Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Sword Princess by Suzette Hollingsworth

I’m quite certain we will completely adore your lovely niece, Mr. . .”   Her facial expression changed in an instant to a saintly sweetness, her good will towards him much improved, and he observed her eyeing with considerable sentimentality the wad of bills he had placed on her desk.
    “Carnegie,” Sherlock replied, tipping his silk top hat before removing it.   “Lochlan Carnegie.”
    “ Carnegie ?   By chance, are you a relation of Andrew Carnegie, the American tycoon, sir?   I believe he has Scottish roots?”   Her breathing became more rapid.
    Sherlock took care to neither answer nor refute her assumption.   He pulled out his gold pocket watch and looked at it.   He then straightened his white silk tie, smoothing his false beard and well-oiled walrus moustache, before replying.   “My niece does some type of volunteer work, at an orphanage, I believe it is.   Only a few hours a week.   And we must be allowed to visit her—my associate, Hamish, and I.   She is most dear to us—an orphan herself you know, with only her two sinfully rich bachelor uncles to look to.”   He smiled his most winning smile, which by all accounts was not particularly winning.   It was hoped that a belief in his massive wealth enhanced his charm.   “ Miss de Beauvais, is it?”
    “Oh, I am sorry, that is out of the question, Mr. Carnegie.”   Her lips quivered but remained tightly held together.   “Once the girls enter it is a closed-door policy.   The girls are all required to stay here for the duration of their ten week term with little contact from the outside except that which we provide—under strict chaperonage, of course.   It is a very intensive class and is completed just in time for the Christmas holiday—at which time they may return home for a few weeks.   The final semester commences upon their return and ends in their coming out for the season as elegant, sophisticated young ladies, just in time for their presentation to Queen Victoria and all the accompanying balls and dinner parties.”
    “And by elegant and sophisticated, I presume you mean marriageable ?” Sherlock asked, emphasizing the word as he leaned closer toward her.   He could tell that she was attracted to either him or his money; he meant to discover which and to use that information to his advantage.
    “Naturally.”   She nodded agreement.   “This is my pledge to you.”   The young female entrepreneur wore a gown of orange silk which somehow blended in this frighteningly busy room of green, maroon, and orange.   One was of the impression that Miss de Beauvais could not enter a room unless she were a perfect compliment to the décor—and that she must control everyone and everything in her environment.
    Sherlock locked eyes across the desk with the business owner staring back at him whom he guessed had an unyielding will to rival his own.   Two confirmed bachelors as it were.
    So much alike, they should have been a match.   Except for the fact that he detested her, which was perhaps a commentary on why he disliked to be alone in his own company unless he was focused on a case.  
    There was a significant difference in the expression of his and Miss de Beauvais’ similar characteristics, however:   her existence was completely devoted to the superficial aspects of life—and to herself.   His dealt with the harsh realities—and to the service of society.
    Sherlock asked himself, as he often had, if it would not be more profitable to be the criminal than to side with the law.  
    Naturally .   No one can beat me .   Sherlock knew very well that he could succeed as a criminal.   Far stupider people had.  
    But it was never about the money for him:   it was the occupation.   And I love my country .   He might not love his fellow man, but he would be on the side of right.   Otherwise he could easily foresee the downfall of civilization.
    Sherlock took another wad of bills and placed it on the table.   “Will