without difficulty, stifling a sigh. “I know my best chance is to find some people willing to back this scheme.”
“Would your family help? The ones in Yorkshire, I mean?”
“It’s possible. My uncle Richard owns a part-share in a few London hotels.” He smiled wryly. “No doubt he’d consider this far more practical than designing cathedrals in France. I’ll write to him tonight and ask his opinion. If he approves, he might be willing to advance me some capital, if only for the sake of family. But I suspect it would help even more if I could interest some of the local gentry in this venture. Do you think—Harry would be open to it?”
“He might ,” Sophie replied, after a moment. “ If he felt it benefited the county—and the rest of Cornwall. He thinks hard times are coming. Mines have been closing down, workers emigrating—a hotel could give them a reason to stay. Steady work and safer than going down a mine or out to sea. And you’d be offering employment to women as well, wouldn’t you?”
The practicality of her argument impressed him, but then, Sophie came from a practical family, Robin reflected. The Tresilians owned not only a tin mine, but also shares in local fisheries. “I’d planned to.”
“Well, then, I’m sure Harry would be willing to hear you out at the very least.” Sophie fretted her lower lip, a sight that Robin found more endearing—and distracting—than he cared to admit. “And maybe the Prideauxes. I know Roger Prideaux likes to have a finger in different pies. And the Tregarths, the Polwheles, and maybe the Nankivells—”
“No.” He hardly recognized the cold, clipped monosyllable as his own voice.
Sophie’s eyes widened. “I—beg your pardon?” she ventured, after a moment.
Robin surreptitiously unclenched his fists, willing himself back to calm. “If you were referring to Sir Lucas Nankivell, then—no. I would prefer not to do business with him.”
“Oh.” To his chagrin, Sophie was still eyeing him warily, as if he were a bomb about to explode. “Well, I suppose you may be right to feel so. Sir Lucas has never been known for having much of a head for business. It’s just that his family has such an old name in the county, and I know that can lend a bit more credibility to a project.”
Robin exhaled. “Forgive me. I did not mean to bite your head off. I’m aware that the Nankivells are a long-established family in St. Perran, but I feel there’s a certain—conflict of interest that would prevent any sort of profitable partnership between Nankivell and myself.”
“Conflict of interest?” she echoed blankly. “Over what?”
Over more things than you can imagine , Robin thought, looking into her lovely, uncomprehending face. Aloud he said, “I mentioned before that I’d inherited some railway shares from my grandfather. Nankivell recently approached me about acquiring them, but I am disinclined to sell.”
“I see. Well, then, what about James—as a possible investor, I mean?”
“Your cousin—the new earl? I thought he was having financial difficulties of his own.”
“Oh, he is, but that doesn’t necessarily rule him out as a potential backer. In fact, he might be even more receptive to your scheme because of his own situation.” Sophie paused, then added significantly, “He wrote in his last letter that he was courting a Miss Newbold from New York. We think she may be an heiress. And if they marry, he might be in a better position to invest in your hotel, especially if she supports the idea too. I’ve heard that Americans are great admirers of industry and entrepreneurship.”
“A possibility,” Robin conceded, “but let’s not count our chickens just yet. The lady might choose another. I’ve heard some heiresses won’t consider anyone lower than a duke.”
“Miss Newbold would be lucky to have James, even without a title!” Sophie declared staunchly. “Besides, he described her as lovely and charming, so she must
“Would your family help? The ones in Yorkshire, I mean?”
“It’s possible. My uncle Richard owns a part-share in a few London hotels.” He smiled wryly. “No doubt he’d consider this far more practical than designing cathedrals in France. I’ll write to him tonight and ask his opinion. If he approves, he might be willing to advance me some capital, if only for the sake of family. But I suspect it would help even more if I could interest some of the local gentry in this venture. Do you think—Harry would be open to it?”
“He might ,” Sophie replied, after a moment. “ If he felt it benefited the county—and the rest of Cornwall. He thinks hard times are coming. Mines have been closing down, workers emigrating—a hotel could give them a reason to stay. Steady work and safer than going down a mine or out to sea. And you’d be offering employment to women as well, wouldn’t you?”
The practicality of her argument impressed him, but then, Sophie came from a practical family, Robin reflected. The Tresilians owned not only a tin mine, but also shares in local fisheries. “I’d planned to.”
“Well, then, I’m sure Harry would be willing to hear you out at the very least.” Sophie fretted her lower lip, a sight that Robin found more endearing—and distracting—than he cared to admit. “And maybe the Prideauxes. I know Roger Prideaux likes to have a finger in different pies. And the Tregarths, the Polwheles, and maybe the Nankivells—”
“No.” He hardly recognized the cold, clipped monosyllable as his own voice.
Sophie’s eyes widened. “I—beg your pardon?” she ventured, after a moment.
Robin surreptitiously unclenched his fists, willing himself back to calm. “If you were referring to Sir Lucas Nankivell, then—no. I would prefer not to do business with him.”
“Oh.” To his chagrin, Sophie was still eyeing him warily, as if he were a bomb about to explode. “Well, I suppose you may be right to feel so. Sir Lucas has never been known for having much of a head for business. It’s just that his family has such an old name in the county, and I know that can lend a bit more credibility to a project.”
Robin exhaled. “Forgive me. I did not mean to bite your head off. I’m aware that the Nankivells are a long-established family in St. Perran, but I feel there’s a certain—conflict of interest that would prevent any sort of profitable partnership between Nankivell and myself.”
“Conflict of interest?” she echoed blankly. “Over what?”
Over more things than you can imagine , Robin thought, looking into her lovely, uncomprehending face. Aloud he said, “I mentioned before that I’d inherited some railway shares from my grandfather. Nankivell recently approached me about acquiring them, but I am disinclined to sell.”
“I see. Well, then, what about James—as a possible investor, I mean?”
“Your cousin—the new earl? I thought he was having financial difficulties of his own.”
“Oh, he is, but that doesn’t necessarily rule him out as a potential backer. In fact, he might be even more receptive to your scheme because of his own situation.” Sophie paused, then added significantly, “He wrote in his last letter that he was courting a Miss Newbold from New York. We think she may be an heiress. And if they marry, he might be in a better position to invest in your hotel, especially if she supports the idea too. I’ve heard that Americans are great admirers of industry and entrepreneurship.”
“A possibility,” Robin conceded, “but let’s not count our chickens just yet. The lady might choose another. I’ve heard some heiresses won’t consider anyone lower than a duke.”
“Miss Newbold would be lucky to have James, even without a title!” Sophie declared staunchly. “Besides, he described her as lovely and charming, so she must
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