Tony found him with Jeffrey Sloane and it was patently obvious they were up to their elbows in paperwork. “Sorry to interrupt you,” Tony muttered, “but it just occurred to me I bought cargo from the Continent to sell in London.”
Savage waved a negligent hand. “Already resold the champagne at two hundred percent profit. If you want an exact tally, Sloane will provide it.”
“No, no. I’m not worried about profits.”
“Then you should be,” Savage said shortly.
“Well, then I am. I was just trying to be polite,” Tony countered.
“You have a decision to make about the wigs. You can dispose of the entire shipment to a hair wholesaler or you can set up a wig lottery in Rosemary Lane. The masses who can’t afford them are always willing to wager a bob or two, which is one of the reasons they can’t afford them in the first place. Profits are enormous, but it’s a time-consuming business.”
“Well, you’re the expert at this import-export thing. Might as well sell them to the wholesaler.”
“Good decision. We’ll make a businessman of you yet.”
The butler reappeared. “There is a young woman below to see you, Mr. Savage. I tried to discourage her, but she insists it’s a matter of grave import.”
“Christ, what next? Well, show her up. The more the merrier!”
Jeffrey Sloane excused himself, as he had obviously been trained to do when a female came calling.
To Adam and Tony’s surprise the visitor was Dolly from the Olympian Theater. Her mouth was set in a grim little line, although her eyes suddenly widened when she saw Lord Lamb. She hesitated only a moment, then straightened her shoulders and plunged in. “I’m in the family way, an’ Lord Lamb is the father!”
“Why, you lying little bitch!” Tony cried, slapping her in the face.
In a flash Adam Savage backhanded Tony across the mouth, knocking her into a chair and sending it flying across the office. In a biting voice he said, “Never strike a woman again in my presence, you arrogant young swine!”
Tony’s eyes were liquid with tears and she pressed the back of her hand against her swollen mouth.
Dolly’s eyes were glittering with avarice. Savage had immediately jumped to her defense and that must mean he believed her tale.
“Sit down, both of you,” Savage commanded.
Antonia was pierced to the heart that Adam had actually struck her.
“I told you to stay out of scrapes, but I suppose that’s asking too much of a blue-blooded young rakehell such as yourself!” He dismissed Tony with a searing look of contempt and turned his attention to Dolly.
“Has your condition been confirmed by a doctor?”
“Yes, sir,” Dolly said firmly, her chin in the air.
“Well, since you know marriage is out of the question, I presume you came for money.”
Dolly bit her lip. It would have been really something to be wed to a lord and called Lady Lamb, but she’d known all along she couldn’t intimidate a man like Indian Savage. He’d hit the nail right on the head. She’d come for money.
“I shan’t pay you a goddamn penny!” Tony asserted. “Why the hell didn’t you come to me? I’ll tell you why … because the whole thing is a barefaced lie. You came running to my guardian because you’re after money and you know he controls the purse strings.”
“I came to Mr. Savage because I believed he’d do what was right!”
“And just how much do you think would be right, Dolly?” Savage asked quietly.
She took a deep breath. “Five thousand.”
Savage laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. He scribbled a note payable on his bank and handed it to her. “Two thousand sounds about right to me, Dolly; give or take a thousand.”
She tucked it into her reticule and dried her eyes. She’d only hoped for a thousand and would have settled for half. As she stood to leave, Adam Savage fixed her with his glacial, ice-blue eyes.
“It is understood this is the last we shall hear of the matter.”