Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(15)

As Bowman continued to ramble, Matthew thought of how perfect the name was, the small white-petaled flower that appeared so delicate and yet was remarkably hardy. It said something that in a family of overpowering personalities that Daisy had always remained stubbornly true to her own nature.

“…obviously I would have to sugarcoat the deal,” Thomas Bowman was saying. “I know you well enough to be certain that you would choose a very different sort of woman for yourself, one with more practical uses than a flighty slip of a girl like Daisy. Therefore—”

“No sugarcoating would be necessary,” Matthew interrupted calmly. “Daisy…that is, Miss Bowman, is entirely—” Beautiful. Desirable. Bewitching. “—acceptable. Marrying a woman like Miss Bowman would be a reward in itself.”

“Good,” Bowman grunted, clearly unconvinced. “Very gentlemanly of you to say so. Still, I will offer you fair recompense in the form of a generous dowry, more shares in the company and so forth. You will be quite satisfied, I assure you. Now as to the wedding arrangements—”

“I didn’t say yes,” Matthew interrupted.

Bowman stopped pacing and sent him a questioning stare.

“To start with,” Matthew continued carefully, “it is possible Miss Bowman will find a suitor within the next two months.”

“She will find no suitors of your caliber,” Bowman said smugly.

Matthew replied gravely despite his amusement. “Thank you. But I don’t believe Miss Bowman shares your high opinion.”

The older man made a dismissive gesture. “Bah. Women’s minds are as changeable as English weather. You can persuade her to like you. Give her a posy of flowers, throw a few compliments in her direction…better yet, quote something from one of those blasted poetry books she reads. Seducing a woman is easily accomplished, Swift. All you have to do is—”

“Mr. Bowman,” Matthew interrupted with a sudden touch of alarm. God in heaven, all he needed was an explanation of courtship techniques from his employer. “I believe I could manage that without any advice. That’s not the issue.”

“Then what…ah.” Bowman gave him a man-of-the-world smile. “I understand.”

“You understand what?” Matthew asked apprehensively.

“Obviously you fear my reaction if you should decide later on that my daughter is not adequate to your needs. But as long as you behave with discretion, I won’t say a word.”

Matthew sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling weary. This was a bit much to face so soon after his ship had landed in Bristol. “You’re saying you’ll look the other way if I stray from my wife,” he said rather than asked.

“We men face temptations. Sometimes we stray. It is the way of the world.”

“It’s not my way,” Matthew said flatly. “I stand by my word, both in business and in my personal life. If or when I promise to be faithful to a woman, I would be. No matter what.”

Bowman’s heavy mustache twitched with amusement. “You’re still young enough to afford scruples.”

“The old can’t afford them?” Matthew asked with a touch of affectionate mockery.

“Some scruples have a way of becoming overpriced. You’ll discover that someday.”

“God, I hope not.” Matthew sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands, his fingers tunneling through the heavy locks of his hair.

After a long moment Bowman ventured, “Would it really be so terrible having Daisy for a wife? You’ll have to marry sometime. And she comes with benefits. The company, for example. You will be given controlling interest in it upon my death.”

“You’ll outlive us all,” Matthew muttered.

Bowman let out a pleased laugh. “I want you to have the company,” he insisted. It was the first time he had ever spoken this frankly on the subject. “You’re more like me than any of my sons. The company will be far better off in your hands than anyone else’s. You have a gift…an ability to enter a room and take it over…you fear no one, and they all know it, and they esteem you for it. Marry my daughter, Swift, and build my factory. By the time you come home, I’ll give you New York.”

“Could you throw in Rhode Island? It’s not very large.”

Bowman ignored the sardonic question. “I have ambitions for you beyond the company. I am connected with powerful men, and you have not escaped their notice. I will help you achieve anything your mind can conceive…and the price is a small one. Take Daisy and sire my grandchildren. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s all,” Matthew repeated dazedly.

When Matthew had begun to work for Bowman ten years ago, he had never expected the man would come to be a surrogate father to him. Bowman was like a barrel of explosives, short, round and so quick-tempered you could predict one of his infamous tirades by watching the top of his bald head turn fiery red. But Bowman was clever with numbers, and when it came to managing people he was incredibly shrewd and calculating. He was also generous to those who pleased him, and he was a man who kept his promises and fulfilled his obligations.

Matthew had learned a great deal from Thomas Bowman, how to sniff out an opponent’s weakness and turn it to his advantage, when to push and when to hold back…and he had learned, too, that it was all right to unleash his aggressiveness in business as long as he never crossed the line into outright rudeness. New York businessmen—the real ones, not the upper-class dilettantes—did not respect you unless you displayed a certain amount of contentiousness.