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Authors: Laura Lee Guhrke
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and less about titles, shook her head.
"Chase Toy Company," Percy went on. "Nathaniel Chase. They must be related somehow."
"He's related to a viscount?" Mara thought of his rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. She could hardly credit it.
"If I recall correctly," Percy went on, "the viscount had a brother who ran off to America. It must be at least ten years ago, now, but I don't remember his name. It could have been Nathaniel." He added, "Of course, I might be wrong. It might just be a coincidence."
"I don't care about his background," she said with an impatient shake of her head. "He arranged this meeting to discuss making toys, but I plan to explain to him that what he wants to do just isn't possible."
Percy glanced at the clock. "If he ever arrives. He's late."
Mara wasn't surprised. But as the minutes went by, and Mr. Chase still did not arrive, she began to wonder if something serious had delayed him. He'd probably wandered into the street and walked in front of an omnibus.
When the clock chimed nine, she stopped dictating correspondence to Percy and sent the secretary in search of him. "Find out if he sent word he would be detained," she said. "If not, he lives next door at Mrs. O'Brien's. Find him."
"Yes, ma'am."
Percy departed, and Mara went back to work.
It was only a few minutes before the door opened again and Percy entered her office with the startling pronouncement, "He's already here."
"What?" Mara rose to her feet. "Where?"
"I don't know, but I'm told he's been here for over half an hour, walking around the factory, introducing himself to the employees."
Mara tossed down her pencil. She strode out of the room, past Percy's desk, and into the corridor. "Of all the idiotic things to do," she muttered as she walked down the long corridor. "Call a meeting for eight o'clock and not even bother to let us know he's arrived."
She paused at the entrance to the production floor and scanned the room, then glanced up to the mezzanine. There was no mistaking the tall form standing by the worktables. She started up the stairs. "Keeping us waiting while he introduces himself to the employees. Presumptuous fellow. Couldn't he have waited?"
When she reached the top of the stairs, she came to a halt and glanced down the rows of tables, noticing that the women who were supposed to be assembling parts into motors were not doing so. Instead, they were watching Mr. Chase.
His tawny hair caught the sunlight coming through the windows as he leaned over the table beside Emma Logan, watching her work. He said something to her and smiled. Mara imagined there was a faint intake of feminine breath at the sight of that smile, although she couldn't actually hear any such thing over the roar of machinery below.
Immune to the devastating effects of male charm, Mara strode forward, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She was scowling.
Nathaniel wondered if Mara Elliot ever smiled. He doubted it. He watched her approach, and he noticed that as she came toward him all the women at the tables instantly resumed their work with industrious zeal. Their smiles disappeared, and their laughter faded away.
She came to a halt by the table and placed her hands on her hips. "Mr. Chase, when you demand a meeting for eight o'clock, you might at least have the courtesy to be there for it."
He smiled at her. "Good morning, Mrs. Elliot."
It didn't work. Her scowl deepened, bringing her raven brows together in a sharp line above her narrowed eyes, eyes which were as dark and turbulent as the thunderclouds of a summer storm. "It is not a good morning, sir, and I refuse to pretend that it is."
She lifted one gloved hand and grasped the pendant watch that lay against the tucks of her pristine white shirtwaist. Turning it in her hand, she checked the time. "It is now quarter past nine. Do you wish to start work, or would you prefer to fritter away the entire morning gossiping?"
Nathaniel straightened, glancing at the man by the stairs,
"Chase Toy Company," Percy went on. "Nathaniel Chase. They must be related somehow."
"He's related to a viscount?" Mara thought of his rumpled clothes and disheveled hair. She could hardly credit it.
"If I recall correctly," Percy went on, "the viscount had a brother who ran off to America. It must be at least ten years ago, now, but I don't remember his name. It could have been Nathaniel." He added, "Of course, I might be wrong. It might just be a coincidence."
"I don't care about his background," she said with an impatient shake of her head. "He arranged this meeting to discuss making toys, but I plan to explain to him that what he wants to do just isn't possible."
Percy glanced at the clock. "If he ever arrives. He's late."
Mara wasn't surprised. But as the minutes went by, and Mr. Chase still did not arrive, she began to wonder if something serious had delayed him. He'd probably wandered into the street and walked in front of an omnibus.
When the clock chimed nine, she stopped dictating correspondence to Percy and sent the secretary in search of him. "Find out if he sent word he would be detained," she said. "If not, he lives next door at Mrs. O'Brien's. Find him."
"Yes, ma'am."
Percy departed, and Mara went back to work.
It was only a few minutes before the door opened again and Percy entered her office with the startling pronouncement, "He's already here."
"What?" Mara rose to her feet. "Where?"
"I don't know, but I'm told he's been here for over half an hour, walking around the factory, introducing himself to the employees."
Mara tossed down her pencil. She strode out of the room, past Percy's desk, and into the corridor. "Of all the idiotic things to do," she muttered as she walked down the long corridor. "Call a meeting for eight o'clock and not even bother to let us know he's arrived."
She paused at the entrance to the production floor and scanned the room, then glanced up to the mezzanine. There was no mistaking the tall form standing by the worktables. She started up the stairs. "Keeping us waiting while he introduces himself to the employees. Presumptuous fellow. Couldn't he have waited?"
When she reached the top of the stairs, she came to a halt and glanced down the rows of tables, noticing that the women who were supposed to be assembling parts into motors were not doing so. Instead, they were watching Mr. Chase.
His tawny hair caught the sunlight coming through the windows as he leaned over the table beside Emma Logan, watching her work. He said something to her and smiled. Mara imagined there was a faint intake of feminine breath at the sight of that smile, although she couldn't actually hear any such thing over the roar of machinery below.
Immune to the devastating effects of male charm, Mara strode forward, ready to give him a piece of her mind. She was scowling.
Nathaniel wondered if Mara Elliot ever smiled. He doubted it. He watched her approach, and he noticed that as she came toward him all the women at the tables instantly resumed their work with industrious zeal. Their smiles disappeared, and their laughter faded away.
She came to a halt by the table and placed her hands on her hips. "Mr. Chase, when you demand a meeting for eight o'clock, you might at least have the courtesy to be there for it."
He smiled at her. "Good morning, Mrs. Elliot."
It didn't work. Her scowl deepened, bringing her raven brows together in a sharp line above her narrowed eyes, eyes which were as dark and turbulent as the thunderclouds of a summer storm. "It is not a good morning, sir, and I refuse to pretend that it is."
She lifted one gloved hand and grasped the pendant watch that lay against the tucks of her pristine white shirtwaist. Turning it in her hand, she checked the time. "It is now quarter past nine. Do you wish to start work, or would you prefer to fritter away the entire morning gossiping?"
Nathaniel straightened, glancing at the man by the stairs,
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