**Chapter 3.
The Man Who Came on Time**
“Where have you been? Everyone’s waiting for you. I told you to cool your head for a while, not disappear completely.”
Rufus grumbled as he hurried his master along. Christopher had never been late before, but today he showed up only when the party was about to begin.
“The Prime Minister is waiting, and Lady Cecile asked for you several times.”
Rufus showed no sign of stopping his nagging.
“You should be nicer to Lady Cecile. You’re going to be engaged to her anyway.”
“You’re not my nanny. I don’t need that kind of advice.”
Christopher’s indifferent reply made Rufus sigh.
“My lord, please listen to me just for today. A nun came begging to see you, and my head is about to split from the noise.”
“A nun came?”
Christopher asked sharply, and Rufus tilted his head.
“Nothing’s different from before. Except this time, she knelt down and begged.”
Christopher’s hand, adjusting his bow tie in front of the mirror, paused. There were faint scratch marks near his neck.
—
The party gathered the Prime Minister, cabinet ministers, and nobles. It was a place where the elite gathered to talk business and make deals.
“Lord Belmore, I’ve been looking for you.”
“Prime Minister.”
The Prime Minister’s eyes widened when he saw Christopher.
“I hear you acquired the glass factory in Every. Your business sense is remarkable.”
Lord Belmore had not only inherited a long noble lineage but also gained enormous wealth, like those who had crossed to the New World.
“I believed demand would rise once the glass tax is lifted.”
Christopher spoke humbly, giving the credit to the Prime Minister.
It was true that the information the Prime Minister had shared was useful. And since the man aimed for reelection, he would keep providing valuable information.
“The repeal of the tax was something everyone wanted.”
The Prime Minister sipped his champagne, pretending not to know anything, and Christopher nodded.
Like his grandfather Archibald, he was steadily building power for himself.
“There’s a lot of talk that the exposition won’t go as planned.”
The Prime Minister tapped his glass. Recently, countries everywhere were rushing to host World Expositions. Prime Minister Hobart had also declared one, but the schedule was too tight.
“At this rate, we’ll end up setting up tents instead of buildings.”
That was his way of pressing for help—whether money or even a few bricks.
“I know an architect who might make it possible.”
It was foolish to throw money at something just to carve your name on a brick. Christopher knew it was wiser to give something rare and valuable so the receiver would be truly grateful.
“And who is that?”
“An architect named Joseph Paxton.”
“Never heard of him.”
The Prime Minister frowned. Christopher, expecting that reaction, added calmly:
“He’s excellent at building quickly and beautifully, even under strict conditions.”
The phrase *quickly under strict conditions* caught the Prime Minister’s attention.
In the end, he accepted Christopher’s suggestion.
Just then, Cecile Hobart, who had been chatting with friends, approached shyly.
“Father, are you holding Lord Belmore hostage with boring politics again?”
The combination of the Prime Minister’s daughter and the handsome young noble drew every eye.
“Lord Belmore, it’s been a while.”
Cecile smiled shyly at him.
“Lady Hobart, thank you for coming.”
Christopher lightly kissed the lace glove on her hand.
“Shall we take a walk?”
“This old mansion has turned into something so beautiful. It’s amazing.”
Cecile quickly agreed to his suggestion.
The Prime Minister watched them with satisfaction. A northern noble like Belmore was an attractive match—perhaps more than anyone in the capital.
The barren northern land had long been mocked, but times were changing. Now factories filled the wasteland, and minerals underground had become gifts from God.
The wealth Archibald Belmore had built in finance had been greatly multiplied by his grandson Christopher.
And the Belmore Hotel, built to erase the “potato-eating north” image, had made Christopher the most famous man in the capital.
For the Prime Minister, who lacked funds, and for Christopher, who lacked southern connections, this marriage with Cecile was a perfect political move.
Their engagement was nothing more than a pretty cover for money and politics.
While walking through the garden, Christopher suddenly handed Cecile a small velvet box.
“What’s this?”
Inside, an emerald necklace sparkled—the same color as Cecile’s eyes.
“I wanted you to see it first.”
“My goodness! It’s beautiful.”
The size and brilliance made it look like it came from the Queen’s treasury.
“A gift to the Hobart family.”
Cecile turned her neck for him, and Christopher fastened it smoothly.
*‘If the Queen had a daughter, she would have wanted him for her.’*
He always behaved like a man destined for greatness, and Cecile often fell for that image. She toyed with the necklace, hoping to create a romantic mood, but Christopher felt nothing except dull patience.
Their silence was broken by a sudden voice.
“My lord! Oh… you’re with the lady.”
“It’s fine. What is it?”
Christopher even seemed pleased by Rufus’s interruption. Cecile, however, felt like she was the one intruding. Still, as a clever lady, she knew to step back.
“There’s no need to rush. I’ll leave you two to your business.”
She left gracefully, believing she had time to win him over.
As soon as she was gone, Christopher asked Rufus:
“Rufus, where on earth did you buy that necklace?”
Rubbing his temple, he looked annoyed. Rufus replied with ease:
“Don’t blame the shop. I chose it carefully from the most famous jeweler in Hatton Garden.”
“I wish you’d picked something more modest.”
“Then you should have chosen it yourself. A man needs to show at least that much effort if he wants to court a lady.”
“You really think this is about romance?”
Rufus sighed, sounding defeated.
“My lord, you’d make an excellent stage actor. At the charity performance, I’m sure you’ll raise enough money to fund ten orphanages with that face and acting skills.”
Christopher ignored his sarcasm and spoke in a businesslike tone:
“Bring Joseph Paxton tomorrow. We’ll visit the Prime Minister’s residence.”
“You’ve already won him over, haven’t you?”
Rufus shook his head in disbelief.
—
The meeting for the World Exposition design was tense. Joseph Paxton, introduced by Belmore, brought a bold blueprint.
“It just looks like a giant greenhouse. And where will you even get all that glass?”
Minister of International Development Michael Lotz voiced strong opposition. The Prime Minister cleared his throat. It was Christopher’s turn to speak.
“This is the age of iron. Brick buildings can’t impress anyone anymore.”
The room buzzed with murmurs. Christopher’s purpose was nearly achieved.
“Our Belmore Company has just succeeded in mass–producing large glass panels. For the exposition, we’ll supply them at lower profit.”
The offer stunned the room. Though it meant losing money now, the publicity after the exposition would be priceless.
With that, all resistance crumbled. Even the budget issue was solved.
After the meeting, the Prime Minister pulled Christopher aside with a satisfied look. Christopher expected talk about the exposition or his engagement with Cecile—but he was wrong.
“The convent. When are you getting rid of it?”
Christopher’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
The Prime Minister had helped in many ways for the hotel project, but meddling in such details was overstepping.
“Those bothersome nuns have been writing letters. And damn Phil Gordon sniffed it out.”
If Gordon, the Prime Minister’s political rival, got involved, it would be serious. First he’d attack Belmore, then the Prime Minister who backed him.
Speaking barely above a whisper, the Prime Minister continued:
“He’s telling other MPs that my daughter’s fiancé threatens poor nuns.”
“That matter—”
Christopher tried to reply, but the Prime Minister cut him off.
“In November’s Parliament, this will definitely come up. Gordon is digging into who stopped the convent from getting approval to keep orphans.”
The Prime Minister’s face twisted with worry.
Saint Margarita’s Convent had met every requirement but still failed to get approval.
Of course, Belmore had blocked it—cutting off their funding and holding the orphans hostage until the nuns gave up.
But if Phil Gordon had caught the scent… the nuns had chosen their ally well.
“Lord Belmore, I want this handled quietly. Silence them completely.”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
The Prime Minister finally relaxed.
“The gift you sent my daughter was wonderful.”
“It was nothing.”
“She thinks highly of you, as do I. I’d like us all to go riding soon.”
“I’ll prepare a fine horse. One she’ll enjoy.”
The Prime Minister smiled in satisfaction.
—
Christopher returned to the hotel with Joseph Paxton, who was still buzzing with excitement.
“It’s all thanks to you, my lord. I never dreamed I’d be designing the World Exposition hall…”
“Save your thanks until the plans are finished. I’ll give you space in the hotel penthouse to work.”
Joseph adjusted his glasses nervously.
“But the penthouse is your office…”
“For now, I’ll stay in the cheapest room. I need to inspect the hotel myself.”
Hotel inspectors usually stayed in the cheapest rooms and judged the service from there. Christopher planned to do the same before their arrival.
“My lord, what about dinner? And… the nuns requested to see you again.”
Rufus placed the key to Room 301 on the console.
“I’ll eat in the room. I need to read the business reports. As for the nuns…”
The room was decent enough, though it faced the convent attic.
“Don’t let them in.”
The Prime Minister’s order had just sealed the convent’s fate.
