Chapter 246: Chapter Two Hundred And Forty Six
The dim light of the carriage lantern cast long, dancing shadows across Philip’s face, making his expression seem even colder. Lewis shifted uncomfortably on the seat opposite him, the weight of his own conscience a heavy burden.
"Your Grace," Lewis began, his voice hesitant but firm. "I don’t think that’s right."
Philip, who had been staring out at the darkened city streets, slowly turned his head. His eyes, barely visible in the gloom, were devoid of any warmth. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Lewis swallowed hard, knowing he was on thin ice, but he felt compelled to speak. "I mean, we didn’t check the quality of the dyes. We knew they were cheap, but we were trying to meet the deadline for the spring line collection. We were rushing, especially after using so much of the operating money to buy off the new port officials..."
"If you can’t handle this, get out," Philip cut him off, his voice sharp as broken glass. The sudden anger in his tone made Lewis flinch.
"What?" Lewis asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
"I said, get out," Philip repeated, his voice low and menacing. "A lot of people want to climb the ladder of success with me. Ambitious people. I believe I’ve said this before, right?"
Lewis was silent, his throat suddenly tight. He remembered the conversation well. It was a warning then, and it was a direct threat now.
"I don’t need someone who’s going to act like a saint, Lewis," Philip continued, leaning forward slightly. "I need someone who gets the job done. I don’t need a conscience."
"Your Grace, that’s not what I’m saying..." Lewis started, trying to backtrack, to explain that his concern was for the business, for their reputation.
But Philip had heard enough. With a swift, violent motion, he struck the silver head of his cane against the wooden floor of the carriage. The sharp crack echoed in the small space, a sound as final as a gunshot. It was an order to stop talking.
Lewis immediately fell silent. He lowered his head in submission, the fight draining out of him. "I’m sorry, Your Grace," he said, his voice quiet and defeated. "I misspoke."
Philip leaned back, the anger receding, replaced by a cold, appraising look. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Lewis replied quickly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I will make sure this never happens again. I will handle it as you commanded. I will write a letter to the agent immediately."
"Hurry up," Philip said, his gaze turning back to the window as the grand lights of the Carson mansion came into view. "Do it before Eric notices something is wrong."
"Yes, Your Grace," Lewis affirmed, relief and shame warring within him.
The carriage rolled to a smooth stop before the imposing entrance of the mansion. Philip stepped out, his expression once again composed and calm. He walked with purpose through the grand foyer and straight to the study, the sound of his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
As he reached the heavy oak doors, he heard his grandmother’s voice, sharp with anger. He paused, his hand on the doorknob.
"An accidental death? What in heaven’s name happened?" Elena’s voice rang out, followed by the sharp sound of her hand hitting the solid wood of the desk.
Philip pushed the door open and walked in. The scene was exactly as he had pictured. His grandmother, Dowager Duchess Elena , was sitting at the head of the large desk, her face a mask of displeasure. Eric was seated in another chair, his expression deeply troubled.
"Eric must have told her what happened,"Philip thought, a flicker of annoyance passing through him. He had hoped to control the narrative from the start.
He calmly cleared his throat, drawing their attention. He moved to his usual seat and sat down before answering his grandmother’s question. "It was a terrible accident that unfortunately turned out to be fatal," he began, his tone grave and sympathetic. "It’s a great tragedy, but from what the foreman said, the worker was not being as careful as he should have been around the machinery."
He folded his hands on the desk, the picture of a responsible leader dealing with a sad but manageable crisis. "The agent who hired him has already handled the accident circumstances and the compensation process for the family. It is all being taken care of."
Eric, who had been looking at Philip with a deeply suspicious gaze, spoke up. His voice was steady and clear. "You are going to end it at the agent’s investigation? As a textile establishment, we have a responsibility to understand the situation fully." He turned to his grandmother, his expression earnest.
"Grandmother, we should stop production and investigate this thoroughly. If the dyes are the problem, or the equipment, another worker could be hurt."
Philip scoffed internally but kept his expression serious. "Do you know how much of a loss we would incur from even one day of lost work?" he asked, turning the conversation from safety to finance.
"Is that what is important right now?" Eric shot back, his disbelief evident.
"Isn’t it?" Philip replied smoothly. He turned his focus back to his grandmother, knowing she would understand the language of profit and loss. "The workers who get paid by the day will miss their wages, leaving their families hungry. The patrons waiting for the spring collection will grow anxious because of the delay. And you know as well as I do that the gossip mongers and pamphleteers will be waiting in the shadows to tear our family’s reputation apart with rumors of unsafe working conditions."
He finished by looking directly at Eric, his eyes holding a subtle challenge. "Does Duke Eric want to take all of this risk, damage our business, and harm our workers, just to satisfy his own curiosity?"
The jab hit its mark. Eric’s face hardened, and he leaned forward in his chair. "Look here, Duke Philip!" he said, his voice rising in anger.
Philip raised a calming hand, though his eyes were cold. "Eric, if you have a personal issue with me, let us discuss it in private," he said, his tone perfectly reasonable. He was now performing for his grandmother, painting Eric as emotional and unprofessional. "There is no need to nitpick and cause a scene when important company business is going on."