Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,19
refusing to give it place inside her. With a furtive glance around, she stepped closer to him. “I’ve told you I cannot return your feelings.”
But her words did nothing to change the admiration in his gaze. “You’ve told me the reasons you should not return my feelings. That is not the same.”
Victoria opened her mouth to respond but found no rebuttal. She stood, fixed in his gaze, unable to move or reply for several long, silent moments before she turned away and strode across the drawing room to Mr. Oliver Kingsley’s side, slipping her arm around his and clinging to it like a buoy during a storm.
Chapter 7
Except for his mother or sister, Oliver had never held a lady’s arm in such a fashion until Miss Caswell, but it had become a comfortable, casual thing. Though the lady had taken him by surprise when she appeared at his side just then, her touch was a comfort. It grounded him, reminding him of the way things were. And what they ought to be.
Oliver flashed a smile at Miss Caswell, and though she returned it, there was a pinch of panic around her eyes, as though the happiness in her expression was feigned. With a curve of his brow, he sent her a silent question, but she merely held tighter to his arm with a dismissive shake of her head.
“It is a shame more was not done,” said Miss Caswell, turning her attention back to the discussion.
Following her lead, Oliver nodded and added, “We’d hoped the ten-hour workday might’ve been addressed, but it came for naught.”
“Unfortunately, there is little hope as long as Peel is Prime Minister,” replied Mr. Flemming. “He’s been vocal about his opposition to any bill that shortens the workday.”
“Then the fight is over for now,” said the eldest Mr. Dosett, tucking his hands behind him. “I must say it is for the best. It is not right for the government to meddle in such affairs. What right do we have to shorten the workday of someone willing to do more?”
“Ten hours is more than a full day,” replied Oliver. “It is more time than their masters are willing to work.”
“Hear, hear,” added Mr. Dixon as he moved to join their discussion.
“But I know of masters who work just as long, if not longer hours than their workers,” said Mr. Dosett. “If they are willing to put such effort into their factories and mills, why is it wrong for them to expect their workers to do the same?”
“The master chooses to work long hours, but the same is not true of their workers,” said Oliver. “It is wrong to give the lower class no option but to work excruciating hours or lose their position altogether. Besides, it is in the masters’ best interest to shorten workdays.”
Mr. Dosett barked a laugh. “I’ve heard some strange claims in my days, but I cannot fathom how shortening production hours is in their best interest.”
The gentleman’s words may have sounded like a challenge, but there was a lightness to his tone that conveyed interest. True, it was laden with incredulity; however, Oliver took no offense at the earnest expression of doubt.
“It may sound illogical at first, but many seemingly illogical propositions prove sensible once implemented,” said Oliver with a smile. “My uncle owns a cotton mill, and I’ve heard him expound at length about the dangers of exhausted workers. Longer hours mean more injuries and deaths.”
Though his gaze did not leave Mr. Dosett, Oliver felt Miss Caswell’s eyes lighten and sparkle as she gazed at him.
“Ask any mill or factory owner,” continued Oliver, “and they would tell you the same thing: more accidents happen at the end of the workday than at the beginning. Beyond that, the speed and quality of the product produced are reduced. So, I would ask you, what benefit is it to masters to keep twelve-hour workdays when their workers are less efficient and more likely to be injured?”
Mr. Dosett’s brows rose. “And here I thought you were of an altruistic bent, but you are a capitalist with an eye for long-term investment.”
“Don’t be fooled, Mr. Dosett,” said Miss Caswell. “Mr. Kingsley’s motivations are pure, but that does not preclude him from seeing it from a practical standpoint.”
Mr. Flemming clapped a hand on Mr. Dosett’s shoulder. “Come on, admit it. You’ve been beaten.”
Giving a conciliatory nod of his head, Mr. Dosett bowed towards Oliver. “I’m still not convinced it’s the government’s right to meddle in commerce.”