Chapter 52 Return to London 14 The Duke of Ashwood

Lancaster happened to know that he loved to collect gossip about various politicians and nobles when he was bored, so that he could use their leverage to his advantage when needed.

"Well, it's hard to get gossip about him, but I do know quite a bit. For example, he and his wife were married for personal gain, and he had many mistresses, his favorite being the sister of a plant hunter. Furthermore, he had no children and was completely devoted to his botanical empire. The king loved him, but the regent wasn't very supportive, feeling that he wasted unnecessary money introducing new species, and that many of the plants were neither profitable nor looked good in the palace."

"Huh?" Heather was incredulous. What kind of foolish talk was that? "I must state that studying plant science is extremely necessary. Science is a continuous process of progress. Even plants that seem useless now may have unimaginable impacts in the future. Take the calla lily, for example..."

Heather was so lost in her ramblings that Lancaster's hand, gripping the silver fork, paused in mid-air, the macaron on it completely forgotten. The woman across from him was citing a third example, peppered with obscure terms like extraction rate and molecular structure.

Lancaster put down his fork and unconsciously rubbed his fingertips against the warm wall of the cup. He thought that the light in her eyes when she talked about plants and flasks was even hotter than when she heard that she had successfully inherited 100,000 pounds.

Heather finally finished her speech and took a sip of hot chocolate with satisfaction.

Snap, snap.

Heather's heart skipped a beat, and she subconsciously glanced around. Fortunately, the other guests were seated sparsely, and no one paid any attention to the sudden applause. She breathed a sigh of relief, looking away, and then met Lancaster's smiling eyes again.

"No need to applaud..." Heather shyly shrank back, suddenly feeling like she was giving a PPT presentation at university.

Lancaster then changed the subject: "So, do you agree to cooperate with her? What exactly do you want to cooperate on?"

Mentioning this, Heather became excited again. "She agreed. She actually just wants to do business with me. I can keep the lion's share of the profits, and she can provide money and people. In addition, her reputation and connections as Mrs. Banks can also endorse me to attract customers. Her only request is that once our business becomes bigger and stronger, I actively publicize her role in it. Expand her reputation as Dorothea, not Mrs. Banks."

"So she wants to become famous," Lancaster thought thoughtfully. "That makes sense. But she's actually looking for you to do business with? I thought she wouldn't easily touch such things for the sake of her status in high society."

Lancaster actually thought that Heather would use her status as the earl's widow to integrate into upper society as much as possible, instead of using the time she spent attending balls to think about business matters.

The Industrial Revolution fueled the rise of commercial capital, allowing some merchants to integrate into high society through marriage. However, the aristocratic social circles remained exclusive to merchants and their families, prioritizing ancestry, land, and titles.

"Yes, this is indeed a troublesome matter." Hazel knew that in the social circle, a down-and-out aristocrat like Mr. Hurst was definitely more prestigious than a wealthy man like Mr. Bingley. "So I came up with a great idea."

"That's to package it as something scientific and elegant, something that brings pleasure to the body and mind!" Heather pulled a brochure from her lap and showed it to Lancaster. "Actually, what I want to do is plant aromatherapy. Simply put, it's distilling and purifying essential oils from plants, and then designing products and services targeting middle- and upper-class ladies using their different effects, such as calming the nerves and reducing inflammation, beautifying the skin, and relieving headaches."

Heather flipped to the second page of her notebook, where she had a plan she'd carefully thought out for a long time. "I'm thinking of choosing a villa as my business space. It'll not only provide private services but also serve as a social venue. Perhaps we could adopt an invitation-only system. That would be very different from running a shop. It could barely be considered a salon, right? Besides, Mrs. Banks said she's sure her husband wouldn't take such 'womanly stuff' seriously, so he wouldn't bother to stop it."

Lancaster took the notebook and flipped through it carefully, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "A very novel idea. It can both circumvent questions about my identity and utilize Mrs. Banks's connections."

"Right?!" Heather felt Lancaster understood her well. Such a good idea truly needed an audience. "Mrs. Banks must have been convinced of the idea after seeing the cold tincture I gave her while she was waiting at Miss Wellesley's house. Anyway, she's already agreed to invest £1,000 in me."

Heather couldn't help but sigh, "Oh, I'm a genius. This is a really interesting idea. Now, I just need to prepare all the tools for extracting essential oils, and then we can get started."

Lancaster heard his opportunity and immediately said, "I can help you with the tools. Since it involves commercial secrets, it's better not to go through the guild."

Heather closed the notebook and said casually, "Oh, that's not a problem for you. I've already found a suitable middleman and received the first batch of distilling tools yesterday."

Heather hadn't expected Theodore to be so reliable. Three days later, she sent Reina to the Hummingbird Tavern to inquire about the progress. Theodore actually brought out the finished product. Upon inspection, Heather discovered that the distiller was almost identical to her drawings, even with some improvements. So, she quickly sent Reina back with new drawings and other requirements.

"Middleman? What middleman?"

Lancaster couldn't believe someone had snatched his job away. This time, he'd invited her out under the pretext of the dessert shop, but he didn't know what excuse he'd use next time. Perhaps sabotaging Darcy's canal project would be helpful?

Heather didn't notice his strangeness. "I was also introduced by coincidence. It was an information dealer in the tavern. He did have some connections in these kinds of things. You are different. Your circle is higher-level, and the people you come into contact with are different."

Lancaster could only admit it reluctantly. Even though he had once had a rebellious period to escape the class he was born into, he had never truly entered the lower class world.

"Information dealer? Does knowing the home address of a down-and-out blacksmith count as intelligence?" Lancaster walked briskly along the greenway leading to Buckingham Palace. "Honestly, what can be called intelligence is at least aristocratic secrets or military decisions, right?"

Evan lowered his head and almost ran away amid his boss's cold snort. He had long been accustomed to his boss's moodiness. Oh, actually, it was the "moody" with many styles and the "sunny" that only appeared a few times.

Horses are not allowed on the road in front of Buckingham Palace. Occasionally, officials or nobles passed by and simply saluted from a distance. No one came forward to talk to the Lord Chancellor, who looked unfriendly.

However, just because no one initiates a conversation doesn't mean no one will be stopped for a chat.

"Look, who is this? Isn't this the noble scientific tyrant, the master of the plant empire, Sir Banks?" Lancaster greeted Sir Banks from afar. Sir Banks had just come to the palace to seek funding for the next year, but was rejected by the Regent on the grounds that the treasury was empty.

Banks had just been fooled by that stupid ruler, and he was in a bad mood when he met anyone, but the person who stopped him made him unable to utter a word.

"Good day, Duke Ashwood. If you are going to see His Excellency the Regent, I don't think he is very available right now." In fact, the tyrant was busy playing with two maids and had no intention of taking care of business.

Lancaster gave him a fake smile. "Just because you're busy doesn't mean I'm busy too. Also, Sir Banks, although you've made great contributions to the empire, you should still cherish your reputation."

After Lancaster finished speaking, he left Banks clueless and walked away without looking back, leaving Banks standing there gasping for breath.

But Banks could do nothing after all. This young justice was not only a powerful official in the government, but also inherited his father's rare and noble title.

In addition, he himself had no worries and no normal hobbies, and he often took pleasure in randomly picking an official or noble he disliked and making trouble for them.

Not long ago, he seized evidence of corruption from a man in a divorce case, which not only sent the man to prison but also implicated several members of a certain party. However, anyone with a discerning eye knew that this justice was neither determined to uphold the authority of the law nor had he chosen his future team. What was truly going on in his mind remained unknown.

That evening, in his study, in front of his wife who was sorting his letters, Banks informed his trusted assistant to revise the speech he would give at the Royal Society next week, requiring him to remove the part about the research results obtained from Hessel and another scholar and only give a speech on his own results.

Although he didn't understand what Lancaster was trying to say, in order to avoid becoming that man's next target, he could only restrain his behavior temporarily.

Mrs. Banks frowned secretly at this unexpected turn of events. "In that case, do we need to get the money we paid back from Mrs. Lawrence?"

Sir Banks was more interested in the money he could earn from colonial mining than the three thousand pounds. "Why would I want to come back? I'll publish her findings someday, but I'm just holding off for now. Besides, it's only a few thousand pounds."

Mrs. Banks neatly sorted and categorized the hundreds of letters she had received today before casually saying, "I'm thinking of opening a new salon soon that specializes in using plants to alleviate some of women's basic discomforts. Because it's going to cost a bit, I'm thinking of doing it as a charity sale. What do you think?"

Sir Bankes, without even looking up, frowned and took the letter. "What's there to say? You can't even earn a hundred pounds a month. Humph, it's just a woman's petty fuss. You can handle it yourself, and remember not to delay the business."

Mrs. Banks curled her lips and quietly left the study.

After dealing with this stubborn and self-willed obstacle, their plan can officially begin.