Being rich does have advantages. The Hubbard's have a personal telegraph in the office, which she routinely uses to her advantage. A quick telegram is sent to her broker, and she removes the evidence and gets back to work, she is just finishing up when she hears them coming. Lord Hubbard enters with four businessmen, and London turns to leave.
“Bring us a light lunch. Tea and coffee,” he demands.
“Yes, Sir.” She rushes to the kitchen to place the order.
Cook is grumbling about being short-staffed, and London offers to serve. “Let me help, Cookie,” she teases.
“Thank you,” she turns and prepares the tray while London snacks on an apple. “I never know how many will be with him. Lady Hubbard fired two maids this morning.”
“Of course she did and right before the holidays,” London rolls her eyes and draws out her small notebook and pencil to write. She spies the newspaper, noting the date, November fifth, and tucks into the corner, quickly finding the financial section and reads, before putting her pencil away.
“Careful girl, or you’ll be next,” Cookie sniffs as she fills the tray.
“I know it. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long.” London takes the tray and rolls it from the kitchen and down the hall. She stops outside the office. A quick knock and she enters with the tray.
It never fails to amaze her how they dismiss her simply based on her looks. She sets the lunch service out on a table in the corner and listens.
“Sheridan won't let me buy-in. Some nonsense about having enough investors. Who has enough investors?” Lord Hubbard snaps.
“Once your daughter marries him, surely he will offer it to you at a discount,” one man suggests with a grin.
“Not likely, the man is stubborn. Even after I hinted at it, multiple times, he simply ignored me.”
“Gentlemen, we are talking about a great deal of money on the table. We either choose a new target or continue with our plan,” Lord Hubbard suggests.
London listens and slowly pours the hot tea. One man wanders over and picks up a cup, holding it out for London to fill without even glancing at her. She drops a sugar lump in and waits. He turns away and continues talking.
“I say Sheridan Furniture is set to explode. They make exquisite furniture, and according to my daughters, it's all the talk.” The men laugh, and London lifts the silver dome off the hot soup. She fills each bowl with hot soup. The scent of fresh soup draws them to the lunch table, and London steps back between the curtains and waits against the wall, as all the staff do when serving a meal.
“One misstep and the shares will drop,” David suggests.
“One big misstep, and we can buy the majority,” Lord Hubbard laughs and shoves a biscuit in his mouth. London is disgusted. This kind of business dealing is shocking. When she first started trading, she soon learned it was common practice.
It's a shame. Someone should warn the family… or she could take advantage of this information and scoop up some tidy profits for herself? London scolds herself. I'm way too smart to have to resort to such sundry tactics. Perhaps an anonymous note would do the trick? She will think about it.
Chapter 2
Declan glares at his grandfather as he puffs on his pipe with a content smile. “You’ll see the wisdom of my decision later, Declan. You must be married by Christmas, or I will simply fire you.”
“Surely you’re joking, Grandfather. I helped build this company! I’m thirty, not some teenage boy you can scare with your threats!” Declan declares and slams his whiskey glass on the desk.
“Threats?” Matthew Sheridan drew himself to his full height of six feet and stepped closer to his grandson. “Your father made me swear on his death bed to see you wed by your thirtieth birthday. You've had plenty of time on your own to find a suitable match. You work too hard, Declan. There's more to life than your workshop!” His bluster dissipates, leaving behind only compassion and love. “Your birthday is in four weeks. I’ll see you wed before the sun sets on December third, one way or another.”
“I know of your promise, but…”
“Enough. Lady Reagan Hubbard is due for tea in a half hour. I expect you to be engaged before she leaves.” He slams a small box with a ring inside on the desk.
“Lady? Did the family buy a title?” He demands, but his Grandfather ignores him. Declan watches him limp from the room on his cane and sighs as he runs a hand over his face. His beard is growing back, and he meant to get a shave before she arrived. Reagan Hubbard is lovely to look at, but Declan has no interest in marrying her. Judging from her response to him, she's not thrilled by the prospect either.
The last thing he wants is to be married to a giggling girl. He has prayed for a woman of breeding, elegance, and beauty, but most especially brains. Every season is the same. They parade the newest young women in front of him, hoping to secure a match. Some go to lengths that would make a grown man blush to ensure that happens.
He has on more than one occasion found a young woman in his bed. He
