Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

very large and look to be all of a piece. I wonder how they do that without mullions.”

“It is one sheet. They make a long cylinder of glass, then cut it down its length and flatten it while it is reheated. It is exported and there are buildings in London where you can see it.”

“You know such odd and interesting things. Could I have my windows like this?”

“It is very expensive, and I’m told it attracts mischief. Too expensive for a shop that you let, I would think.” He gestured to her reticule. “Have you seen your full and jotted down your inspirations? Or do you want to continue?”

“I am finished, I think.”

They hired a carriage to return them to the hotel, then crossed over to the Tuileries and strolled under its budding trees. Kevin guided her to a bench.

“We need to talk.”

“From your expression I think it did not go well with Mr. Forestier.”

“He has one more demand.”

“Not me, I hope.”

He laughed. “You seemed so oblivious to his flirting. Gracious, but unaware.”

“Oblivious seemed the wisest reaction. What other choices did I have? Flirt back or be very ungracious.” She shrugged. “I have learned that bland incomprehension is often the best response.”

“You will be relieved to learn that you are not part of the payment he requires. He wants a few shares of the company. He wants to have the chance to participate in any success.”

She thought about this unexpected turn in the negotiations. “I suppose that is understandable. It is something I would want if I were in his situation.”

“It is also all but impossible, so we are once again faced with returning to London without the license and knowing someone else will get it. I would like to know who our competitor is, and to what purpose he will put it.”

He descended into his distraction, probably to contemplate what other uses there might be for Forestier’s enhancement. From the way his distance grew, she guessed he also tortured himself with notions that another person had duplicated his own invention.

She took the opportunity to tease out why Forestier’s demand was impossible. “You think that if we give him even a small percent, he will have control.”

“Yes.”

“He would have the final decision, should you and I disagree. He would merely throw in with the side he prefers.”

“That small percentage would carry an outsize influence.”

“I see. As you said, impossible.”

Only he had not said impossible. He had said almost impossible. She turned and gave him a good look. “Get out of your mind’s pondering for a moment and explain what solution you saw. I know you devised one, even if you have not said so.”

He emerged from his thoughts much like an object lifted out of a lake, shedding the private calculations like so much water. “His share would only carry that weight if we each gave up an equal amount. If it all came from one half, his influence would be nonexistent.”

“Not true. Whoever gave up the percentage would be at the whim of whoever didn’t, should Mr. Forestier be persuaded to that viewpoint.”

“I suppose.”

“You don’t only suppose. You know. Let me guess. The almost impossible only exists if I am the one to relinquish some of my half.”

“I certainly can’t give up any of mine.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I would forever be at a disadvantage in any disagreement. He would be predisposed to throw in with you.”

“You don’t know that. It might not happen that way.”

“Rosamund, I’m not the one he wants in his bed. He would probably agree to anything if he thought it brought him one inch closer to having you.”

What a startling thing to say. “How dare you suggest that I would use that to win an argument about a decision regarding the enterprise. I do not employ feminine wiles that way.”

His arm came around her shoulders. “I apologize. I probably could have said that better. Nor would you need to use any wiles. It would just happen. It would all come from him.”

His discreet embrace felt very nice. She leaned toward him so he might be less careful. “If you are right, that would not be fair. So, we are back to impossible.”

“It appears so.”

He turned her and gave her a kiss. A very nice kiss. Most of her thoughts about Mr. Forestier disappeared.

“Unless . . .”

His kiss moved to her ear. “Unless?”

“What if we did not give him a tiny percentage of the enterprise? What if, instead, after we are successful, we gave him a tiny percentage of the profit? He would have no vote then. No ownership. Yet he would still participate in success.”

He tucked her head against his shoulder and embraced her fully. “He would have to trust us to admit the correct profits. I doubt that he will.”

“Then we need to think of a way to document that to his satisfaction.”

They sat there in silence. She assumed Kevin was contemplating the problem for both of them. She just enjoyed the warmth of his arms and the fresh spring breeze.

“Something like piece work,” he finally said. “In any given year, once we are profitable, he would receive a small amount of what we get each time the invention is used. I’ll need to spend some time with calculations to come up with how much he gets, but I can do that tonight. I’m not sure he will accept your plan, but it is one way to do it.”

She rather liked the way he called it her plan. “If you can find a way for it to work, I’m sure he will accept it.”

“If you wear that red dress again, he probably will.”

* * *

As soon as they returned to the hotel, Kevin procured some paper. When he entered his chamber, Rosamund saw him shedding his coats. He moved two lamps to a small writing table, set out the ink and pen, sat down, and disappeared into numbers. She closed the door because he had forgotten to.

At the dinner hour, she went to