The Iron Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

twenty, and her low-pitched voice reminded him of a cool bubbling spring. Pale-gold hair was drawn from a centre parting into an elaborate coil at the back of her neck. As she closed the door and came towards him, her crinoline swayed gracefully. The fitted bodice of lace-trimmed cornflower silk curved from her bosom to define a delightfully slender waist.
    She smiled, and he was suddenly reminded of Natalia. That made no sense. They shared no physical similarity. Natalia was several inches taller and her hair raven-black. Natalia had brown eyes, while this girl’s were as blue as her gown. So what was it? What had he recognized? Impatiently, he pushed the thought away. But having expected to meet Sir Gerald, this additional distraction left him momentarily confused.
    ‘My husband is engaged at the moment but will join you very shortly. In the meantime may I offer you some refreshment?’
    Husband? James’s confusion deepened. He had expected her to say father. From the directors’ attitude when they spoke of Sir Gerald he had assumed the baronet was an elderly man. Yet with such a young wife … James cleared his throat, relieved that with his back to the window she was unlikely to be able to read his expression.
    ‘Thank you, but no.’ He’d had no lunch, and would have given his right arm for a stiff drink. However, if Sir Gerald Radclyff was as astute as the company solicitor intimated it was wiser to decline. He needed all his wits about him. Lady Radclyff’s unexpected arrival plus his own reaction to her had already thrown him off-balance. ‘I must apologize for calling unannounced.’
    ‘Please, there’s no need.’ She sat down and indicated that he should do the same. ‘My husband said you would come.’
    ‘Oh?’ James said carefully.
    Her brief smile was impish. ‘What he actually said was that Ingram Coles would be certain to send you instead of coming himself.’
    Amusement battled with astonishment at her frankness. ‘You’ve met the directors?’
    She nodded. ‘They came to dinner. They listed all the benefits the railway would bring and insisted we should be tremendously proud to be part of the grand march of progress.’
    ‘As indeed we should.’ James wondered how much longer Sir Gerald would be. He had little appetite for small talk. He was hungry and tired and had a great pile of paperwork waiting at an office he’d barely set foot in. Then, glancing up, he saw the glint of irony in her wide blue eyes and gentle smile. Awareness stirred, and beneath it … Was he mad? This was Sir Gerald Radclyff’s wife, for God’s sake. Appalled at his own weakness he ruthlessly suppressed all feeling.
    She tilted her head. ‘Is this progress worth the cost, Mr Santana? I’m not referring to money. I’m talking about the hundreds of men who have been maimed or killed on Cornish lines alone.’
    He cleared his throat again. ‘Lady Radclyff, given the scale of the work involved –’
    She raised a hand. ‘Please, no cliches.’ Again, her smile robbed her words of any offence. ‘I’ve heard them all. Especially the one about it being impossible to make an omelette without breaking eggs. We are talking about people, Mr Santana. Men with wives and families.’
    ‘Your concern does you great credit, but I assure you –’
    ‘Forgive me, Mr Santana, but I am involved with several charitable organizations and I’ve studied reports of the conditions in which these men live and work. I found them most disturbing.’
    James smothered a sigh. There was no doubting her sincerity. But why wouldn’t women confine themselves to those aspects of life to which they were best suited, the running of homes and raising of children? Their increasing determination to involve themselves in matters they did not understand was growing tiresome.
    ‘The work is dangerous,’ he agreed. ‘Which is why a navvy’s wage is correspondingly generous.’
    ‘Yes, the pay is good,’ she nodded, ‘while a man is