroke looked to Alex for his answer. When Alex nodded, Will did the same. “Agree to nothing,” he said as he allowed Hiram Nettles to escort him out.
When the door shut behind the pair, Mr. Beck gestured to a chair then settled behind his desk. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“I was assured this was a matter of some urgency,” Alex said in response.
“And it is.” Mr. Beck paused to adjust his spectacles. “For you, that is.”
“You’ve received disappointing news.”
A statement, not a question. But did Mr. Beck refer to the situation with the investors or did he have information regarding Miss Miller and her father that had not yet reached Leadville?
Alex let his gaze fall from Beck to the contents of his desk. Papers and folders were stacked in neat piles on one corner of the marble top, and half a dozen books had been situated on the other. In between sat a humidor that likely held cigars of excellent quality. When Alex looked back at Mr. Beck, he found the man studying him.
“Why am I here, sir?” he asked Beck.
To Alex’s surprise, the older man grinned. “Well done, son,” he said. “I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to get right to the heart of the matter.” He paused. “I will do the same. I’ve a bargain to strike with you. A good one.”
His tone came across as a bit too patronizing for Alex’s liking. “And why would you wish to strike a bargain with me?”
Beck let out a long breath, then nodded. “I like you, Hambly. You and I, we take care of our own.” He waved away any possible response from Alex. “I’ll get right to the point.” He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a file, and set it on the desk between them. “Read it.”
With equal measures of curiosity and reluctance, Alex opened the file and began to read. Though his knowledge of contracts lacked in comparison to Pembroke’s, Alex could easily ascertain that this offer would not only fill the Hambly family coffers but also provide ample monies to replace the funding now on hold with the current investors.
He closed the file and set it back on the desk, then shook his head. “This is a generous proposition, Mr. Beck.”
“It is.”
Mr. Beck leaned back in his chair and gave Alex an appraising look. “My sources tell me your solicitor has not yet struck an agreement with the Miller family for Augusta’s hand.”
Alex’s first thought was to protest. While nothing had been signed, Pembroke had assured him the wedding date was set for next week. And yet Daniel Beck was no man to be trifled with.
“That is true,” Alex said. “At least not formally.”
“I can assure you that you won’t.” He paused just long enough to allow Alex to consider the implications. “However, I wish to offer a substitute. My daughter.”
“But, sir I couldn’t possibly—”
“Save your protests, Hambly,” Mr. Beck said. “Charlotte was no happier about this than you. However, she agreed, and I believe you will as well. You see, all I require from you is four years of engagement while Charlotte is at Wellesley and then a marriage upon her graduation.”
“A marriage?” It took a moment for the idea to register. “With me?”
“Yes, with you.” Again Beck waved away protest. “Lest you think I’ll leave my future son-in-law wanting for funds during the betrothal period, please consult the papers in front of you. Not only will you see that I’ll provide enough to satisfy your current needs, including paying those blasted inheritance taxes the queen’s so fond of, but I’ve also allowed for a generous allowance while you’re waiting to claim Charlotte as your bride.”
Most of this Alex heard from far away. The distance between the opposite side of the desk and the chair where he sat suddenly widened with the thought of spending the rest of his life with the green-eyed menace who possibly detested him.
The woman who found it perfectly acceptable to burn her corset, to best him in a race by cheating, and to ruin not only a year’s worth of research but also a perfectly good telescope.
The woman whose kisses still seared his mind and haunted his dreams.
“Hambly?”
At the sound of his name, Alex’s attention returned to Mr. Beck. “Yes, sorry.”
“I need an answer.”
Alex rose. “I’d like my solicitor to look these papers over before I sign them.”
Daniel Beck barely blinked, nor did his face give away what he might be thinking. “So you’re accepting the offer? Pending Mr. Pembroke’s review, that is.”
Alex swallowed hard and willed himself to say anything but yes. Unfortunately, that was the only word that would come out.
An hour later, as he left the offices of Beck Enterprises with Will happily chattering about celebrating beside him, all Alex could think about was that four years was a very long time.
Anything could happen.