While he strode beside Sophy to the works’ gate, Martin reviewed all he’d heard.
They passed through the gate, and he hailed a hackney. Once they were bowling back to Carmichael’s, he murmured, “So you will be at the ball tonight?” He’d assumed she would be; it hadn’t occurred to him that she might avoid the occasion.
She sighed deeply. “My grandmama is a force of nature and not to be denied.”
Abruptly wary, he asked, “And your grandmother is…?”
“Lady Bracknell. My mother’s mother.”
“Ah.” Enlightenment dawned.
Sophy glanced at him, then studied his face. “I take it that means you’re acquainted with her. She recognized your name when Julia let it fall.”
He sighed, much as she had done. “Your grandmother is a friend—a close friend—of my grandmother, Lady Horatia Cynster.”
Sophy read his expression and laughed. Then she patted his hand where it rested on his thigh. “Don’t worry. Courtesy of my advanced years, I’ve cured—or perhaps more accurately exhausted—Grandmama’s matchmaking tendencies.”
“Ladies like your grandmotherneverlose their matchmaking tendencies.”
“Well”—still grinning, she faced forward—“I assure you such machinations no longer work on me.”
They might, however, work on Martin. In fact, the more he considered the prospect, he wondered if, perhaps, Lady Bracknell might not prove to be an ally in the not-too-distant future.
Hmm.A curious notion, but not one he was inclined to reject out of hand.
A second later, Sophy turned to him, a puzzled expression on her face. “Where did you hear about the ball?”
He looked into her turquoise eyes and decided that, given the direction of his plans vis-à-vis her, candor and the simple truth was his only real option. “After we left you yesterday, Oliver and I decided to see what we could learn about town. We thought to look up your cousin Edward, and we ran him to ground at the Iron and Steel Club.”
She widened her eyes. “And…? What did you make of him? Could you see him as the villain behind the accidents?”
Martin grimaced. “He was as pompous and stuffy as you’d described, and while Oliver and I agree he seems an unlikely fit for the role of villain, neither of us is as yet willing to strike him off our list of suspects. But to answer your question, it was Edward who encouraged us to attend the ball. We’d introduced ourselves essentially as who we are—investors looking to engage in the iron and steel trade. He said if we wanted to meet everyone who was anyone in iron and steel in Sheffield, the ball was the place to be.”
He paused, then added, “We also heard from Edward and several others about Charlie, again confirming all you’d told us. From what we gathered, he’s in London.”
She nodded. “As I said, I can’t see either of them being involved.”
There was considerable traffic on the bridge, and their progress slowed. Relaxing against the seat, Martin said, “Tell me about those I’ll meet at this ball.”
Sophy arched her brows, then admitted, “Edward was correct. If you want to extend your contacts in the Sheffield iron and steel trade, our Annual Charity Ball is guaranteed to afford you the best opportunities.”
She went on to list the various magnates and luminaries of the trade who were certain to make an appearance. “Sad to say, my grandmother was also correct in saying that, as the head of Carmichael Steelworks, I really have to attend.”
The hackney finally reached the town end of the bridge and turned west, toward the Carmichael works. Once they were bowling along again, Sophy slanted an assessing glance at Martin. “Are your and Oliver’s interest in the evening purely due to your personal agendas, or are you imagining that we might learn something pertinent regarding our accidents?”
“Both.” He met her gaze. “If we assume that whoever’s behind the accidents and the attempts to damage Carmichael Steelworks has the ultimate aim, for whatever reason, of having the steelworks fail, then there’s every chance we might learn something useful at the ball.”
She leaned against the padded seat and considered that prospect.
Eventually, distinctly wryly, she admitted, “For the first time in my life, I find I’m looking forward to a social event.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Martin smile.
CHAPTER7
Having remembered Sophy’s comment to John Brown that she wouldn’t be late to the ball, Martin walked into the Assembly Rooms shortly after the doors had opened.
Immediately, he realized his mistake. As neither Sophy nor Lady Bracknell had yet arrived, he fell victim to the most senior hostess, a Lady Ponsonby, who was acquainted with his great-aunt Helena. Holding his social mask firmly in place, he concentrated on remaining free of other young ladies’ clutches until Sophy and her grandmama appeared.
