Nev to bring his own Rosemary home to meet her.
He’d made the matter worse by introducing her to Grace at the bank one day when he and Grace had been on their way out for a lunch date. The two women had shaken hands, all business—his mother was on the board, Grace in Human Resources—but he’d seen the triumph on his mother’s face. This one! her expression had said. Marry this one!
When he told her they’d broken it off after dating only a few weeks, Mother hadn’t taken it well. Since then, she’d hinted several times he needed to put himself on the market again.
Now, clearly, she’d decided to take the matter into her own hands.
“And what if I don’t want to marry?” Nev didn’t particularly look forward to the answer to this question, but given the likelihood that Winston and his mother were both involved in the scheme, there would be multiple layers of blackmail involved. His mother was the sort who liked to poison and stab her victims, just to be certain she’d done the job properly.
“The board has determined that another candidate is better suited to your current position. If you don’t wish to move up, I’m sure we can arrange a transfer to one of the branch offices.”
Ah. So he had to come up with a bride or suffer banishment. That sounded like Mother.
It also sounded illegal.
“You can’t be serious. No place of business can blackmail its employees into marrying. For the board even to have discussed this is a serious breach of ethics.”
Winston leaned back in his chair, smirking. “The conversations were all quite informal, Iassure you. I think you’ll find, if you care to investigate, that our position is perfectly legal and completely secure.”
Translation: try to bring a lawsuit, and you’ll lose. In the networks his family belonged to, influence and convention mattered a great deal more than the law. The law could be bought, and cheaply at that.
Nev crossed his arms over his chest. “It may not be necessary for you to send me off to Swansea. I’ve been thinking of leaving the bank behind to pursue other options.”
This wasn’t strictly true, unless daydreaming about finding a gallery for his paintings counted, but he needn’t tell his brother that.
Winston merely smiled. “What are you going to do, paint? You’re too old to play at being an artist.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“I suppose it is. But I should tell you, if you leave the bank, you’ll be on your own. Mother will cut you off without a cent.”
Nev relaxed, relieved to hear the other shoe hit the floor. If he didn’t marry, he’d be demoted. If he left the bank, he’d become a pauper. Mother was fond of marking out her approved course of action by making all the alternatives as unattractive as possible. She didn’t have a high opinion of his intelligence.
Of course, he could always find work with one of the rival banks, but he wouldn’t, and Mother and Winston knew it. He lacked their vindictive streak, as well as their passion for the family business. If he wasn’t to work at Haverford Bank, he’d just as soon leave banking altogether, and both of them would have guessed that.
“Does Dad know about this?”
“I haven’t spoken with him.”
That was most likely a no, then. His father wouldn’t approve. But he wouldn’t do anything about it, either. He always went along with Mother.
Winston set his unfinished tea on the table and stood, straightening the creases in hisslacks. “You have until the bank holiday. You’re to bring a fiancée home with you.”
The next bank holiday was at the end of August. That gave him a month to comply with this ridiculous scheme. “You can’t be serious. Even if I were inclined to go along, you can hardly expect me to manage to find a wife in a few weeks’ time.”
Winston simply shrugged. “You can be charming when you put your mind to it. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
Nev saw his brother out, resisting the urge to help him down
He’d made the matter worse by introducing her to Grace at the bank one day when he and Grace had been on their way out for a lunch date. The two women had shaken hands, all business—his mother was on the board, Grace in Human Resources—but he’d seen the triumph on his mother’s face. This one! her expression had said. Marry this one!
When he told her they’d broken it off after dating only a few weeks, Mother hadn’t taken it well. Since then, she’d hinted several times he needed to put himself on the market again.
Now, clearly, she’d decided to take the matter into her own hands.
“And what if I don’t want to marry?” Nev didn’t particularly look forward to the answer to this question, but given the likelihood that Winston and his mother were both involved in the scheme, there would be multiple layers of blackmail involved. His mother was the sort who liked to poison and stab her victims, just to be certain she’d done the job properly.
“The board has determined that another candidate is better suited to your current position. If you don’t wish to move up, I’m sure we can arrange a transfer to one of the branch offices.”
Ah. So he had to come up with a bride or suffer banishment. That sounded like Mother.
It also sounded illegal.
“You can’t be serious. No place of business can blackmail its employees into marrying. For the board even to have discussed this is a serious breach of ethics.”
Winston leaned back in his chair, smirking. “The conversations were all quite informal, Iassure you. I think you’ll find, if you care to investigate, that our position is perfectly legal and completely secure.”
Translation: try to bring a lawsuit, and you’ll lose. In the networks his family belonged to, influence and convention mattered a great deal more than the law. The law could be bought, and cheaply at that.
Nev crossed his arms over his chest. “It may not be necessary for you to send me off to Swansea. I’ve been thinking of leaving the bank behind to pursue other options.”
This wasn’t strictly true, unless daydreaming about finding a gallery for his paintings counted, but he needn’t tell his brother that.
Winston merely smiled. “What are you going to do, paint? You’re too old to play at being an artist.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
“I suppose it is. But I should tell you, if you leave the bank, you’ll be on your own. Mother will cut you off without a cent.”
Nev relaxed, relieved to hear the other shoe hit the floor. If he didn’t marry, he’d be demoted. If he left the bank, he’d become a pauper. Mother was fond of marking out her approved course of action by making all the alternatives as unattractive as possible. She didn’t have a high opinion of his intelligence.
Of course, he could always find work with one of the rival banks, but he wouldn’t, and Mother and Winston knew it. He lacked their vindictive streak, as well as their passion for the family business. If he wasn’t to work at Haverford Bank, he’d just as soon leave banking altogether, and both of them would have guessed that.
“Does Dad know about this?”
“I haven’t spoken with him.”
That was most likely a no, then. His father wouldn’t approve. But he wouldn’t do anything about it, either. He always went along with Mother.
Winston set his unfinished tea on the table and stood, straightening the creases in hisslacks. “You have until the bank holiday. You’re to bring a fiancée home with you.”
The next bank holiday was at the end of August. That gave him a month to comply with this ridiculous scheme. “You can’t be serious. Even if I were inclined to go along, you can hardly expect me to manage to find a wife in a few weeks’ time.”
Winston simply shrugged. “You can be charming when you put your mind to it. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
Nev saw his brother out, resisting the urge to help him down
Similar Books
