Rachel nodded, a lump in her throat. It was as she had thought. Her father had manipulated Adam, lying to him in order to access his idea and then take it for himself. She sat mutely in front of Sullivan, unable to put into words what she was feeling. Oh, how betrayed Adam must have felt. As much as she still somewhat resented the fact that he thought her to be complicit in all of this, in the same breath she could now understand his reaction to it all. He had been duped by the lot of them. And now, not only had she reneged on her promise of marriage, but her father had taken from him something he had worked so hard for.
“Was that not what McDougall was told?” Sullivan asked, his gravelly voice cutting through her thoughts.
“No,” she said, shaking her head morosely. “Not at all. Adam was told he would be made a partner. Not in the company, but in this venture. That the three of you would come to a solution and then put it into practice, with all of you seeing the profits. Not that Adam was particularly concerned with making money off of this. He was more focused on ensuring that people could benefit from his work. He agreed to come only because he saw it as a way to put his work into practice and also… also…”
“Perhaps we should take our conversation into the workroom,” said Sullivan quietly. “There are fewer ears in there.” He ushered her into the room around the corner, and as she sat at a stool, she looked at the tools and the metal strewn about the table in front of her and realized this is where Adam had been working so diligently for the past couple of weeks. He had been here, likely where she was sitting. It made her feel close to him again, yet still so far away.
“Did Mr. McDougall come to London because of something to do with you, my dear?” asked the man who had known her since she was a child, and was almost more of a father figure than her own flesh and blood. He sat across from her at the table, his kind blue eyes taking her in with such compassion that she wanted to weep.
“I… we… yes,” she said, bowing her head as she tried to keep the tears from falling. “When I was in the Highlands we… we spent time together and we fell for one another, I suppose you could say. I thought he was my future. All I asked was that my father bless our marriage and he did not, of course. No, he is bent on me marrying Vincent. As much as I wanted Adam, how could I go against my father’s wishes after all he has done for me? He raised me when my own mother gave me up. If I say no to the marriage, then all plans for your business are ruined.”
“Plans?” asked Sullivan, a frown coming over his face. “What plans are you referring to?”
“Why, the plans for the Thompson family to buy your business, for Vincent to take over,” she said in surprise, thinking that Sullivan would know exactly what she was speaking about.
“That’s interesting,” he said slowly. “Particularly since this is the first I am hearing of such.”
“Oh,” she said, her mouth rounding and her eyes widening. “Oh, dear. Was I not to speak of it? I assumed that because you and my father were business partners—”
“We are,” he said, standing and beginning to pace back and forth. “And yes, because we are business partners, you should have been free to speak of it with me, as I should have known of such a plan. What the hell is Trenton up to now? Oh, excuse me, Rachel, I should not have spoken such in your presence.”
“It matters not,” she responded, in shock that her father would treat the man who was responsible for all of his success in such a way. “I am sorry, Sullivan. I know my father can be deceitful but this…”
“Is unforgivable,” he finished. “As is what he did to your Mr. McDougall.”
“He’s not my Mr. McDougall any longer,” she said in hushed tones.
Sullivan walked over to her, lifting her face to look at him. “Do you not love him, child?”
“No,” she said immediately. “How can I love a man who would suspect me of such treachery? I understand his thoughts but still…”
“How do you feel now that he is gone? Do you think of him?”
“Do I think of him?” she asked, looking down, her eyes tearing up of their own accord. “I do more than think of him. I see him everywhere I go. Every time I turn a corner around a street, I expect him to be there. Every time I walk down the corridor of our home I expect he will be awaiting me. Every time I walk into a room, I want to see his smile. Even now, I can almost feel his presence in this room, and yet the fact that he is not here… it makes me feel utterly bereft.”
“And yet you say that you
