trade during the squall that had struck during Lady Porthleven’s ball.
This morning he’d distracted the Gascoigne trio, but tomorrow would be another day, and from their direction when he’d come upon them, and the few references they’d let fall during the morning’s sailing, they were plainly still intent on searching for wreckers’ treasure, not a safe pastime if there had been recent wrecks.
He stopped in Coverack to speak with the innkeeper there, then rode north to Porthoustock, then on to Helford and Gweek, eventually reaching Helston itself, and Abel Griggs.
“Nah.” Abel hefted the foaming pint pot Gervase set before him and took a deep draft. Lowering the pot, he wiped foam from his upper lip, then settled to chat. “Ain’t been no action-not for us, nor for them. That squall was a bad one, right enough, but it didn’t sit right for them. Far as we’ve been able to make out from the whispers and the remains of false beacons on the cliffs, they’ve only been using the reefs to the west, mostly laying in for the coves from Kynance to Mullion.”
“Not to the east?”
Abel shook his head. “There’s just the Manacles that side, and while they might be right jagged teeth lying there ready to rip out a ship’s hull, they’re difficult for the wreckers, leastways with the currents ’round that way.” Abel studied his beer. “Besides, with the wind as it was in that squall, it’d only be a ship beating north for the Helford estuary that’d be at risk, and no captain on this coast would do that in a blow.”
Gervase nodded. “True enough.”
Reassured that there was-still-nothing for Madeline’s brothers to find in the caves that dotted the western coves, he chatted with Abel about this and that, after his reminiscences of the morning reliving and recounting certain shared adventures from decades before.
He left Abel in the tavern on the old docks that had always been his “office” and headed back to Coinagehall Street and the Scales & Anchor where he’d left Crusader. He turned in under the arch of the inn’s stableyard-to find Madeline striding toward him.
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.”
“And 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.”
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