Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [109]
“If it were so empty of value, you would have taken Raylor’s fifty thousand.”
“You misheard. I said fifty thousand might tempt me. He did not offer it. Yet.”
“I do. I suggest that you take it. I know you, and I see your game. It is time to stop this farce of encouraging other bids by pretending disinterest.”
“And stop the fun? I am up to fifty thousand already, despite insisting nothing is there. Imagine if I admitted something were.”
“You will do it because I will make good on my warning to contest the will if you don’t sell to me. As soon as my solicitor moves, all other offers will disappear.”
Castleford frowned over the threat while Latham peered at him intently.
“I see that you have me well cornered, Latham. You really are ruthless, aren’t you?”
“I only do what I know my father would have wanted.”
Castleford shrugged. “Hell, if I sell at all, it might as well be to you as to one of the other idiots, I suppose. Money is money.” And Tuesday was Tuesday. “I suddenly do not find fifty thousand as tempting as I thought I might, however.”
Latham’s eyes gleamed. He smiled smugly, confident of victory now. “I might consider a bit more.”
“Put the offer in writing, and I will think about it.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“We prune like this, Mrs. Palmer.” Daphne showed the woman the proper use of the little knife. The climbing rose on the arbor showed the results of the artless use of that tool today, accomplished before Daphne had time to stop the damage.
She left Mrs. Palmer to try again and walked over to where Mrs. Reever hoed at some weeds in the kitchen garden. All of the women knew about growing food, and this plot had seen excellent care the last week since they all arrived. She made them take turns, however, because she needed them to learn the finer points of horticulture if the business were to thrive.
The day proved warm enough, but with the arrival of September the breeze now carried that crispness that heralds the colder weather to come. Soon the chores would return to the greenhouse, and there would have to be much more instruction.
The word from Failsworth was that indeed some men had come looking for Margaret and even entered and searched her home. Daphne wanted to believe it was due to some honest inquiry into that day’s horrible events. She did not believe it, however. Neither did her guests.
They would remain with her a good long while, she suspected.
Mrs. Hill came out of the house. “Mail,” she said, handing over several letters. She peered out from under her cap’s edge. “I’ve been laying in staples and such, as you told me. I can always feed more mouths on the money we spend, but be expecting a lot of soup and bread.”
“I have every confidence in you, Mrs. Hill. As long as we do not starve, all will be well.”
Mrs. Hill gazed at the gardens and at the three bonnets bent to their labors. “Their trouble will pass, I am sure you know. They will not be here forever. Nor the others coming now. I’ve no good sense with plants in the growing, only the cooking, as you also well know. Once they all leave, and with Katherine gone now—”
“I appear to attract women who need homes, much as a light attracts moths, as you well know,” Daphne said with a teasing smile. “I expect there to be others.”
Mrs. Hill nodded. “I guessed about Katherine. I was tempted to talk to her, to reassure her. She remained so fearful, as if she expected a magistrate to show up any day. Of course, I assumed she’d had the good sense to do him in. I always say, if a woman is going to cut a brute somewhere, she may as well make it his throat.”
Daphne always found Mrs. Hill’s lack of contrition about one brute’s neck a little dismaying. But then she reminded herself just how broken and battered the woman had been when they met six years ago.
“It was