Page 24 of Love with a Notorious Rake

“On that point,” Julian stated, “it is still a work in progress. I do have several donors lined up. It’s a matter of where we would like to locate it. Be assured, Megan, I will include you in the meetings when they occur.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” She beamed.

“And quickly,” Garrett interjected. “I have received word from Dr. Bevan confirming that the first medical graduate from Oxford will arrive for training in Standon at the end of June, with another joining them at the end of August. Both young men will be staying in Abbie and Megan’s former home.”

At the mention of the Bevan name, Aidan’s heart ached with regret. After time to reflect, he’d come to the conclusion that he had handled the situation with Cristyn as clumsily as one man could. She never left his thoughts, day or night. What could he do about it? How many mornings had he awoken to an aching erection because she’d haunted his dreams?

“Do you have all that, Martin?” his grandfather asked, pulling Aidan away from his thoughts.

The butler, seated once again, was scribbling frantically. “I do, my lord.”

“Good. I believe I have found a mill to serve our purposes. It is in an area that is suffering grinding poverty. The queen has started an inquiry and sent a man to investigate. The main industries in the area are the making of boots and stockings, usually done in people’s homes from rented stocking frames, and the cotton mill, which is the only factory in the vicinity.” His grandfather took a sip of tea while he referred to his papers. “It is called Morris Mill, a medium-sized enterprise, owned and operated by Rupert McRae. While no formal complaints have been registered, there are a lot of whisperings of rampant abuse, including mistreatment of the workers, underpayment of wages, long hours, safety violations, and the like.”

“How is he getting away with it?” Abbie asked.

“There are only four factory inspectors for the whole of England, for starters. We are working in parliament to increase that number tenfold, and for that provision to be included in the next revision of the Factory Act,” his father replied.

“Many workers do not report these violations for fear of losing their employment,” his grandfather interjected. “Not only is poverty rampant in the area, but so is crime involving poaching game—no doubt because of hunger. It is not safe to go out after dark, for robbery is rife as well.” His grandfather caught his gaze. “After hearing all this, Aidan, do you still wish to insert yourself into this dire situation?”

“I do. While there, I can gather enough information to see this Mr. McRae is held accountable for his various violations.”

“Excellent. His present overseer will be met with a dire family emergency, and will have to leave the country for two months. Your name, Aidan Black, will be put forward in his stead for temporary employment,” his father said.

Aidan’s eyebrows shot up. “How are you going to arrange this?”

His grandfather chuckled. “The wheels are already in motion. This overseer will do as bidden if he wishes to have employment the future. After all, he has a wife and five children; he does not want to be ruined, nor invoke the wrath of an earl and a viscount.”

Aidan laughed. “You would never ruin the man.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Garrett stated. “But beyond the particulars, this sounds as if it could turn into a dangerous circumstance.”

“We will put provisions in place for Aidan’s safety. You’ve been reading up on the various rules and laws regarding mills and factories the past two weeks?” his father asked.

Aidan nodded. “Yes, I have.”

“Excellent. You will train on the spinning looms and carding equipment for a couple of weeks, as well as learn the inner workings of a cotton mill.”

“Where is this place? You never said.”

His grandfather referred to his papers. “I didn’t? Well, let’s see…here it is. It is located about one hundred and forty miles north and west of here, in Leicestershire. The name of the village is Earl Shilton.”

Chapter 7

Gazing out the window, Cristyn watched as the countryside passed by. She had never been on a train, and she had been excited to learn she would be traveling on one partway. The train would go as far as Hinckley, which was five miles from Earl Shilton. Cristyn was an independent woman, and how thrilling to be making the journey on her own.

Once Cristyn’s father wrote to Dr. Middlemiss, all had fallen into place quickly. It was agreed that Cristyn would be billeted with a widow whose residence was located near his practice.

She and her father managed to mend the fracture between them before her departure—not that it was much of a crack. Cristyn had been more annoyed at his interference than truly angry. Though she had a quick temper, she believed life was difficult enough without holding grudges. Her father had pressed several pound notes in her hand before she left and made her promise to keep them well hidden, and to write if she needed further funds.

Steam expelled and the shrill whistle blew as they pulled up to the recently constructed train station. To think that one day all of Great Britain would be accessible by rail. Cristyn scanned the platform, trying to speculate which person was Paris Middlemiss. Standing in the rear of the crowd was a tall, slim man with sandy blond hair and spectacles. This must be him. Cristyn grabbed her small case and opened the door of the train car.

The bespectacled man stepped forward. “Miss Bevan?”

“Yes. You are Dr. Middlemiss?”

He smiled. My, what delicate, attractive features. He looked younger than forty-eight years. His eyes were the darkest brown; she could not make out the iris from the pupil. The color was a startling contrast against his fair hair. “I am. Please, call me Paris when we are alone. I am pleased to meet you.” He took her case. “You have more luggage?”

“Yes, a small trunk. Ah, there it is.” They strolled along the platform toward the baggage car, where the porters were unloading. “And I am pleased to meet you, Paris. Dad spoke highly of you.”