OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Whispers of Regency Love", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Chapter One
The workshop was busy , as it always was in the afternoons, filled with the gentle sounds of the looms thwacking as the weavers beaded the threads. There was the soft rustle of fabrics as seamstresses adjusted hems, and the snip of scissors cutting through yards of fabrics. The workroom was cavernous; tall ceilings reinforced with steel beams, concrete floors, and large glass windows along the southern wall facing the docks. Through the windows, barges could be seen moving slowly down the Thames, transporting goods farther down the river.
Miss Gwenyth Cavanaugh, who sat near one of the looms carefully watching the weaver’s progress, was in her element. It was always like that when she was in the workshop, overseeing her father’s luxury textiles and fabrics business. She was focused, calm, and assured. The most herself she ever felt—and certainly more so than when she was at balls and parties trying to catch a husband.
After watching a moment longer, Gwen nodded her approval at the weaver, then moved over to where a seamstress was embroidering a silk waistcoat. It was a difficult embroidery job, Gwen knew from experience. Silk was slippery, and as she watched the seamstress’ deft fingerwork, she noticed the slight pull of the fabric.
“Make sure not to let the fabric bunch up,” she reminded her gently, pointing at the pulling. “Silk bunches easily.”
“Yes, Miss,” the woman said, nodding quickly and narrowing her eyes as she focused on her work.
Gwen smiled appreciatively at her. “You are doing excellent work.”
“Thank you, Miss,” the woman murmured, and Gwen moved off through the rest of the workshop, examining newly embroidered shawls, monogrammed handkerchiefs, and even a wedding trousseau. The trim on the wedding dress was particularly exquisite, and Gwen took a moment to imagine how delighted her friend, Miss Estelle Rousseau, would be once she received it. Cavanaugh & Sons supplied the fabrics and embroidery for Estelle’s modiste.
The workshop was crowded, and Gwen had to move carefully between the weavers and seamstresses. All of them were focused on their work, but a few gave her small smiles as she passed. Gwen knew all of the workers by first name, and she was familiar with many of their families. Although Cavanaugh & Sons was growing in size and scale, she and her father still made it a point to get to know every single employee personally.
“It keeps us humble,” her father had informed her, when she had first begun working for him at twenty, sick to death of the marriage mart and eager for real, interesting work. “Not only does it remind us who actually makes our products, but it ensures that we are always doing our best to take care of their livelihoods.”
It was this kind of thinking that made Cavanaugh & Sons such a coveted manufacturer to work for, and also made their products more expensive. Their competitors preferred to keep their workers anonymous and their wages low. This meant that while they often made higher profits than Gwen and her father did, competitors’ products were far worse and not worn by the highest echelons of the ton.
The silence of the workshop was broken by the sound of a door opening, and Gwen turned to see her father’s assistant, Mr. Greer, walking briskly toward her.
“A note from your father,” Mr. Greer said, stopping before her and bowing. “He wants you to see him right away.”
Gwen took the note and unfolded it. She read over the words quickly. They nearly made her lose her balance. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her pulse began to race.
She looked up at Mr. Greer. “Did you know about this?” she asked sharply, making several seamstresses look over at her quizzically.
“Yes, Miss Cavanaugh,” Mr. Greer said, bowing his head. “But it was not finalized until this morning.”
“Well.” Gwen crumpled up the paper in her hand and let her fist fall to her side. “We will see about this, will we not? Pardon me.” And she ducked past Mr. Greer and headed for the door.
Out in the corridor, she paused, then uncrumpled the note and read it again, as if to double-check its veracity.
Dearest Gwen, I am overjoyed to inform you that I have secured the outside investor! Come see me at your earliest convenience so that we may discuss this exciting new development.
Your loving father,
C.
“Exciting new development!” Gwen repeated aloud furiously. “You know very well that I am opposed to bringing in an outside investor!” And she could hardly believe that her father had gone ahead and found one without consulting her first.
“Gwen?” The voice came from behind Gwen, startling her slightly, and she turned to see her sister, Iris, walking toward her along the corridor.
At nineteen, Iris was four years younger than Gwen and already far superior in looks, sophistication, and social graces. Iris was more petite and delicate than Gwen, with the same dark hair and blue eyes, but without the unfashionable dusting of freckles on the nose that had always made Gwen self-conscious. And whereas Gwen had often chafed against the social restrictions of the ton and its expectations for how a young lady should behave, Iris had never had any trouble playing the part. Perhaps because, for Iris, it wasn’t a part: she genuinely was the perfect young lady, sweet-natured and demure, accomplished and agreeable, and not at all interested in running her father’s manufacturing business.
Despite this, Gwen and Iris were very close.
“Were you talking to yourself?” Iris asked, smiling as she approached. “I swear I just heard you muttering angrily under your breath!”
“I was,” Gwen admitted, and she handed the note to her sister. “Look what father has just written to me!”
Iris read the note carefully, then looked up at Gwen, her expression thoughtful.
“Just try to stay calm, Gwen,” she murmured. “Father might have a perfectly valid reason for finding an outside investor.”
“I have seen the books, and I cannot think of a single reason he would bring someone in!” Gwen fumed. “We do not need one. The only reason I can think of is that he does not trust me to handle decisions on my own. He thinks I need a man to tell me what to do.”
“Gwen…” Iris shook her head. “You are jumping to the worst conclusion. It does not signify. Let us go speak with him, and I am sure he will put your mind at ease.”
Gwen took a deep breath and tried to take her sister’s advice. She knew Iris was right. She was always the peacemaker between Gwen and her father, and she had diffused many a fight over the years.
The two sisters began to walk along the corridor together, and a thought occurred to Gwen.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You never come to the workshop.”
Iris frowned slightly. “I was worried about Father after dinner last night. I thought he looked pale, and he barely touched his food. You both left so early this morning I did not have a chance to ask if he was feeling better, and I wanted to check.”
“That is very thoughtful of you,” Gwen said carefully, “but you do not have to worry about Father. He is perfectly well. We rode here together this morning and he was in fine spirits.”
Iris twisted her hands, and Gwen watched the movement. “Perhaps,” Iris murmured. “But his agitated state made me nervous.”
Gwen took her sister’s arm and squeezed it. “You are an exemplary daughter, Iris. The daughter I wish I could be! But you do not need to worry so much. I am keeping an eye on Father.”
It had been like this ever since their mother had died: Iris had begun to worry about illness incessantly. Gwen knew it was her job, as the eldest, to assuage her sister’s fears. But it worried her that Iris was so prone to seeing danger everywhere. She should be going to balls and parties and enjoying her debut, not seeing death around every corner.
They reached the end of the corridor, and Gwen knocked on the door.
“Enter!” Her father’s voice sounded from within, and she pushed open the door and stepped into the office.
Sir Cyrus Cavanaugh’s office was spacious and brightly lit, with large windows that looked out over the docks along the Thames and laden with rich furnishings. Most of the office was taken up by a large mahogany desk, and along the walls hung beautiful tapestries depicting forest scenes populated by fairies and unicorns. These had been woven by Gwen and Iris’s mother, who had been an expert weaver and embroiderer and taught Gwen everything she knew. A few of Gwen’s own embroidered pieces were also hung on the walls, as were several framed swatches of fabrics—the first that Cavanaugh & Sons had ever produced.
“Ahh, my daughters,” Sir Cyrus said, smiling as he looked up from his desk and spreading his hands wide in greeting. “How blessed can one man be to have two daughters of such equal beauty and intellect?”
Iris laughed as Gwen rolled her eyes. “Please, Papa,” Iris giggled. “We both know that Gwen has all the intellect.”
“And Iris the beauty,” Gwen quipped.
“Not at all, not at all.” Sir Cyrus stood and kissed them each on the cheek, then gestured for them to sit in the chairs across from him. Once he was seated, he steepled his fingers.
“I was not expecting both of you,” he admitted, “but I am glad to see you as well, Iris.”
“I came to check on you, Papa,” she said at once, sitting forward. “Last night you did not eat your dinner, and I heard you coughing in the night…”
“Oh, child…” Sir Cyrus shook his head. “You are sweet to worry about me, but I am well. More than well, in fact! I am positively delighted, because this morning, I finalized the plans to bring in an investor whose capital is going to secure the future of C&S!”
Gwen crossed her arms. “Papa, we talked about this,” she began. “C&S is doing better than it has in years. Profits are holding strong and our workers are happy and well looked after. We do not need an outside investor whose money will only make him feel entitled to change things… undoubtedly for the worse!”
Sir Cyrus sighed, his kindly blue eyes meeting his eldest daughter’s fiery ones. “I understand your concerns, Gwen, but we have to think about growth. Yes, our profits are holding strong, but they are not growing.”
“You know as well as I that holding strong is as good as growing in this industry,” Gwen said hotly. “With all the uncertainty in the cotton industry and the mills in Lancashire raising their prices we are lucky to be holding even. Other manufacturers are bleeding money. Some have even had to close their doors. Meanwhile, we have managed to stay open, continue to pay our workers above market rates, and maintain our profit.”
For a long moment, Sir Cyrus gazed at Gwen, his eyes sparkling with pride. “And your ability to keep all this information close at hand is why you are the best manager I have ever had!” He beamed at her. Do not fear, Gwen, this investor is not a vote of no confidence in your abilities. You are, and will forever remain, the heir apparent of C&S.”
Gwen’s stomach lurched. “Then why—”
“When has it ever been a bad idea to bring in a new voice? Another intelligent, astute businessman to imbue our enterprise with new ideas and fresh perspectives?”
Gwen flushed. “Well… ”
“C&S is all about progress! Progress is what fuels this great nation, it is what has allowed us to build factories and produce goods with unprecedented speed and efficiency! It is what has moved us from an agrarian economy to an industrial one, providing numerous jobs and opportunities for all people to better themselves! And this new investor, he is all about progress. He looks to the future and sees what we may become, not just what we have been. Not a nation whose people are hemmed in by titles and a lack of social mobility, but a nation where any man may distinguish himself and rise to greatness.” Sir Cyrus’s eyes twinkled. “Or any woman.”
Gwen shifted in her seat but said nothing. She shared her father’s enthusiasm for progress. It was progress that allowed her to work for him.
“You will see, Gwen.” Her father smiled at her in a kind but adamant way that she knew meant the conversation was over. “I think you will like him very much.”
“I doubt that very much,” Gwen muttered as she and Iris left their father’s office a few minutes later. Iris covered her hand to hide her smile, then shut the door quickly behind them.
“You are being far too negative about this investor, Gwen,” she said. “It sounds rather exciting, if you ask me! Someone forward-thinking and progressive could take C&S to the next level.”
“C&S is already a cut above the competition,” Gwen said, sighing. “And I fear that an investor will want to take away everything that makes us unique. He will want to slash wages or procure cheaper materials in order to improve profits, which could end up ruining our reputation and the lives of our employees…”
Iris arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think Papa would work with someone who so patently goes against his own values?”
Gwen hesitated. “Well, no…”
“No,” Iris said, clucking impatiently and taking her arm. “You need to trust Papa. And perhaps admit to yourself that lowering wages is not really what you are scared of.”
Gwen swallowed, but she said nothing. Iris was right, as she always was. Gwen wasn’t really afraid that her father was bringing in a man who would cut corners to increase profit.
She was afraid that her father was bringing in a man whom he would prefer to Gwen; a man who could be his unquestioned heir to his empire; a man who could finally make the company’s name a truth, not an aspiration: Cavanaugh and Sons.
A man who would replace her.
At the end of the corridor, she bid goodbye to her sister, then went back into the workshop, where she immediately spied Mr. Greer. He was observing several weavers and making notes in his notebook when she tapped him on the shoulder.
He started and turned around. “Yes, Miss Cavanaugh?”
“Mr. Greer, I have some questions for you,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Specifically, who exactly is this investor and what should I know about him?”
Mr. Greer hesitated, and Gwen’s frown deepened. “Tell me,” she commanded, and Mr. Greer sighed.
“I do not know much,” he admitted, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard. “What I do know is that he is the second son of a duke… and that he is said to have a scandalous past.”
Gwen raised her eyebrows. The second son of a duke with a scandalous past did not sound, to her, like progress. It sounded like the same story she’d heard a hundred times: the rich, spoiled, and bored second son of a peer. One who decides to make a name for himself by trying his hand at industry, only to bungle it all because he has actually never had to think, or work, a day in his life.
Well, if that is the case… Gwen smiled to herself. Then he will be easy to get rid of.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Whispers of Regency Love", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hello my dears, I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new book, it holds a special place in my heart! I will be waiting for your comments here, they mean so much to me! Thank you. 🙂