She checked at the sight of him, but then she smiled and came on, joining him where he’d halted under the arch. “I’m glad I found you.”
He smiled back. “Good afternoon to you, too.”
She pulled a face at him. “Indeed—good afternoon, and I hope it will be one. I’m on my way to the Stannary Court.”
He raised his brows. “Do tell.”
Her lips quirked, but she immediately sobered. “I had a visit this morning from one of our tenant farmers. He and his brother were approached with an offer to buy their tin mining leases by the same agent as before. Both Kendrick and his brother have heard rumors—fresh rumors—that the mines are in financial trouble, but Kendrick had the nous to come and see me before they accepted.”
Eyes narrowing, she shook her head. “This can’t go on. Some farmers will sell simply because they’ve been frightened into thinking they should.”
“But why hie to the Stannary Court?”
Madeline met his eyes. “Because it occurred to me that whoever’s behind this might have succeeded in buying a few leases—ones from holders we don’t know or who haven’t asked around. If that’s so, then the clerk of the court would know of it, for he would have had to register the transfer of ownership.”
Gervase stared at her for a long moment, then he took her arm. “Brilliant.” Turning, he started along the pavement toward the court building beyond the inn; she fell into step beside him. “You’re absolutely right—excellent deduction.”
They walked a little way, then he looked ahead to where stone steps led up to the double doors of the Stannary Court. “Of course, the clerk isn’t supposed to happily volunteer information regarding a new owner.”
“No, he isn’t.” Glancing at him, she met his amber eyes. “That’s why I was so glad I found you.”
His lips curved. “You think, between us, that we’ll be able to convince the clerk of where his true loyalties lie?”
Reaching the steps, she drew her arm free to raise her skirts. “I’d be very much surprised if, between us, we couldn’t.”
She climbed the steps and marched into the foyer, entirely confident with him at her back.
On the other side of the road, Malcolm Sinclair remained facing the bow window of the apothecary’s shop. Via the reflection in the glass, he followed the progress of the couple into the building opposite—the Stannary Court.
He was rarely shocked by anything, but seeing that particular gentleman there—that, very definitely, wasn’t something he’d expected. He didn’t appreciate the sudden clenching in his chest, but innate caution warned against not paying attention, not properly assessing this unlooked-for, and undesirable, development.
He didn’t know the lady, but she was unimportant. It was the man…the last time he’d seen him had been in London, and under circumstances that might well prove inimical to his current plans. But before he acted—reacted—he needed to know more.
Glancing sideways, he saw two old men, retired sailors by the look of them, sitting at one of the rough tables outside the tavern two doors along the street. Summoning his most amiable expression—he could charm birds from trees if he wished—he strolled along the pavement, pausing before the men’s table to tip his head, smile and exchange comments on the fine day. They were a gregarious pair, making it easy for him to ask, “That building over there.” He nodded across the street to the court. “What is it?”
They grinned and happily told him.
He raised his brows. “I see. I have to admit I know little about tin mining.”
“Well,” said one old tar, an evil grin creasing his face, “after smuggling, it’s the main source of employment around here.”
Malcolm looked suitably impressed. “I hadn’t realized.” He glanced at the court building. “Actually, there was a gentleman who just went in with a lady. I thought I recognized him, but I can’t recall his name. Do you know if he’s a local?”
The pair glanced at the steps. “His lordship, the earl, you mean?”
It required no effort to appear surprised. “Tall, well set up, well dressed. The lady was tall, too.”
The second sailor nodded. “Aye, that was Miss Gascoigne—her as holds the reins for her young brother, Harry, him being Viscount Gascoigne of Treleaver Park. That’s to the east on the peninsula.”
“An
d the earl?”
“Tregarth, Earl of Crowhurst. He was a major in the guards, they say.” The sailors exchanged a knowing glance. “Course, that’s not all he was, as those hereabouts have good cause to know. One of our own, and in the thick of things with old Boney, he was. But now he’s home, and with his uncle and cousin passed on, he’s lord of Crowhurst Castle—that’s down on the peninsula, too.”
Malcolm smiled and thanked them. “He wasn’t who I thought he was—just as well I asked.”
“Aye, well, you do hail from London, and no doubt there’s gentleman upon gentleman there—easy enough to get confused.”