All About Seduction(121)

He nodded toward the little cap in her hands. “We should go to London and buy everything for our son.”

Caroline put her hand against her flat stomach. What if the child was a girl? What if she lost it? She fought for calm. “It is early days yet, and for now I like the idea of sewing things myself. After all, the finest cotton can be found here.”

Mr. Broadhurst’s brows lowered speculatively.

Caroline suddenly wondered if the question were a trap. Most of their gentlemen guests, including her brother, had returned to London for the opening of Parliament. Perhaps she should have wanted to see her lover again.

She had to distract her husband, and the only thing that might serve was to refocus him on business. “I think we should move my desk into the back office.”

Mr. Broadhurst scowled. “Why would I do that?”

“So the transition, when it is necessary, will be smoother. At some point I will need to be in charge until our child is ready to take over operations. Besides, the outer office is a little crowded now.”

“Well, that may not last long.”

A cold chill ran down Caroline’s spine. Did he mean to be rid of Jack as soon as an opportunity presented itself?

Caroline stopped stitching. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How did you get your start with the mill?”

“It isn’t important.”

“I want to be able to answer whatever questions our child has. Did you start small with one loom or did you build the entire manufactory right away?”

“You have never been interested before.”

“That’s not true. I have asked before, but you have always dismissed my questions.” She hadn’t pursued it, but now she wanted to understand how one went about building a successful enterprise. She wanted to know for Jack’s sake. If she could give him any pointers so he could avoid pitfalls . . . “I just think our son will want to know where he came from. I want him to be proud of your success and know your history as well as mine. Did you work for someone else to learn the cloth business?”

“My mother had a loom. When I came into money, I built the mill.” Mr. Broadhurst stood as if her questions made him uncomfortable.

“Why here? Why not in Manchester or near a established town?” she persisted. She knew that Mr. Broadhurst had made money on the village lots, but now their isolation was limiting. Without other industry nearby, they had to continue to employ men while other mills went to female labor forces.

He paced to the fire and held his hands out. “The land was cheap, not fit for more than grazing sheep. Building my own village gave me more control.”

“Would you do it the same if you had it all to do over again?”

Her husband shrugged. “If I had coal mines like Granger, I could employ the men in the mines and the women in the mill and keep the cost of labor down. There are too many cotton mills now, but it was a good thing when I started it.”

“If you were to start another industry, what would it be?”

“It’s too late for me to start a new industry.”

Caroline pressed her lips together, rather than ask again.

Mr. Broadhurst stared into the fire. “It is probably too late to get ahead of the train industry, though machinery of all kinds look promising. Oil and its by-products, especially the polymers and resins, or rubber, are likely to become big profit makers.”

A frisson of excitement rolled through Caroline. No one could doubt Mr. Broadhurst’s business sense. If he thought it was time to strike with rubber, perhaps Jack was on to something.





Chapter 24



December turned to January. January folded into February and then slipped into a cold rainy March. Jack picked his way toward the mill office. In places the mud turned icy, and if he wasn’t careful he’d go sprawling. That had happened on more occasions than he cared to admit. He didn’t always know if he’d put his right foot down right, and the brace he wore only helped so much.

“Jack!”

He turned to see who it was.

Lucy skipped up to him and grabbed his free arm. “I’ve been waiting for you to come calling.”

The day hadn’t started yet, and her hair was already springing free of her bun.

“Let go, Lucy. I can’t walk when you’re tugging on me.”

“Seems to me you’re doing well, working as a clerk and everything.”

He turned and assessed her. Her figure seemed fuller than he remembered, softer, rounder. He stared at her stomach. The material stretched tight. Perhaps if he didn’t watch Caroline for signs, he wouldn’t have noticed the changes in Lucy. His heart sank.