'For God's sake! You're acting as though I've murdered her! She's on her way back from Yorkshire now. She should arrive tomorrow.'
Simon poured his brandy and sat down. 'Were the two of you able to adjust yourselves to the situation?'
'That's none of your business,' Quinn snapped.
Simon avoided meeting his eyes. 'What else do you want to talk about? I'm tired. I want to go to bed.'
'This won't take long.' The trace of a smile touched his lips. 'I've changed my mind about returning to Copeland and Peale.'
'Are you serious?'
'I am if you accept my terms.'
Simon understood his son too well, and now he knew the importance of treading carefully. 'I believe I presented a proposal to you several weeks ago. That offer is still open.'
'Not good enough,' Quinn grinned. 'If you want me back, you'll have to do better than that.'
'Stop playing cat and mouse with me! Tell me what you want!'
Quinn went to a small desk in the corner of the room where he pulled out a sheaf of papers. 'It's all in this contract.'
He waited patiently while Simon read it through. When he was done, his lips were tight with anger.
'You're out of your mind! You know I'll never agree to two of these conditions.'
'Which ones, Simon? There are a number of them.'
'You know very well which ones I'm talking about. Giving you an equal partnership as well as total control of the Cape Crosse yard.'
'Have it your way, Simon. I withdraw my proposal. It was everything or nothing.' Quinn stood and turned toward the door.
'Sit down,' Simon hissed. 'At least give me the courtesy of letting me explain myself!'
Quinn looked down at Simon for a moment and then, with a shrug, lowered himself back into his chair.
'It is premature of you to expect an equal partnership with Constance and myself,' he insisted, struggling to keep his voice level. 'Eventually, of course, I'd planned to make you a full partner, but hardly now.'
'The only way you were going to give me an equal partnership was in your will. You're a healthy man, Simon, and I don't intend to sit around waiting for you to die.'
He leaned back in his chair and studied his father coolly. 'But that's not what really sticks in your craw, is it? It's the idea of relinquishing control at Cape Crosse.'
'I built that yard from nothing. Nothing!' Simon's fist slammed down on the table next to him. 'Now it's one of the best operations in the world. I've already asked you to manage it. That should be enough.'
'Simon, that shipyard can't function with both of us running it.' All the mockery was gone from Quinn's voice. 'You're a good businessman; I don't pretend to be your equal. But now you have to step aside and let me build our ships my way. In the next twenty years the China trade is going to become more important than anyone dreamed, but the richest prizes will only go to the fastest ships. We have to be ready.'
'Even if I wanted to accept your offer, I couldn't. You forget that I have a partner.'
Quinn's response was his revenge for the part Simon had played in his conspiracy with Noelle. 'Constance has already signed.'
Simon's hand shook as he flipped back through the pages of the document to the end. There it was in her fine copperplate – Constance Peale.
Neither man spoke. Finally Simon wearily rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He was growing tired of the struggle, of trying to shape events to suit himself. Now Quinn was paying him back in the same coin.
Slowly he finished his brandy. Quinn deserved his revenge; he'd earned it. Simon got up from the chair and took the contract to the desk. His hand was firm as he dipped the pen in the inkwell and put his signature on the line next to Constance's. He passed the document on.
'Don't underestimate yourself. It seems you're more of a businessman than either of us thought.'
'I was playing with a stacked deck, Simon, and we both know it.'
Long after Quinn had left, Simon sat in the drawing room, too drained to move. When he finally took his watch from his pocket, he saw it was nearly ten o'clock. Slowly he pulled himself up and started for his bedroom, his hand trailing wearily behind him on the banister. He was irritated when the door knocker sounded. Who could be calling this late?
Her beauty, as always, caught him unprepared. 'Noelle!'
'Hello, Simon.'
She was expensively outfitted in brown and cream velvet. She wore a spencer the color of warm mocha. The jacket was cut fashionably short, covering only the bodice of her gown. It was softly edged at the neck and wrists with beige mink. Fetchingly angled over one finely arched brow was a pert velvet toque whose mocha and cream plaid matched the skirt of her traveling dress.
As she stepped smartly past Simon her graceful carriage hid her dismay at seeing him so soon. She had a score to settle with him, but she had hoped to postpone it until she was rested.
The coachman appeared at the door and brought her valise into the foyer. 'Will there be anything else, madam?'
'Please see that my companion reaches Ludgate Hill as soon as possible.'
With a nod and a respectful bow, he left the house.
'I-we didn't expect you back tonight,' Simon said uneasily. 'I'm glad you're home, Noelle.'
'I'm sure you are.' Her voice was chill and distant. 'You finally have what you've wanted all along, don't you?'
The footsteps of one of the servants approached them from the back hallway.
'Let's go in the drawing room, where we can talk.'
'I'm tired, Simon. I want to go to bed now.'
'Please, Noelle.' He took her arm and rather forcefully guided her through the double doors into the drawing room. 'I must speak with you before you get away from me.'
'What can you possibly have to say to me after all that's happened?'
'That I'm sorry.'
She pulled off each of her gloves with a crisp snap. 'Oh, come now, Simon. You're no longer dealing with an innocent. How can you be sorry when you've planned so long for this moment?' Looking at him contemptuously, she tossed her gloves down onto the settee. 'You've made me into the perfect wife, haven't you? Well-dressed, well- educated, possessed of all the social graces. Only the best for your son!'
'Try to understand. I was convinced the two of you would come to care for each other.'
'Are you insane?' Something inside Noelle snapped, and the composure she had tried so hard to maintain crumbled. 'I'm frightened of him! Can't you understand that? I always have been. He is wild and unpredictable. Your son is a savage!'
Simon winced as if she had slapped him, but her own suffering was so keen, she had no room in her heart for his. 'You were going to tell him, weren't you? If he hadn't discovered who I was, you would have told him yourself!'
Simon's silence condemned him.
Her fisted hands shook in front of her with the force of her pain. 'You promised you would protect me! Why? Why did you do this to me?'
Unable to bear the sight of her anguish, Simon turned his back on her and walked to the window, but her reflection stared back at him accusingly in the glass. 'There's more, Noelle.'
'What do you mean?'
As he spoke his finger traced the edge of the window pane that framed her image. 'I announced your marriage to the papers last week.'
'Oh, Simon, no!'
'It's created a scandal, of course. Everyone believes you've eloped. London's talking of nothing else. To make it worse, the daughter of a prominent banker tried to kill herself when she heard the news. Fortunately she wasn't successful. But she left a note that has made things more complicated than I ever imagined they would be. She accuses Quinn of promising to marry her. You're portrayed as a seductress. It's all very sordid.'
Reluctantly Simon turned to face her. 'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen this way.'
