She nodded, but her brow furrowed in concern. “We could talk in Papa’s office. It’s much more comfortable.”
She was right. Her office was little more than a cramped cell stuffed with more papers, contracts, and registers than it could hold comfortably. One solitary window at her back gave the room a watery light. “You should be working in his office while he recovers.” Like Max, working for the family business was August’s passion in life. Luckily, Evan respected that, and the couple had found a way for her to be a duchess and continue her duties at Crenshaw Iron.
“I’m more comfortable here. I don’t need a fancy room to make me feel as if I’m getting things accomplished,” she said.
“You need a bigger office. You’re a high-level manager at Crenshaw Iron. He still treats you like his personal secretary.”
“On some level I think he still believes that I am, but we all know the truth. I know that you and Papa clash on many issues in the day-to-day running of the company, but I’ve learned that it’s best to pick the battles I wish to fight very carefully. I don’t have any choice but to win them, so I have to save up my ammunition to make certain that I do. If it makes him feel better to have me in the smaller office next to him, then fine. It only helps me keep a better eye on him.” She grinned, and he couldn’t help but smile at the flash of defiance in her eyes. “Now, I’m certain we have more important issues to discuss than the size of this room.”
“Well said, little sister.” Leaning forward, he tapped the proposal for the Prince Albert Dock project lying on her desk. “I’ve been studying your work here. The statistics and projections are all sound. Even the least profitable scenario has a return of ten percent while still introducing the possibility for future contracts. I believe it’s a secure investment.”
“I hoped you might say that. I’ve run the numbers five different ways, and even with the depressed markets, I believe we can turn a profit.” She pulled out the additional pages from a drawer and set them out in front of him. Each one was a different scenario based on various market prices of ore and carbon. “The variable of course being that we cannot buy at once. We first have to secure a factory, and then we can sign a contract price, but even then our production is bottlenecked. No supplier will sign a contract with terms so loosely categorized. We don’t know how much we’ll need, because we don’t formally have a contract for work. And we have no warehouse space here like we do in New York and Pennsylvania to hold any excess until we can use it.”
“What if we could take that variable out of the equation?” he asked.
“How?”
“What about the supplier in Rotherham? Have you considered purchasing it?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course, but the owner refused to sell, and Papa wouldn’t agree to a higher price to prompt the sale—a decision I reluctantly agree with.”
“Have you considered a solution here in London?” When she frowned, he continued, “I had Tom make some inquiries. Apparently, your solicitor has a contact here who is looking to sell his metalworks, a Sir Phineas Penhurst. It comes with a significant warehouse space. It seems the owner is looking to sell the entire block.”
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere between Whitechapel and Limehouse. Close enough to the docks to make it interesting.”
“That is interesting. Do you know the details? What’s the price per square foot?”
“He was squirrelly on the details, but everything is negotiable. I’ve arranged a tour this afternoon if you’re up for it.”
They would need to move fast on the deal. From what Max understood, it would sell quickly, but that wasn’t the only reason. If Max could sink enough money into the deal, Papa wouldn’t be able to shut everything down when Max refused his ridiculous marriage ultimatum. He wouldn’t cost the business millions just to prove a point. Or would he? At one time Max had been very certain of who his parents were, but he wasn’t any longer.
“Today?” August was smiling as she shuffled through the papers for her appointment book underneath. “Possibly. Violet is supposed to come by for luncheon.”
“Did I hear my name?” As if she had been summoned by the word, their youngest sister swept into the room. She looked radiant. She had always been pretty, but there was a glow of happiness about her now that he’d never seen before. It was the primary reason Max hadn’t finished the beating he’d started on Christian when he’d found them together back in the spring. The earl’s reputation and the fact that he’d run off with Violet had meant Max hadn’t been pleased with their hasty marriage, but seeing her so content had him slowly warming up to Christian.
August quickly explained their plan to tour the factory as Max stood to kiss Violet on the cheek. He had missed her in the months since she had left home, and unlike August, whom he heard from regularly because they worked together, he didn’t have the same cause to communicate with her as often. Since he was eight years older, he sometimes forgot that she wasn’t the same adorable but irritating little girl who used to follow him around begging for rides on his shoulders.
“You should come with us, if you feel up to it,” he said, glancing down at her swollen belly. Her cape was covering all evidence of her pregnancy now, however. “We can eat afterward.”
“I’ll come, but only if we can eat first. I’m famished, and I’m sure I’ll be ready for an early tea after the tour.”
August laughed as she shrugged into her coat. “You’re always hungry.”
“It’s true. I don’t even care anymore about maintaining a semblance of civility when it comes to food.” Violet shrugged, drawing his eye to the sapphire broach she wore. It was the same exact shade as Helena’s eyes.
What a strange thought. Violet was the creative one in their family. The one given to sentimental descriptions. Several years ago, he had toured Italy with friends, and upon returning home Violet had asked him about Michelangelo’s David and how he had felt when he had seen it in the Palazzo della Signoria. He’d replied good to her everlasting disappointment. It wasn’t that he hadn’t felt the awe any person experienced when standing before such an example of human exceptionalism; it was that he lacked the skills to verbalize and examine the emotion to the depth she wanted. He still hadn’t learned, apparently, because the color on that broach made him feel things he couldn’t quite comprehend.
“Do you like it?” she asked, running her finger across the filigree setting. “It’s been in Christian’s family for a hundred years. He said it was so beautiful he couldn’t bear to sell it.”
“It looks old,” he said, making her roll her eyes at him.
“My driver is waiting.” She wrapped her arm around his and led them all out into the corridor. “Cook will have a fine luncheon ready. I’m glad you’re coming with us. You can see the house and the restorations I’ve made, and we can talk about Lady Helena.”