'Are you always this tyrannical, Mr Stanton?'
'When the occasion demands...' A faint half-smile played on his lips.
'Very well.' Emma withdrew a sheaf of papers from her reticule. 'I came to see Mudge about the final Goose Club list.'
'The Goose Club?' Jack's eyes widened. 'What does Mudge have to do with this Goose Club of yours?'
'Mudge, as foreman, collects the monies from the men throughout the year. He keeps an up-to-date list. Somehow I only have last year's.' The answer tripped off Emma's tongue. She had been under no illusion that Jack would be easy to get round, but she did want to see what was happening--and gauge how long she had to convince her father and Jack to move the piers. Speaking to Mudge was the best way, as her father had refused to divulge the information, telling her she had to go and speak with Jack.
'You should have given me the message this morning.' Jack regarded Emma, standing before him. Her blue poplin morning dress increased the blueness of her eyes. Her cape and matching hat, with its feathers curling towards her ripe mouth, completed the picture. Her acquiescence last night had been too quick, too sharp. He had anticipated some sort of rearguard action, and Miss Harrison failed to disappoint.
'I did not see you this morning. I only realised the final list was missing when I went through the accounts.' Emma held up the paper with a smile. 'The geese are drawn at the feast. We are missing final payment from six of the members, including Davy Newcomb. But he has paid. I checked with his mother.'
'Do you need the list today?' Jack asked between gritted teeth. This was a ploy of Emma's to get her own way. He had no doubt that she planned to interfere and cause problems. It had taken most of yesterday to undo the damage that Mudge had implied her orders had caused.
Her eyes widened, and she looked very innocent, but her expression did not fool Jack. She intended her visit for other purposes. And he had little doubt what would happen in her wake.
He had already spent more hours than he cared clearing up oversights and errors. Had he not appeared when he had, the bridge would have been seriously delayed and possibly unsafe.
Jack stepped forward and took the piece of paper from her. The names were neatly written out. She had a fair hand. He had to admit that.
'It is the second of December. The feast is the twenty-fourth. It does take time with ordering. I want plump geese.'
'And while Mudge is checking on the details...?' Jack placed the piece of paper down on the front counter. He could see a certain logic in her statement, but he still did not trust her.
'I had planned to see what was happening with the foundations.' Emma gave a slight shrug and her bonnet shadowed her face. 'There is no harm in that.'
'You cannot think I have so easily forgotten our bargain, Miss Harrison.'
'But we also agreed that I was to look after the feast.' She leant forward. 'The problem with the list is new and unforeseen. Nothing to do with our wager.'
Jack's lips tightened to a thin line. The woman was impossible. It was no wonder she had never married. No man would want such a wife. 'We are at an impasse. Mudge is busy at present. We have begun investigating the castle walls.'
'No, not an impasse.' She gave a small laugh, but her eyes showed shock. 'Hardy that. I am happy to wait while Mudge finds me the correct list.'
'I cannot let you do that. It would be too much of an imposition.' Jack put out a hand, caught her elbow and propelled her towards the door. Emma dug in her heels and, short of carrying her, Jack saw that she was not going to move.
'Are you trying to get rid of me, Mr Stanton?'
'I am trying to do my job in the best way I know how to, and that includes not having any interference from unqualified people. Building a bridge takes more than placing a few piers in the ground and a plank or two over that. Once this bridge is built, it should last.'
'I am familiar with the plans,' Emma said through gritted teeth, hating that he had seen through her.
'Then you will know the hard work and the many mathematical calculations that have gone into perfecting it.'
Emma wrenched her elbow away from him. Glared at the infuriating man before her. He was exactly like all the other men of her acquaintance. She wondered what she had ever seen in him. 'What are you saying? Do you think women are not capable of making complex calculations?'
Jack ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. 'I am certain some women are capable of doing the mathematics.'
'And you think I am not.' Emma continued remorselessly on. 'You think I am only capable of being a decorative object!'
She hated the way her voice rose. She glared at him and struggled to regain her temper.
Jack looked away first.
'Bridge-building is not a hobby for bored women,' he said at long last, turning back to face her. His voice held that very calm and reasonable note, the one that made her want to scream.
'You could do more harm than good by inferring with things that are beyond your comprehension. There must be a thousand worthy causes that need your attention.'
'Is this what you think my interest in the bridge is--interference?'
'Miss Harrison, we have an agreement. You have yet to fulfil your part of it. Until that time I would suggest you let me get on with my job.'
Emma rolled her eyes heavenwards and clung onto the last remnants of her temper. 'The reason I came is important as well.'
'And you will have your precious list, and the correct number of geese you need. Order several more than you need. I am quite willing to foot the bill. Problem solved.' Jack smiled, the sort of smile that lit his eyes and no doubt had the power to make women go weak at the knees. 'Now, if you will let me get on with my work...'
Emma stiffened her back. 'You are leaving me no option.'
'I am not.'
He escorted her back to her carriage and saw that she was comfortably settled, tucking the carriage robe around her. Altogether the solicitous gentleman, despite his attire. 'If you will excuse me, I have a bridge to build. No doubt you will have some social calls to make.'
'As a matter of fact, I do.'
Emma pressed her head against the seat and closed her eyes. The memory of his fingers brushing hers lingered, grew. She did not want to like Jack Stanton. She wanted to hate him.
But she found herself growing increasingly attracted to him.
Jack paused in the doorway of the dining room. The gaslight lit a charming domestic scene.
Emma was curled up on a sofa, reading, while her hand absently stroked a black cat. It was perfect. Almost too perfect. Jack felt a pang in his insides. He tried to hang on to the illusion for a while longer. He had forgotten how much he had once longed for a family, and how cruelly she had snatched the hope away. He forced himself to remember that as well.
'Miss Harrison.' Jack gave an indulgent smile. No doubt she was reading a Minerva Press novel. He could see a half-sewn pair of slippers lying abandoned next to her.
She glanced up and stuffed the book behind a cushion. Her hands went to her hair, automatically adjusting the pins.
'Mr Stanton, I didn't hear you come in.'
'I am sorry to interrupt such a charming tableau. Pray continue with your reading.'
Jack thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. There was no reason to keep thinking about this woman. She wasn't even pretty--not in the conventional sense, not any more. Her nose was too long, and her cheeks far too pale for the china doll prettiness favoured by society. Her eyes had taken on a serious glint, and there was determination in her chin, but once he started to look at her he found it difficult to draw his eyes away. All day he'd found his mind wandering back to her, wondering what her next move would be.
'Did you wish to speak to me about something?' She tilted her head to one side. 'Another attempt to induce me to polka? Or is it something more ridiculous?'
With a start he realised he was staring at the shape of her lips. Quickly he crossed over to the fire and gave the coals a stir. The fire leapt back into flame, consuming the coals with orange tongues. Bright, brilliant, but over in an instant.
The thought shook him. He had sworn never to have anything more to do with this woman after the way she had treated him. But that was in the past. He had put the past behind him, so why had he returned to her?
'That list you gave me this morning--I presume it was in your own hand?' he said, when he had regained control.
'It was.' A frown had appeared between her brows. 'Mudge will find the correct list, I am sure, and your company will not have to provide the extra geese...if that is what concerns you.'
'Which you have ordered?' Jack said.
'It had to be done.' She raised her chin and the blue flecks in her eyes fairly danced. 'I asked for the largest they had.'
'I feared you might have done so.'
'You are not telling me that you now wish you had never made the promise?' She tilted her head.
'I always keep my promises, Miss Harrison, foolish or otherwise. And I fail to see how anyone could consider giving a few geese at Christmastime foolish. But I thought to order turkeys. They are larger birds, and their meat goes further.'
'That is true, but it is too late. The order has gone in and I would be loath to change it.'
'But I did not come to speak of this.'
'If you did not come to tell me about the Goose Club, why have you invaded my bower?'
Jack waited. Now that he looked closely he could see the piles of notes, and a pen. Miss Harrison had not been reading a Minerva Press novel. She had been doing calculations.
Something about the bridge concerned her.
'You have a distinctive way of forming your "e"s.'
'I had an eccentric governess. She taught me a little of this and that, but nothing of any real substance.' Emma gave a brief self-deprecating laugh. 'It was not until my mother became ill that I really learnt to apply myself.'
'It can be tedious being at the beck and call of an invalid when one is used to going out in society.'
'I managed.' Emma held her breath. She had no wish to explain about the relief she'd felt when she did not have to make meaningless small talk any more or strike attitudes, a living picture to be admired.
'You did one or two of the sketches for the bridge.' Jack looked at her, daring her to deny it.
'I may have done. My father wanted to see if I could draw properly,' Emma replied cautiously. She watched his face for any sign that he had guessed what she had done, any opening so she could explain without accusing her father. 'My drawing has always been a great comfort to me.'
If he suspected the main design had been done by her, rather than her father, she could well imagine the eruption. He would insist on the whole design being redone, rather than simply moving the line. She had to face facts. If she wanted this bridge built, she would have to keep silent, downplay her role. The design was correct. It was the position that was wrong.
'They are very charmingly executed. I notice yours have the keep in the background.'
'I think it is important to retain the past.' Emma met his deep black eyes, eyes that assessed but showed little warmth. Tried to ignore the sudden butterflies in her stomach. 'The castle is central to the city. It is where it gets its name.'
'The castle belongs to the city's past.' Jack banged his hands together. 'It is the city's future I am concerned with. If the bridge becomes too expensive to build, Newcastle will cease to have its position as one of the premier cities in the Empire, if not the world. How then will the citizens of Newcastle fare? The workers and their families?'
'But...' Emma tried to think of an argument that would sway him. He had to understand that tradition was important to people.
'You should not have false hope, Miss Harrison.' Jack tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat.
'The ground farther down the bank is poor. Your father's precise calculations have shown that. It can't be done. Not without causing the foundations to go down much deeper.'
'It can't be done?' The corners of her mouth quirked upwards. 'I thought the motto of the modern British engineer was it can be done.'
'One cannot fight the laws of nature.'
'It is impossible to work outside the laws of nature. Even a woman like myself knows that.'
Emma fought to keep the exasperation from her voice. 'It is just...'
'Just what?'
Emma regarded her hands. How could she confess that she was certain some of her father's calculations were wrong, dangerously wrong? She had worried before, but after what she had read today she knew. She wanted a little more time to recheck. But how could she have missed it before? How could her father have made those errors? 'A few more experiments have been made, a new survey...it leads to slightly different conclusions.'
'A survey you ordered? When your father was laid low by his chill?'
'Yes.' Emma kept her head upright. There was no need to explain about her discovery that several of her father's calculations were wrong. He had transposed several of the numbers. An honest error, but one that needed correcting. 'I thought it prudent.'
She waited for his answer. This was probably her one chance to get him to see about the bridge. And once she had done that she would have no need to go to the dance. Her lips curved up into a tiny smile.
'Miss Harrison, this is the most inappropriate conversation.' The corner of Jack's mouth twitched.
'Inappropriate? Why?'
'You very nearly had me discussing the bridge.'
'Is there something wrong with that?' Her eyelashes fluttered. 'It is something we are both interested in.'
'You forget our contract--we have yet to dance, to polka. You have but to say the word and we could dance in this very room.' He tilted his head, his eyes assessing her. 'No, Miss Harrison, I fear you think me only funning you.'
Emma struggled to keep a straight face. 'Are you not?'
'I am deadly serious about it. I never neglect a contract.'