Scandal in Spring by Lisa Kleypas Page A

Matthew muttered.
    Bowman let out a pleased laugh. "I want you to have the company," he insisted. It was the first time he had ever spoken this frankly on the subject. "You're more like me than any of my sons. The company will be far better off in your hands than anyone else's. You have a gift…an ability to enter a room and take it over…you fear no one, and they all know it, and they esteem you for it. Marry my daughter, Swift, and build my factory. By the time you come home, I'll give you New York."
    "Could you throw in Rhode Island? It's not very large."
    Bowman ignored the sardonic question. "I have ambitions for you beyond the company. I am connected with powerful men, and you have not escaped their notice. I will help you achieve anything your mind can conceive…and the price is a small one. Take Daisy and sire my grandchildren. That's all I ask."
    "That's all," Matthew repeated dazedly.
    When Matthew had begun to work for Bowman ten years ago, he had never expected the man would come to be a surrogate father to him. Bowman was like a barrel of explosives, short, round and so quick-tempered you could predict one of his infamous tirades by watching the top of his bald head turn fiery red. But Bowman was clever with numbers, and when it came to managing people he was incredibly shrewd and calculating. He was also generous to those who pleased him, and he was a man who kept his promises and fulfilled his obligations.
    Matthew had learned a great deal from Thomas Bowman, how to sniff out an opponent's weakness and turn it to his advantage, when to push and when to hold back…and he had learned, too, that it was all right to unleash his aggressiveness in business as long as he never crossed the line into outright rudeness. New York businessmen— the real ones, not the upper-class dilettantes— did not respect you unless you displayed a certain amount of contentiousness.
    At the same time Matthew had learned to temper his vigor with diplomacy after learning that winning an argument didn't necessarily mean he would get his way. Charm had not come easily to him, with his guarded nature. But he had painstakingly acquired it as a necessary instrument to do his job well.
    Thomas Bowman had backed Matthew every step of the way and had steered him through a couple of precarious deals. Matthew had been grateful for his guidance. And he couldn't help but like his prickly employer despite his faults— because there was some truth in Bowman's claim that they were alike.
    How a man like Bowman had produced a daughter like Daisy was one of life's great mysteries.
    "I need some time to consider this," Matthew said.
    "What is there to consider?" Bowman protested. "I've already said— " He stopped as he saw Matthew's expression. "All right. All right. I suppose there is no need for an immediate answer. We'll discuss it later."
    * * *
    "Did you speak to Mr. Swift?" Lillian demanded as Marcus entered their bedroom. She had dozed off while trying to wait up for him, and was struggling to a sitting position in the bed.
    "Oh, I spoke to him," Marcus replied ruefully, shrugging out of his coat. He laid the well-tailored garment across the arms of a Louis XIV chair.
    "I was right, wasn't I? He's abominable. Detestable. Tell me what he said."
    Marcus stared at his pregnant wife, who was so beautiful with her long hair unbound and her eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep that it made his heart skip a beat. "Not yet," he murmured, half-sitting on the bed. "First I want to stare at you for a while."
    Lillian smiled and scrubbed her hands through her wild dark mane. "I look a fright."
    "No." He moved closer, his voice lowering. "Every part of you is lovely." His hands slid gently over the abundant curves of her body, soothing rather than arousing. "What can I do for you?" he whispered.
    She continued to smile. "One glance at me will reveal that you've done quite enough already, my lord." Encircling him with her slender arms, she let him rest his