Mr Fairclough's Inherited Bride. Georgie Lee

and the dinner arrangements with the panache of an experienced hostess. If she wore better dresses and did her hair in a more becoming fashion, she would be striking, but standing out, as Silas had learned during the three months that she’d lived with Richard, was not her habit. Instead, she remained discreetly present, understanding the gravity of what Richard and Silas were trying to accomplish and coyly doing all she could to help them achieve it.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ Tibbs straightened and Silas was certain Lady Mary would like whatever Tibbs selected for her. Silas couldn’t speak to her tastes for he’d never enjoyed a private conversation with her beyond the weather. Despite them both being from England, she didn’t hail from the same barely respectable part of London that Silas did. Thankfully, most Yanks didn’t recognise the subtle difference in their accents, all to Silas’s benefit. The higher up the social ladder they believed him to be, the more favourably they viewed him and his wild ideas.

      ‘Gentlemen, here’s to us and the future success of the Baltimore Southern’s expansion.’ Richard raised his brandy glass, the level of the liquid inside of it as unchanged as Silas’s glass. The guests raised their drinks in answer, offering up a supportive cheer that made Silas smile. They’d secured the investors, even Mr Penniman who smiled at Lady Mary as widely as he did whenever his horse placed first in a race. Silas drained his brandy and motioned for Tibbs to refill it, ready to celebrate before tomorrow and the hard work began.

      ‘We did it.’ Silas relaxed into the leather wing-backed chair in Richard’s study and stretched his feet towards the roaring fire in the grate. The study was an impressive room full of fine wood furniture and leather chairs where Richard had spent years building up his wealth through various business ventures, though it was the railroads that were closest to his heart, as they were to Silas’s. Silas had been speechless the first time he’d stood in here, having stepped off the boat from England the day before, and he’d promised himself that one day he’d have a room like this. It was a pleasure to sit in this chair tonight and think of his study at home and how he’d achieved almost every goal he’d set for himself since leaving Liverpool nearly five years ago.

      ‘Not we, you.’ Richard removed his handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into it.

      ‘They wouldn’t have supported me if it weren’t for your influence.’ Silas traced the bottom of his brandy glass, wishing his ideas could stand on his reputation and merit, but he had yet to cultivate that kind of influence. More years in Baltimore establishing roots and a string of successes as long as the Baltimore Southern’s tracks would earn him the respect he craved. Until then, he was thankful for Richard’s influence and every opportunity he’d provided Silas since Silas had arrived in America. Without Richard, Silas would still be the penniless, prospectless nobody he’d been when he’d left Liverpool. Silas tapped his glass with the pad of his finger. He’d never be that man again. ‘I’ve already applied to the English patent owner for permission to build his locomotive here. Given what we’ve already invested in the steam works, it needs to start producing engines as soon as possible.’

      The rails manufactured in the new foundry could be sold to other railroads to offset the cost of the Baltimore Southern’s investment, but stronger, faster engines were the real key to railroad’s future. Silas wished there were better American models to be had, but his adopted country had yet to produce a winning design. In time he was sure they would, but at present he needed the rights to the British one.

      ‘That engine will take the Baltimore Southern to new heights and success.’ Richard inhaled, the air rattling through his chest. ‘But sooner than any of us would like, you’ll have to win over investors without me.’

      ‘You aren’t thinking of retiring, are you?’ Richard lived for his work.

      ‘I’m dying, Silas.’

      The same tightening of his stomach that’d almost made him retch ten years ago when his mother had stepped out of his father’s sickroom to hand Silas his father’s signet ring hovered about him like the heat from the fire. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘I consulted a number of medical men while I was in Philadelphia, the best in the country. They confirmed what I’ve suspect for some time.’

      ‘That can’t be.’ Silas hadn’t missed the coughing or the gradual thinning of Richard’s body over the last year, but he’d ignored it and everything it meant, hoping it wasn’t true, willing it to not be true. ‘There must be some treatment here or in Europe. They’re more advanced there than most of the quacks here who still think bleeding is the cure for everything.’

      ‘No, Silas, you and I can struggle and strive against a great many things, but not this.’ Richard sank into his chair, his slender body almost engulfed by the rich leather. ‘I only regret that I won’t be able to see the transcontinental railroad you envision. You’re a dreamer, with a knack for making them come true, and I’m proud of you for it and for everything you’ve done since you first showed up on my doorstep with a letter of introduction from Jasper King and little more than a worn suit and a couple of British pounds. I took a chance that you were worthy of Jasper’s trust and mine, and you’ve proven me right at every turn. You’ve gone from someone with nothing to part-owner of a railroad with a tidy income of your own that will only grow a great deal larger after tonight.’

      ‘Don’t curse us. All we have are their promises. We don’t have their money yet or the tracks laid or the patent to the English steam engine.’ Silas took a deep pull of brandy. Apparently, they didn’t have a future together in the venture either. No, many people lived with consumption for years, there was no reason to think Richard couldn’t, too.

      ‘I don’t mean the railroad. I have no children, no wife, my life spent married to my business and increasing my fortune. There are days when I think that was a mistake, until I see you.’ He reached over and laid a fatherly hand on Silas’s arm. ‘You’re like a son to me, Silas, I don’t want to see the same loneliness befall you.’

      ‘It won’t. In time, I’ll marry.’ Matrimony was not uppermost in his mind tonight, or any other night as of late.

      ‘I also don’t want to have what I’ve built up fall to pieces. I’m leaving you not only my share of the railway, but almost all of my estate.’

      ‘I don’t want it.’

       Or deserve it.

      He didn’t wish to make his fortune by inheriting it from his mentor.

      ‘I still insist you have it, at least everything I’m not leaving to Lady Mary. She’ll get the house and a tidy financial settlement. It would mean the world to me if you’d look after her when I’m gone. She may not be related to me by blood, but she did a great deal for my sister in her last years and she’s brought me immense comfort over these past three months. I want to leave her with a secure future so she never has to want or worry about anything.’

      ‘Of course I’ll make sure she and her investments are well protected.’ Silas watched the flames in the grate leap and fall as they consumed the log. He understood the importance of protecting those he cared about. The cheques he regularly sent home to England supported his mother and sisters so that the donations to the Fairclough Foundation could continue to help the women in need. He threw back the rest of the brandy, the sting to his throat making his eyes water. Yes, he took care of his family with money, but little else. What else could they expect of him? He’d never wanted to be part of the Foundation, and if he hadn’t come here to work with Richard there wouldn’t be money to send home. It was the same circular thinking that plagued him every time he thought about how far away he was from his loved ones. He refilled his empty glass. Tonight, he had no patience for those old regrets.

      ‘But of course, money isn’t everything,’ Richard mused.

      ‘No, it isn’t.’ Silas set his drink on the table, all too familiar with that tone. The promise of a business proposal crackled in the air like the sap from the