“I… I did,” came Jenny’s quiet confirmation.
Upon closer inspection, Amelia noticed the weathered state of the stone, perhaps a sign of its long-standing vigil in the woods. Despite the naturally aged look of it, it was clean of dirt or moss. There was no doubt in her mind that someone came by here often, to maintain the gravestone and its surroundings on a regular basis. Someone took care of whoever lied here.
But who was Jasper Terrell? They bore the same last name as Gideon so certainly they were related, but in what way? An uncle, his father? A brother?
Amelia was tempted to voice her questions aloud but she kept them within, not thinking it appropriate to burden her maid with them. She would simply save them for when she saw Gideon next. He wouldn’t mind telling her, would he? Even though he had made no mention of it before…
Amelia rose from her crouching. She closed her eyes as a wave of unease washed over her. She didn’t know why but she felt a sense of foreboding as well, as if her days were about to become a lot more complicated.
CHAPTER 25
“Imust say, Your Grace, if you wished to impress with the state of your residence, you have succeeded beautifully on that front.”
Gideon grinned right on cue, even though he didn’t miss the undertone of condescension in Sir Clarkeson’s voice. The other man sat across from him nursing his third glass of Gideon’s finest brandy, looking around his study as if he’d seen better but enjoyed the effort all the same.
Under normal circumstances, Gideon would not have allowed such a remark to pass unchallenged. He was the Duke of Stanhope, after all. He always made sure to assert a level of authority in any social or commercial setting he found himself in.
However, there was something he required from Sir Clarkeson and the man knew it. Bringing to an end his long-winded quest for revenge hinged on acquiring it.
“You honor me with your words, sir,” Gideon said humbly, swallowing his ire. “Knowing your penchant for oriental antiques, I knew that I could not disappoint.”
Sir Clarkeson chuckled and chased the rest of his brandy down his throat. “I appreciate that, Your Grace. But I feel I would be doing you a disservice if I did not get something off my chest from the start. I only accepted the invitation due to my close ties with the former Duke and the persistence in your correspondence. I have no intention of giving up the Serpent’s Den.”
Gideon arched a brow in doubt. “Surely you are at least slightly interested in what I have to say?”
Sir Clarkeson shrugged. He ran his finger along the rim of his empty glass and Gideon knew that he was silently asking for another. Gideon wouldn’t give him the satisfaction just yet. He needed to know that this wasn’t going to be a waste of his time first.
“You must understand that the Den has been passed down by my family for generations. If I were to sell it to you, Your Grace, it would be akin to giving up an ancestral land, of sorts. And I would be doing a great disservice to those before me… and those to come.”
Gideon thinned his lips in a duplicitous frown. “It saddened me to learn that you have not been blessed with a son.”
Sir Clarkeson’s relaxed demeanor suddenly shifted. He unconsciously ran a finger to twirl his mustache. “I would like to believe I have many great years ahead of me.”
“We can raise a glass to that.” Though he was well aware that the man’s glass was still empty. “It would be a shame, of course, if the Den was passed to the Clarkeson’s up York upon your passing.” Gideon raised his glass, then took a sip, acutely aware of the bulging eyes glaring him down. The man was about ready to scrap.
“Those good-for-nothing charlatans will not get a whiff of my dealings,” he grumbled.
Gideon nodded fervently. “And I say, nor should they! The archaic principles of the English Common Law should not get in the way of our life’s work.” He knew very well what he was doing. “Like the Savages Gaming Hell in Essex. You were acquainted with the owner, Desmond Drove, if I am not mistaken? It truly is a shame what became of it upon his passing.”
Sir Clarkeson was no longer speaking, his face scrunched in a mixture of irritation and very real apprehension.
“Though I suppose with all the outstanding debts, having it seized and the land sold for scraps at an auction is the greater concern.” He was pushing it now. His gaze lowered to his drink as he swirled the last of it in his crystal glass, a sympathetic look plastered across his face. “But that is neither here, nor there.”
“What, precisely, are youintimating, Your Grace—”
“TheSerpent’s Den. Ah. I envy the old cog who takes that name next.” Gideon spoke over him as if he hadn’t heard a peep. “A great name for a full-time menagerie.” He looked ruefully out the study’s window. “Though it would be a great desecration of the land with all the—”
“Nothing of the sort will happen,” Sir Clarkeson muttered in repressed rage. “Not while I am breathing.”
“Of course, of course,” Gideon puckered his lips in affirmation. He might have had sympathies for the man, but the very person who oversaw the exploitation of men, including his father, in a moment of weakness would not receive a shred of compassion from him. His straight gaze shot to Sir Clarkeson. “The much likelier scenario is toiling your life away to save it from its accumulated debts, and your lifelong work falling victim to the English Common Law upon your passing.”
“And I suppose you have a more suitable alternative, do you?”
“I will make certain you are greatly compensated,” Gideon stated. He sipped the last of his brandy to wet his tongue. It was still only his first glass and, unlike the other man, he had no intentions of clouding his judgment in the slightest during this meeting. He’d spent all morning and afternoon preparing for it. “Your legacy shall be preserved. Your family will want for nothing. Nor will your family’s family.”
“Is that so? Money is not everything, Your Grace.”
“But it is indeed quite persuasive. Allow me.” He reached out for Sir Clarkeson’s glass and the older man was hesitant to hand it over this time. But he did nonetheless. Gideon had brought the decanter over to where they sat, keenly aware that he would be reaching for it often during this meeting. Sir Clarkeson did have a bit of a reputation, after all.
