And now he had.
He grinned as he set his ball back on the tee and slammed it straight down the fairway toward the green, gazing at its trajectory with satisfaction. About damn time she got the message. He’d wasted a lot of years waiting for life to get interesting again.
* * *
Harcourt & Sons was one of those long-established London companies that dabbled in a wide variety of businesses, assembled over generations less with logic than with the various passions and needs of prior generations. William appreciated that aspect of the company’s history. It made his own acquisition tactics in recent years seem perfectly fitting. His ancestors had acquired whatever companies appealed to them, just as he was intent on acquiring those most likely to annoy Destiny.
Harcourt owned a small chain of exclusive haberdashers, founded due to William’s grandfather’s girth and demand for excellent tailoring. The chain had begun on Saville Row, then spread through the countryside, thanks to his grandfather’s contacts in Parliament who wanted the shops that specialized in personalized service conveniently located in their home districts. It was also a small way to support their local woolen manufacturers.
Another company was renowned throughout the country for its exotic selection of teas, acquired when William’s grandmother had had difficulty obtaining the blends she wanted. Those shops had later been expanded to serve an elegant afternoon tea, when his mother had wanted a place to take her friends after a day’s shopping.
The whole conglomerate had begun quite unexpectedly with an antiquarian bookshop, opened after his great-grandfather’s bookshelves were filled to overflowing with leather-bound editions of the classics, as well as the lighter novels preferred by William’s great-grandmother. This remarkable woman had not been content to sit idly in the country when her husband came to London. Far ahead of her time, she’d wanted something productive to do. She’d found a location and badgered her husband until he’d helped her to set up the shop. Their friends had been scandalized that Amanda Wellington Harcourt would ignore the family’s noble heritage and go into trade.
To everyone’s surprise, except her husband’s, she’d made an enormous success of it. She, not William’s great-grandfather, was the Harcourt of Harcourt & Sons. H&S Books now had stores all over Great Britain, still dealing primarily with rare books and first editions, though a rack of current bestsellers was beginning to appear in some of the stores along with important biographies and books on travel.
Recalling the oft-told tale now, William couldn’t help being reminded of Destiny. She and Great-grandmother Amanda had a lot in common. Both were bold, strong women, who refused to be confined by society’s constraints. They both had vision and the drive to succeed.
He’d been little more than a toddler when his great-grandmother had died, but he could still remember the fire in her eyes and the enthusiasm in her voice as she’d talked about books and read to him from the classics. She, more than any teacher he’d ever had, had taught him to love learning and to be open to new ideas. She’d been the one who’d made him into the kind of man who’d be drawn to an unconventional woman like Destiny.
Sitting behind the desk in his office, William pulled a signed volume of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol from the shelf behind him and rubbed his fingers over the fine, gold-embossed leather. This rare treasure had been a gift from Destiny when she’d discovered his love of old books. Inside, he found the card she’d written in her neat hand. “To my love. May you always know the true meaning of Christmas and feel the joy in my heart when I think of you. You, too, are rare and wonderful. Love, Destiny.”
Carefully, he replaced the book in its place of honor on his shelf, then buzzed for his assistant. Malcolm Dandridge had been with Harcourt & Sons since William’s father’s day. There was little Malcolm didn’t know about what went on inside the company and in corporate London. William counted on Malcolm’s loyalty and his discretion. Over the years both had proved invaluable.
“Yes, sir?” Malcolm said, entering with pad in hand, ready for whatever business William needed him to tend to.
“Sit, Malcolm. Tell me what you’ve heard about Carlton Industries lately.”
To his credit, Malcolm had never asked about William’s seeming obsession with the American conglomerate. Nor had he criticized the sometimes inexplicable decisions William had made to go after companies that were ill suited for Harcourt & Sons. If he thought William’s behavior was reckless, he was far too polite and loyal to mention it.
“It’s been a bit quiet lately,” Malcolm reported. “It’s my opinion, sir, that the last negotiation rattled them. It proved rather costly, thanks to your clever strategy. I’m sure they’re busy trying to conserve capital in order to offset that particular deal.”
“Anything about the new chairman?” William asked, wondering if Lloyd had gotten it right and Destiny truly was coming to take over. “Has one been appointed?”
“Yes, sir. A Ms. Destiny Carlton, a rather surprising choice according to my sources.”
William’s heart did another little stutter step, even though it was old news to him. Having it confirmed made it seem that much more real.
“When will she be taking over?” he asked, hoping his expression was totally bland.
“I believe Ms. Carlton is expected in early December, sir.”
“Not until then?” William asked, both surprised and more than a little disappointed. It was only the beginning of October now. “Any explanation for the delay?”
“None, sir, though it is my opinion that she’s probably
