overlooked the mill floor on one side and the courtyard on the other. The elderly man behind the desk with red cheeks, a nose covered in broken veins and a full beard sprinkled with grey covering most of his lower face, hauled his bulk to his feet. ‘By gum, Miss Draycott. I weren’t expecting you! Not so soon after the meeting.’
If ever again, Charlie thought, searching the other man’s face for signs of guilt or disappointment. He looked genuine pleased to see them.
‘Come in, lass. What can I do for you? My word, young lady, don’t know when I’ve seen you looking more gradely.’
Bliss had that effect. She glowed with it. Charlie felt more than a little pride, though he kept his face completely expressionless as the mill owner turned to him with curiosity in his gaze. ‘I don’t think we’ve had t’pleasure, sir.’
‘Tonbridge,’ Charlie said. He put out a hand.
The older man’s eyes widened. ‘Mountford’s heir, if I’m not mistaken.’ Curiosity deepened in the muddy brown eyes.
‘Miss Draycott has done me the honour of accepting my offer,’ he said. Not a complete lie. The offer was merely not the one this man would expect.
He hoped. He was none too sure what the townspeople thought of Merry Draycott. He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of her himself.
‘By gum, lass,’ Broadoaks said, grinning. ‘Your grandfather would be in alt. My heartiest congratulations.’ He took Merry’s hand in his big rough one and patted it. Charlie had the urge to snatch it away, but held still. Finally the elderly merchant stuck out his hand to Charlie. ‘By thunder. A Mountford. Congratulations.’
Beneath the older man’s assessing gaze, Charlie felt a bit like a prize Arabian stallion. It wasn’t the first time he’d been accorded that kind of inspection, but usually it was the mothers who looked at him that way.
He managed a grim smile and shook the meaty paw. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Ah, you are a Mountford, all reet. By gum, a chip off the same block as your father.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’ll wager Chepstow is crowing from the rooftops about this.’
A cold weight settled in Charlie’s gut at the sound of the familiar name. He glanced at Merry.
She winced and shook her head.
Charlie’s bad feeling travelled up to his chest. ‘Chepstow?’
‘The earl. From over York way,’ Broadoaks said, oblivious to the chill sweeping the room. ‘The Purtefoy family are her ma’s family. Not pleased with the marriage they weren’t. Always was a thorn in your grandpa’s side, lass, the way they treated your poor ma. But you showed them.’
‘You are related to the Earl of Chepstow?’ Charlie asked, hearing the growl in his voice, the building anger, but didn’t care to hide it. The earl was a crony of his father’s. A man with political clout of his own. And Lady Allison’s father.
‘He’s my uncle,’ Merry said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Guilty.
Charlie’s anger rose from his chest to the skin at the back of his neck. Had she played him for some sort of dupe? The hart in one quadrant on the shield on her gatepost came from Chepstow’s coat of arms, he realised. The rest of it, some sort of puffery. Hell. Why hadn’t he recogised it?
Broadoaks’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘Something wrong, my lord?’
Charlie stared at him. Wrong? It couldn’t be worse.
Merry shot him a pleading look. ‘We can talk about this later, Tonbridge. We came to ask Mr Broadoaks a question.’
Charlie gave the old fellow a smile that said he was about to impart a secret. ‘If you’d keep the betrothal between us for now, we’d be grateful. The settlements are not yet final.’
‘Aye, certainly, my lord. Business comes first.’ He winked at Merry. ‘Make sure you drive a hard bargain, young lady. Do your grandpa proud.’
Merry blushed, as well she might, the sly little baggage.
Charlie took a deep breath, reining in his temper, tamping down the suspicion he’d been gulled from the first moment they met. If it wasn’t for the fact that there was no way she could have known he’d be travelling along that stretch of road two nights ago, he might have thought she’d planned the accident herself.
She couldn’t have known.
While some of the glow seemed to have gone out of Broadoaks’s smile, he waved expansive hands. ‘Even so, this news calls for a celebration. A glass of wine? Some brandy?’
Merry smiled. ‘Not this early in the day, Mr Broadoaks.’
Making the decisions again. Ruling the roost. Indicating he was under her thumb. Charlie gritted his teeth. ‘Perhaps another time. Our business is pressing.’ Not nearly as pressing as the words he had for Merry after this meeting. ‘Let me explain.’
Merry looked startled, no doubt surprised he had taken charge of the conversation.
The old man’s eyes sharpened. ‘Aye. Sit ye down, both of you. Tell me what service Benjamin Broadoaks has in his power.’
Charlie gave Merry a warning glance. ‘The matter of a home for women in need.’
Broadoaks’s face turned the colour of puce. His gaze swivelled to Merry. ‘Now then, lass. The matter was put to rest the day before yesterday.’
‘I think not,’ Charlie said. ‘You know as well as I, Miss Draycott has no intention of letting the matter die. The real question is how did you and the other mill owners plan to stop her if setting light to the house didn’t work?’
Broadoaks recoiled. His chair creaked in protest. He stared at Merry. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’
Merry bit her lip. ‘Someone put those men up to it.’ She looked at Charlie. ‘And now—’
‘Someone tampered with Miss Draycott’s carriage on her way back from her meeting with you and the other mill owners. She was lucky she wasn’t killed.’
Broadoaks lunged forwards, his beard stiff with indignation. ‘Now wait a minute, your lordship. I won’t say I like the idea of a flock of whores setting up shop in the middle of town as bold as brass, but it ain’t a matter to kill someone over. Nor did I have owt to do with t’fire. Were some of the lads from the Muddy Duck got fired up about t’women taking their work.’
‘They are not whores,’ Merry said. ‘Not any more. How will they ever get free of that life unless someone gives them a chance?’
‘Hmmph,’ Benjamin Broadoaks replied. ‘'Tis same old argument. We don’t want them here.’
‘Not quite the same,’ Charlie said, before Merry could speak again.
Broadoaks eyed him warily. ‘Now, young fellow, surely you see the right of this. Miss Draycott here has a soft heart, but we are men of the world. We know—’
‘The Durn estate will pay for the rebuilding of the house. The asylum will be named for the duchess. I will act as her agent in this matter and Miss Draycott will head up the Board of Directors.’
Merry’s look of gratitude was like a knife to the gut, because it was a bloody lie. He wanted to throttle her. He flashed her a charming smile. ‘That is all you want, isn’t it, my dear? ‘
From the way her face stiffened, he was pretty sure she heard the sarcasm in his voice.
Broadoaks didn’t seem to notice. He sank back in his chair with the look of a man about to be hung. ‘That puts the cat in with the pigeons.’
‘You have a problem with the plan, Mr Broadoaks?’ he asked quietly.
The old gentleman fought through his beard to tug at his shirt collar. ‘No, my lord. The wives won’t be