Page 14 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

thirteen

Five years later

On the ground littered with paint, sawdust, and discarded tools, Emma held her hat as she tilted her head back to stare at the half-built houses in St. Giles.

Holes opened throughout the street, and piles of logs and tiles were scattered around. It seemed as if the houses were being demolished rather than built.

She and Trevor had started a project to build better, healthier homes for the people in the rookery, and it’d taken almost four years, hundreds of papers, and no small amount of headaches. But finally the result of their hard work was visible. More or less.

They’d come to the construction site to check the progress.

Or lack thereof, since they’d visited the site months ago and nothing had changed since then.

But then again, Sir Horace, the chief builder, had claimed all sorts of delays had fallen on him, and the building expense had grown exponentially.

Speaking of the devil, Sir Horace strode towards them in a shiny suit that seemed impervious to lime stains. Her skirt had got stained in a matter of minutes.

“He’s here.” She tapped Trevor’s shoulder.

“Curse the day Father hired him,” Trevor muttered.

Sir Horace came to a halt in front of them. “Does Lady Emma need to be here?” he asked Trevor in a clipped tone.

She turned towards him. “Yes, I do, and I would appreciate it if you addressed the questions that regard me to me. Thank you.”

Sir Horace gave her a half-moon smile that chilled her. “I’m merely concerned for your well-being, my lady. A construction site is no place for a lady. Your late father, bless him, wouldn’t have approved.”

“But Trevor is the Earl of Pembroke now,” she said, just to put Sir Horace in his place. “And I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

He dipped his slimy gaze to her chest, and she fastened the front of her cloak as the revolting sensation of being touched by him slithered down her back.

“Yes, I can see you aren’t a girl anymore.” His tone sounded mocking.

Trevor shifted his position to force Sir Horace to stare at him. “As my sister said, I’m the earl now.”

A sudden heart problem had taken Papa away three years ago.

She regretted the bitterness of the last moments she’d spent with him.

They hadn’t seen eye to eye about his treatment of Marcus, but their most furious fights had been about Papa hiring Sir Horace.

He’d claimed Sir Horace had been the best option.

They’d argued and said harsh words they hadn’t really meant. Then he’d died. And she missed him, despite everything. Despite the fact she and Trevor were bound to Sir Horace by a contract they hadn’t chosen.

Sir Horace exhaled as if gathering his patience to deal with naughty children. “My lord, your sister’s presence here is unnecessary.”

“My sister is more than welcome to share my interest in the project. This is our project, after all. So any news?”

Sir Horace watched the builders going up and down the scaffolding for a moment. “We’re on schedule. We had a minor delay due to a supply of wood arriving late, but aside from that, everything is going well.”

“On schedule?” She tried to get Sir Horace’s attention, but he ignored her.

“We heard complaints about the construction methods you adopt,” Trevor said. “A few workers have been injured because of a lack of safety measures, and a part of the construction site collapsed, which has put us behind schedule. Not to mention the growing cost of the buildings.”

“Who said those claims?” Sir Horace put both hands on the pommel of his walking stick. His narrowed eyes glinted.

“The names don’t matter.” Emma gave him a sweet smile. “We care about the truth.”

“No need to worry about that, my lady. There isn’t any truth in those accusations. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have two more construction sites to visit before dusk.”

After the Tay Bridge disaster and Sir Albert’s death, Sir Horace had founded his own company, Sindall Building Co., and had become rather popular, being involved in several projects, which didn’t please her in the least.

Besides, since the Tay Bridge disaster, there had been rumours about a few townhouses built by Sir Horace’s company having structural problems. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t been charged with negligence, as it’d happened to poor Sir Albert.

She followed him as he hurried towards the cab waiting for him. “Sir Horace.”

He pivoted towards her, staring at her with coldness. “My lady?”

“Did you receive any news from Marcus?” Hadn’t she been desperate to know if Marcus was well, she wouldn’t have asked him.

He gave her another long, slimy glance that made her feel naked. “Don’t come to my construction site again. The only thing your presence does is distract the workers.”

She stepped back from him, anger heating her face. “I think you’re the only one who gets distracted.”

He grinned at her shock and resumed his walk to the cab.

She walked back to Trevor, fists closed at her sides. “He told me I distract the workers.”

Trevor’s eyebrows rose to the rim of his top hat.

“The more he speaks, the less I like him.” He worked his jaw.

“Weeks ago, he suggested we visit a house of ill repute,” he whispered the last word.

“I was so furious I feared a vein in my brain might explode. Disorderly houses. I’m no angel, but I would never exploit women. ”

She was impressed although Trevor’s dislike for gentlemen who attended disorderly houses was nothing new. “Apart from his rudeness, I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I. I would do anything not to deal with him.”

“His company has grown quickly. Too quickly.”

“As long as our houses are safe and well-built, I won’t complain. After that, I don’t care what my solicitor says. I won’t go near Sir Horace ever again.”

They climbed into the carriage in a foul mood.

Papa hadn’t been the most compassionate of men, but he’d agreed to help the people in the rookery. Help she was eager to provide, as she’d been eager to help Marcus.

He’d vanished. He had never written to her, never sent word of his whereabouts, and never shown up again at her house. If he’d started his own building company, she would know; there would be traces. But nothing. He wasn’t in prison. He hadn’t left England. He’d simply disappeared.

The only reply she’d received was from his friend, who was supposed to have accommodated him for a while, but that had been a lie. Marcus’s friend had claimed he hadn’t seen him in a long time.

That was why she’d employed the help of a private investigator to find him.

“Listen,” she said.

Trevor shot his gaze upwards. “Please. Every time you start a conversation with ‘listen,’ we end up doing something outlandish, like hiring a private investigator or changing the curtains.”

“Hiring that detective wasn’t outlandish but necessary, and you agreed. And the curtains needed to be changed. I thought you liked those I chose.”

“I was being polite, like every Englishman.”

“I prefer honesty.”

“What bothers you?” He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

She huffed. “The usual. Sir Horace. I would like to ask for a second opinion. Ask another civil engineer to take a look at his work.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Listen—”

“Again.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I want to ask another expert.”

“All right, but I don’t believe we’ll find any answers. Sir Horace’s company is essentially the only one working at the moment in London. Everyone else is fighting for the scraps of small projects. No one will go against him. Sir Horace isn’t an easy monster to slay.”

“I want to try.”

He scoffed. “Why do you ask for my opinion when you end up doing what you want anyway?”

“Because I’m polite, like every Englishwoman.”

“Honestly. You should have married that baron and moved to Bath.”

“I didn’t like him, and that was a low blow.”

“Low blows are all I have right now.”

“You rejected one lady after another, too.”

“Because I don’t want to have a child a few months after I’m married.

The ladies I met were all eager to give me an heir.

One promised me I would be a father exactly nine months after the wedding.

What happened to being romantic? No, thank you.

Besides, I’m not fond of children. Too noisy and smelly.

And I want a wife, not a broodmare.” He tilted his head.

“No, actually, I’m looking for a broodmare for my beloved stallion. ”

“Does Ophelia have anything to do with you rejecting every lady?”

He turned serious. “Don’t start.”

“I don’t mean to upset you. I want to know if you’re still thinking about her after all these years.”

He seemed to shrink as he hunched his shoulders and slouched on the seat.

She touched his arm. “I saw you the other day staring at the locket with her photograph. You looked so sad.”

He scowled. “Do you spy on me?”

“I just happened to see you, and I’m worried about you.”

“And I’m worried about you. You’ve rejected one suitor after another for ridiculous reasons. At least my reasons to reject ladies are moral.”

She slanted him a glare. “I want to spend the rest of my life with someone I like and respect.”

“You rejected Lord Carlton because you didn’t like his laugh.”

“It gave me a headache.”

“What about Viscount Apley? You didn’t like him because he said he doesn’t read books.”

“What better reason than that?”

Trevor tilted his head as if in agreement. “You look for excuses, and that’s fine by me,” he hurried to add when she opened her mouth to protest. “If you don’t want to marry now, it’s all right. Just say it and be honest. But grant me the same freedom, thank you very much.”

She folded her hands on her lap and stared out of the window. She wanted to get married and have a family. But with a man who made her heart race and her mind thrive.

And she hadn’t found anyone.