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 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.”