Rebecca fought down the urge to rise to his bait, and replied coolly, “Of course not. What possible objection could I have?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “We didn't part on the best of terms, and I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. If you are worried that I will mention the incident, you may rest easy. It reflects well on neither of us.”
“Nothing you could do would be important enough to make me uncomfortable,” returned Rebecca, because for some reason she did not want him to know the effect he had on her.
“No?” His eyes were mocking.
Rebecca swallowed. “No.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
The atmosphere had suddenly grown thick, and she was uncomfortably aware of a tingling sensation running down her spine. He was a formidable man, and she was beginning to see why her grandfather had said he was such a strong player in business matters. It was not because he had a head for figures, as she had supposed — although he was undoubtedly intelligent — but because he had a ruthless streak that would serve him well in the cut and thrust of commerce. It was in his eyes, a ruthlessness that was akin to a jungle cat regarding its prey; because despite his civilised veneer there was definitely something ruthless about Joshua Kelling.
And he was to be her partner in the mill.
She felt a brief moment of panic, before her spirit rose to the challenge. Here was a man against whom she could test her mettle, and that was something she did not meet with every day.
“Wondering how strong I am, Rebecca?” he asked, as if reading her mind.
“I —” she said, startled. “How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked accusingly.
He laughed. “Jebadiah used to wonder the same thing. We had many battles. Most of which I won. But not all.” He looked at her critically. “You are very like him. When we met in The Nag's Head I wondered who you reminded me of, and now I know. When you lift your chin — yes, like that!” he said, as she unconsciously lifted it, sensing a challenge, “then you are just like Jebadiah. Not physically, of course,” he said with a wicked smile, “but there is something about your manner, as if you are saying, Do your worst, it won't be enough, no man will ever get the better of me.” His smile broadened into sardonic laughter. “With his blood in your veins it's no wonder you were capable of standing up to me. What is a wonder is that you didn't turn me out of the room!”
Again, that humour in his eyes. In other circumstances she would have found it appealing, but Joshua was a strong adversary and she knew she must give him no quarter. So instead of laughing, she said with deceptive mildness, “You find it amusing that I was forced to spend the night in the attic with my maid?”
He shrugged.
“No. I don't. If I'd known who you were I'd have let you have the room. But as matters stood —”
“As matters stood?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrows.
Wishing a moment later that she hadn't. Because his face lit up with another wicked smile. He was clearly recalling that, as matters stood, he had asked her to share his bed!
Fortunately, at that moment the unctuous clerk returned.
“I have secured you a hansom,” he said ingratiatingly, bowing to Charles and Joshua in turn before smirking at the ladies.
“Thank you,” said Charles briefly.
To Rebecca's relief, Charles gave her his arm and the two of them went out to the hansom, leaving Hetty and Joshua to follow on behind.
“What a surprise, Jebadiah leaving you half the mill,” said Charles to Rebecca as, back in Sloane Street, the four of them enjoyed a refreshing cup of tea.
“Actually, no.” Rebecca set her cup down in its porcelain saucer. “I knew he intended to leave it to me.”
She saw Joshua's eyebrows raise at this, and was now certain that he had been unaware of Jebadiah's plans. Still, he had taken the news very well, she thought.
“I will, of course, buy you out,” he remarked, joining in the conversation for the first time.
Ah! So that was why he had taken it so well! He thought it was no more than a minor disturbance of his plans. Well, he was about to find out his mistake.
“Thank you, but I have no intention of selling.”
“You won't get a better price from anyone else. I would expect you to take advice on what your half is worth, and I would give it to you without haggling. You have only to —”
At that moment the door opened and Canning, the butler, entered the room. “Mr Munce is here,” he told Charles. “You asked to be informed the moment he arrived.”
“Yes, thank you, Canning,” said Charles. “Will you excuse me?” he asked. “I have some urgent business to take care of. I won't be long.”
He left the room.
“I hope he remembers to—” began Hetty worriedly. She put down her cup with a clatter. “I had better remind him. Will you excuse me?”
She stood up.
“Charles?” she called, following him out of the room. “Remember to tell Mr Munce that —”
What Charles was to tell Mr Munce was lost as Hetty's voice faded away down the corridor.
Joshua, who had risen on Hetty's departure, sat down again. Returning to his conversation with Rebecca he said, “You have only to name your price, and I will buy you out at once.”
“That is very generous of you,” remarked Rebecca, feeling strangely unsettled now that she was alone with Joshua. Although his large body was relaxed, there was definitely something uncivilized about him, but she must not let him know that she was uneasy, for he would be sure to exploit any signs of weakness. So steeling her nerve she said firmly, “They are not for sale.”
“You can't have a half share in a mill,” he said with a look of tolerant amusement. “You're a woman —”
“I believe Grandfather was aware of the fact,” she remarked.
“I'm not unaware of it myself.” His eyes became sharply focused and trailed over her body, making her feel restless and hot. She unfolded her fan and wafted it in front of her in an effort to cool herself down.
As if the action had reminded him that he was in Hetty and Charles's drawing-room, and with Jebadiah's grand-daughter, Joshua's eyes returned to her face. “A half share in a mill is worthless to you,” he said reasonably. “I'll pay you a handsome price, and you can put the money to better use.”
“No.” She shook her head. “If Grandfather had wanted me to have money he would have left me money, but he didn't. He wanted me to have half of the mill and I intend to keep it.” She looked at him defiantly.
He returned her look levelly. “Are you always so stubborn?” he asked. He crossed one booted foot negligently over the other and settled more comfortably in his Hepplewhite chair, resting his arm along its back.
“Stubborn?” Her eyes opened wide. “I am not stubborn.”
“Oh, but you are. You refused to give up your room at the inn without a struggle, and now that I am offering to buy your shares in the mill you have dug in your heels and refuse to sell. Tell me, Rebecca, do you ever agree to anything?”
“Of course,” she returned.
“Name it,” he said with a sardonic smile.
“Really, this is ridiculous,” she said, opening her fan again. “I fought for my room for very good reasons, and I am refusing to sell you my shares for reasons which are equally sound.” Her words were common sense personified, but she was growing more and more unsettled under his gaze.
“I cannot force you to sell —” he remarked with a lift of his eyebrows.
“Then at least we are agreed on something,” she interjected.
He gave a wry smile, but then his mouth became ruthless again. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.” His voice took on a new, more practical, quality. “In the meantime, I will of course keep you updated on everything of importance that happens with regard to the mill —”