“Brilliant,” he stares at the blush on her cheeks and wonders just who she is.
“No, just a product of the job. On one particular afternoon, they were discussing how to get a hold of your shares, and they schemed against you.”
“What do you mean?” he demands. His dark eyes flash as he waits for London to continue.
“Mr. Hubbard wanted to force the investors to drop your shares so he could buy them all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Declan sits back in disbelief and runs a hand through his dark hair.
“To be honest, it was a solid plan.” She stares at him when his mouth drops open, but before he can argue with her, she holds up a hand. “Shareholders are finicky and skittish. The slimmest rumor sets them off, and they will sell-off at the slightest indication that a business is in trouble. Even if it is untrue.”
“And you know this, how?” he asks with a raised brow.
“That’s not important, Lord Sheridan.” She leans towards him, determined to make him understand. “I overheard them plotting against you, and I slipped a note in the pocket of your jacket, the night you and Matthew came to the house for dinner. Unfortunately, you didn't find it in time.” She frowns and rubs her leg.
Her pain is affecting him. “Can I help, perhaps a cold cloth?” Declan asks.
“No, thank you, it just needs time to heal,” she sighs. Declan orders a tray of food and sits back down to hear the rest of the story.
“Please continue, you were saying that you dropped a note in my jacket and then what?”
“I waited, but time went by, and nothing was said. I assumed the danger had passed, but just to be safe, I sent a telegram to your office, anonymously.”
“I see,” he watches her face as she talks. Declan doesn’t know what to think. A missing note and a telegram that he never received. It sounds suspicious.
“The day of the fire, I was in the office cleaning, and overhead George outside with a man named Ryan, telling him that it couldn’t wait. He paid him to set fire to the warehouse. Lord Sheridan, he was very specific that you were with Reagan every night, and no one would be in the warehouse, but regardless, it had to be done that night.”
“Please call me Declan. My wife wouldn’t address me as Lord Sheridan.” Declan jumps up, missing her blush and paces in the small space. “I wasn’t with Reagan. She refused to see me the month before the wedding, said some nonsense about bad luck.”
London watches him quietly. He is understandably upset.
“I thought Reagan was meeting with you every day for the past month.” London smiles at her cleverness. “Smart girl.” Her soft laughter fills the room. “Obviously, she was with Edmund.”
“London, is it possible that you misheard them? It makes no sense that he would burn down the business of the man marrying his daughter. That would leave her penniless!”
“Men do not care about such things,” London snaps and glares at him. “I know what I heard. George was planning on buying a majority of the shares, Declan. He doesn’t care about Reagan, only his own purse!”
“Some men do care about the women in their life, London.” He sits heavily beside her. “This is beyond comprehension to me.”
“Human beings are capable of much darker deeds than this, Declan.” The sadness in her voice causes his eyes to jump to hers, and his heart sinks for her.
“What darkness have you seen, London?” he asks.
“The Lord’s hand has always guided my path, Declan I've been luckier than some,” she smiles weekly, “and all is well that ends well.
“Tell me the rest,” he demands.
London sighs. “You know the rest.” Staring at him, she frowns, “I took a carriage to your warehouse, and just as I arrived, the fire started. I saw the man George hired running from the building, and I tried to help you with the door, but it was stuck. I ran around the back, hoping to throw water on the flames, but it only made it worse,” she frowns, thinking about it.
“That’s because he switched it with oil,” he takes her hand and flips it over, tracing the wound with his finger. She shivers and tries to pull her hand back, but he refuses.
“Look at me,” he demands. Her eyes jerk to his, and she's shocked by the emotion reflected in them. “Thank you. You owed us nothing, London. Despite your experiences, you risked your own safety to help us. My Grandfather is all I have left in this world, I’m not ready to lose him.”
“I understand,” she thinks of her father in the workhouse. No matter what his sins are, she's in no position to judge him. That's the Lord's job. “I just wish I could have gotten to you sooner.”
This time when she tugs her hand from his, he allows the separation. “No. If the criminal setting the fire had seen you…” he leaves the sentence to greet the porter with their lunch.
It hadn't occurred to London that he could've seen her. A shiver ripples over her, and she wonders if he stuck around to watch the fire? Declan returns with food, and they spend the next few minutes eating in silence.
After the lunch trays are removed, Declan glances at her. “It would seem that George Hubbard has won. By now, he will have bought all the shares and have majority ownership in Sheridan Furniture.”
“Not exactly,” London says in a quiet voice. His eyes jump to hers once more.
“What does that mean?”
London reaches in her pocket and draws out the envelope and offers it to him.
“What's this?” he asks as he opens the envelop and draws out the paper. His
