The Lady Always Wins(6)

“We have been in contact with the remaining shareholders,” Fortas said slowly. “We told them that if they sold to Ridgeway, the venture would be over—all progress would be completely halted—and they all agreed that they wouldn’t sell to him.”

“So they’re holding, then.”

“I thought so at first. Ridgeway made an offer, and was rebuffed.”

Maybe all was not lost.

“But it’s hard to convince men to hold when someone is trying to stop all operations. The shares will be worthless if Ridgeway succeeds. Nobody wants to be left holding nothing but liens.”

Simon blew out his breath. “Who sold?”

“Carter and Phillip. One hundred and thirteen shares in total.”

Simon shut his eyes. “Christ, that’s it. That gives him his majority. I’ll have their livers for going back on their word.”

“Technically, they’re within their promise. Ridgeway did not buy the shares himself. He sent a solicitor—one Mr. Bagswin—who claimed to be unconnected to Prince’s Canal.”

“Lying bastard.” Of course. If Ridgeway couldn’t buy the shares directly, he’d have set his solicitors to creating a fiction that could do so indirectly. Nothing for it now but to take another long swallow of beer. “And when will this Bagswin present the deeds to the company secretary?”

“Three days from now, on Thursday. Perhaps not by chance, the timing of that arrangement coincides with the timing of your meeting with Ridgeway.”

Simon tapped his fingers on the table. It was precisely as he’d feared. He was about to lose everything that he’d worked for. He’d built his success up piece by piece, starting with his first foray into railways—a small line connecting a coal mine in Wales to the coast. Over the years, he’d become more aggressive. This last project, though… In order to make it happen, he’d borrowed against all his assets, and then he’d borrowed against the assets he’d purchased.

“Ah,” he said. “Well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Et cetera. Insert whatever other platitudes you can recall; I can’t be bothered. The payroll is safe, at least. Please assure the men of that.”

Fortas gave him a reproving look. “With all that about to fall on your head, you’re really going to spend the next handful of days here, in—in—Chester-on-Bloody-Who-Cares?”

“With all that,” Simon said quietly, “this is my only window of opportunity. Once this becomes public...”

In his mind, it was simple.

He loved her, and she’d married someone else.

For years, Ginny had been utterly impossible to him. And then her husband had died. It was awful to rejoice in another man’s death…but then, Simon had always been aware that he bordered on the awful. He had at least planned to wait until her year of mourning had passed before presenting himself on her doorstep. But Ridgeway’s machinations had changed everything.

I’m not poor anymore, Simon had told her. But what he hadn’t said was this: I’m about to be.

He knew from painfully bitter experience that Ginny wouldn’t marry a poor man. She hadn’t done it seven years ago, and she wouldn’t do it today. Once his ruin became public, she’d turn from him once more. This time, when she married someone else, it might not be a man with a heart complaint. This time, she might pick someone hale and hearty, someone who would live forever.

If he didn’t marry her in the next three days, he might never have her. The last seven years had been hell enough.

There’d only ever been one way to win with Ginny: to confuse her as to what the game was. So long as she believed that he was intent on her seduction, all her efforts would go toward resisting the wrong thing. If she thought he only intended to have her in bed, she’d think herself the victor when he changed it all to marriage. And by the time she found out the truth…

She would hate him at first. He didn’t care. It would be too late by then. At least he’d have her, hatred and all. He’d win her back—eventually—and remake his fortune.

“I would have thought,” Fortas was saying, “that you would do anything to save your future.”

It had never been the money he cared about—not for himself. It had always been Ginny, even when he wished it hadn’t been.

Simon pressed his lips together. “You’re quite right about that,” he said. “I will do anything.”

“SO,” GINNY SAID, when Simon appeared on her doorstep the next morning. “You have only two days to seduce me. How ever are you going to accomplish that?”

She felt better this morning. She’d let him unnerve her yesterday; a good night’s sleep had restored her serenity. The truth was, no matter how much they might have hurt one another in the past, Simon wouldn’t find it difficult to seduce her. He’d meant so much more to her than those final acrimonious weeks.

He looked as handsome as ever. More handsome, in fact; his boyish features had hardened into strong, masculine lines. His eyes had always seemed roguishly blue; now, when he looked at her, they made her think of outright wickedness rather than mere mischief.

“I had hoped,” he said, “that I would just dazzle you with my wealth.” So saying, he yawned, covering his mouth. Something sparkly at his wrists flashed at her.