With a nod and a smiling salute, Malcolm moved on.
Inwardly cursing. His eyes hadn’t lied; Tregarth was the gentleman Christian Allardyce, Marquess of Dearne, had joined after informing Malcolm of his guardian’s suicide. Malcolm had seen the pair speak; they were, had been, colleagues, of that there was no doubt whatever in his mind.
So Tregarth was now Crowhurst, a major landowner, consorting with another major landowner, or the equivalent in the tall Miss Gascoigne, both almost certainly controlling multiple mining leases as was the general case in the area, and they’d been going into the Stannary Court…possibly to make inquiries over who had recently acquired mining leases, poaching on their turf.
Malcolm didn’t like that notion, not at all, but most worrying was that Tregarth knew him as Malcolm Sinclair—while everyone else in the area, with the sole exception of Jennings, knew him as Thomas Glendower.
Dinner that evening at Crowhurst Castle was a relaxed and entertaining affair. Sybil, Muriel, Gervase and Madeline were outnumbered by the younger crew, who, after their initial wary reticence had been broken by Edmond asking Annabel how they’d managed to break the mill, proceeded to get along famously.
Regardless, Madeline was pleased to note that as the evening progressed her brothers remained on their best behavior, treating the three girls with a deference the girls seemed to take as their due. When the company rose from the dinner table, the boys leapt up, each drawing back one of the girls’ chairs, then attentively falling into step beside them as they followed Sybil and Muriel from the room.
The sight made her smile.
“I apologize in advance should my dear sisters lead your brothers astray.”
She turned as Gervase came up beside her. “What a strange thing to say.” She placed her hand on his proffered arm. “And here I was thinking what a civilizing influence they seem to be exerting over my barbarians.”
“Oh, they’re civil enough at the moment.” Together they ambled in their siblings’ wake. “But when they don’t get their way, they transform into hoydenish harridans.”
She laughed. “Hoydenish I might believe, given the recent incidents, but I sincerely doubt they have it in them to be harridans.”
“Trust me, they do.”
They’d reached the drawing room; entering, they discovered their juniors had decided on a game of loo. Belinda was directing Harry and Edmond in fetching and setting up the table, while Annabel, Ben and Jane were on their knees fishing in the sideboard for the cards and counters.
Sybil and Muriel were already ensconced on one chaise, heads together chatting. With Gervase, Madeline repaired to its mate, from where they could observe the card table and, if necessary, intervene in the activities around it, but could otherwise converse in reasonable privacy.
“I think we should pay a visit to Mr. Glendower tomorrow morning—before he has a chance to ride out.” She glanced at Gervase, brows rising.
He nodded. “It seems too coincidental that he recently bought the manor at Breage, with two mining leases, and then also bought two more.”
They’d discovered that a Mr. Thomas Glendower was the only person to recently purchase any mining leases in the area. Further investigation had yielded the information that he’d also bought the small manor near Breage, and was now living there. It had been late afternoon before they’d learned his direction; they’d decided not to try for an interview so late, but wait for tomorrow to approach him.
“He must be our man,” Madeline said, her tone determined. “The one behind the agent and the rumors.”
“You’ve found him?”
Madeline turned. Gervase looked up to find that Harry had slipped away from the action about the card table; he stood at the end of the chaise beside Madeline. With their attention on him, he colored faintly, but persisted, “The man behind all these rumors? If you’re going to see him, can I come?”
Gervase noted the clenching of Harry’s fists at his sides, and hoped Madeline understood.
She turned to him, brows arching.
He returned her look, not quite impassively.
Her eyes searched his, then she turned to Harry. “If you want to.”
Harry smiled; his hands unclenched. His eyes shone as he answered the question he’d correctly divined in Madeline’s tone. “If he’s the one creating all these problems in the district, well…”—he glanced at Gervase as if seeking the correct way to explain, then he looked again at Madeline—“it’s the sort of thing Viscount Gascoigne should help with, and I’m old enough to start learning the ropes.”
Madeline smiled, openly approving; reaching out, she grasped his hand and lightly squeezed. “Indeed. We’ll be only too happy to have you along.”
Gervase nodded his own, rather more masculine approval. “As your sister suggests, we should catch him before he has a chance to ride out for the day. If it is him, we don’t want him luring more unsuspecting leaseholders into his net, so we’ll need to make an early start.” He glanced at Madeline. “Best if I meet you two at the junction at Tregoose—let’s say at nine. We can ride on together from there.”
Madeline and Harry agreed. Then Harry was imperiously summoned to the card table. He quickly went to take his place.
Madeline turned to Gervase. She searched his eyes, then arched a brow. “Was that your doing, or truly his own initiative?”
“Mostly his own initiative—I just nudged him into acting on it.”