“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “What if I had been in bed?”
There was a subtle shift in her tone when she asked. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she wasn’t angry anymore. Not like before. This was softer. His eyebrow quirked upward as he glanced toward her, as if half-afraid of what he’d see. There was a glint of wickedness in her eyes. The same one that came to life in their previous sparring sessions. She was playing with him. His blood thickened in response, making his body feel heavy and languid, half-aroused already.
“Yes, I thought of that. Thankfully, I saw your lamp on.” He indicated the sconce on the wall.
“What if all had been dark?”
He shrugged, his feet taking the smallest step toward her. “I thought I might throw pebbles at your window.”
“Do you even know which one is my bedroom window?”
“Not yet.”
She shivered, the movement subtle enough that he might not have seen it had he not been watching her closely. Her eyes darkened, the pupils growing larger in arousal. God, he wanted her. That need frightened him. After a decade of indulging himself in only the most casual of sexual experiences, he felt that this could be something deeper.
“I didn’t come here to argue,” he said, realizing he needed to get to his reason for visiting so late. Perhaps Montague would still be open, and he could go there afterward to work off his excess energy. “I told Sir Phineas that I want you to have the priory.”
“What?” Her body drew back as if her disbelief had propelled her into motion.
“Helena, both of our projects will benefit many people. I . . .” He paused and took in a breath. He’d been taught all his life that being vulnerable in any way was an undesirable thing. But she deserved to know that she had changed his mind. “Despite how it seems, I heard what you said; your argument was sound. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that those women and children were without a home when I could have done something to stop it.”
“What about your contracts . . . and the . . .” She looked as if she could hardly think straight. Her body was almost trembling with nervous energy. A smile tugged at his lips to see her on the verge of coming undone, but he was wise enough to quell the urge. “And the industrial compound . . . August? What about August and the dock?”
He took a step toward her and gently took hold of her shoulders. “After you left, I stayed and talked with Sir Phineas. We discussed his suggestion . . . the benefits of Crenshaw Iron taking over the rest of the compound with the priory going to your home. He seemed to truly want that scenario to work out.”
“Because you talked him into it?” A line of disappointment formed between her brows.
“No, because you talked him into it. When he made the suggestion at dinner, that’s what he wanted. He wanted you to have the priory all along.”
“To have it?”
“Yes, he wants to grant it to your charity. I believe he’d been intending to sell it to you, but he quite liked your suggestion of naming the hall Penhurst. You have an admirer in him.” The pang Max had felt every time that tender gleam came into Sir Phineas’s eye when he would look at her at dinner was not jealousy. He didn’t quite know what it was, but jealousy would be foolish.
She smiled, a slow, tremulous thing that made her bottom lip quiver. “I don’t believe you.” But she did. He could see the wonder coming over her face.
“Believe me. You’ll probably be hearing from Sir Phineas in the morning.”
Almost immediately, her brow furrowed again. “But what about August?”
He shook his head. “I’m not certain. We still have time before I leave to figure out a plan. I have committed to purchasing the rest of the compound. The warehouses in that location will be invaluable, but it’s not enough. We’ll have to scour the area for someplace that will house the workers. Someplace suitable, and we still need the foundry.”
“You could hire the women at the home.”
He laughed but stopped just as quickly when he realized she was serious. Still, he felt the need to ask, “You’re not serious?”
“And why not? Do you think the women are only suitable for positions as seamstresses or going into service?” Anger lit her face again.
He’d had enough similar discussions with his sisters to know that he was on fragile ground. “Not precisely, no.”
“Women are as capable as men. It would only take training.”
“A lot of training. It would be nearly unsurmountable.”
Now her hands were on her hips, loosening his grasp, and her dressing gown had almost become undone. The flannel nightgown pulled taut across her breasts, revealing their size. They would be more than a handful. He closed his hands into fists because he could imagine the weight of them already. He needed to get out of here. She might desire him, but she would not welcome him into her bed, into her. Even just imagining it had a wave of lust crashing through him.
“Are you saying that you are bringing in skilled workers?” she asked. “Men who are already familiar with working at a foundry? I thought your plan was to hire men from the area around the property?”
The woman was exasperating. “I am saying that there are machines they’ll need to learn.”
“Then we can train them.”
“But women aren’t strong enough—”
“It’s a foundry. There are metal castings, correct?” At his nod, she hurried on. “And you’ll be making small pieces, parts for the dock and tools?”
He nodded. “I suppose, yes. But some of these jobs are highly skilled positions. We’ll likely have to hire patternmakers and hand molders.”
“Is every job so highly skilled?”
“Well . . . no. Machine molders and coremakers can be trained within a few months.”
She smiled in triumph. “Then we could train the women to do those jobs, if they want.”
August had opened his eyes to the fact that women could fulfill the same roles as men in business. She had a head for numbers and was capable of working harder and longer than most men he knew. He simply had never considered women might also fulfill roles that were labor intensive. That they might work machinery or toil in the heat and tumult of a factory floor.
“I’m willing to discuss the option,” he said after a moment.
She frowned, her brows drawing together as if she couldn’t decide whether to argue more or not. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the befuddled expression on her face. She was frustrated, but she also realized she had won a sizable concession.