“A few dotted here and there,” Eustace said. “They are useful beasts on the moors, or on rocky coasts.”
“I imagine they would be, in certain situations,” the lawyer said with a smile. “At night, for instance, when there is a sizeable cargo to be transported swiftly and silently.”
“Smugglers?” Ian said, in surprise. “Is there much of that going on here? We are a long way from the coast.”
“It goes on everywhere within a day’s ride of the coast,” the earl said. “Perhaps further afield, once the goods are decanted into fresh barrels, less easy to trace. There will always be a demand for good quality brandy and wine. I dare say if my own cellars were examined closely— Not that I condone such lawbreaking, but I cannot check every barrel that comes in, can I?”
“That is not a situation where a lady of Miss Peach’s age should be wandering about unprotected,” Eustace said, alarmed. “The Excise men cannot be everywhere, and smugglers are wild men far outside the law, who would not hesitate to murder an elderly lady who got in their way. I confess, I am not happy to think of her blundering about amongst such people, no matter how capable she may be in ordinary situations.”
Mr Willerton-Forbes eyed him thoughtfully. “Perhaps, then, I may take up your kind offer to look for her.”
“It shall be done,” Eustace said.
When the gentlemen began to leave the dining room, Ian rose too, but the earl touched his arm lightly.
“Stay a moment, Farramont, if you would be so good. Take another glass of port with me.”
Ian’s heart sank, but he dutifully refilled the glasses and resumed his seat. At first, while the others were still milling about, he talked on indifferent topics — of Izzy, and the Lakes, and the family at Lochmaben.
“Lady Rennington is there, is she not? Did you see anything of her while you were there?” he said wistfully.
“I was not at Lochmaben at all, sir, and saw nothing of her,” Ian said. “Izzy can tell you of her, for she stayed some time at Lochmaben.”
“Ah. Then I shall ask her about her mother.” He sighed, his expression filled with sorrow. “What do you think of this Wightman woman, eh?”
“I have not exchanged more than a few words with her,” Ian said. “She seems… inoffensive.”
“Inoffensive. Yes.” The earl sighed. “I am supposed to choose one of these women to marry, and yet… how does one choose? What made you choose Izzy, eh? A bit of a handful, that girl. Beautiful, of course — exquisitely beautiful, but difficult to live with, as I warned you when you first spoke to me. Yet you were determined to have her.”
“And I have never regretted it for a moment,” Ian said, smiling. “I cannot tell you precisely why… such things are ineffable, perhaps. I could talk about the brightness of her eye, or the graceful way she moves, yet always with a spring in her step. Or it could be the way she listens to a man, as if he is the only thing she cares about, and nothing else exists beyond thatmoment. Or her smile, her voice, the curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips. It is all of those things, and yet none of them at the same time. It is inexplicable, but a man just knows.”
“Ah, yes,” the earl said, brightening a little. “So it was with my dear Caroline — I just knew. And I think, in a way,shechoseme,and perhaps that is a better way of doing things. Do you think we should join the others, Farramont? I hear music… perhaps Izzy will sing tonight. That would be a rare delight for us.”
Ian followed him, a little bemused. He had expected some discussion of estate matters — money, perhaps, since Lord Rennington had such a high regard for Ian’s abilities in that area, but he would have supposed that the question of the earl’s marriage was a matter for the family and not an outsider like himself.
In the drawing room, the earl was quickly scooped up by Mrs Wightman, who was bending solicitously over his chair, waving cushions at him. The earl smiled wanly under her ministrations, allowed her to place the cushions behind his back and seemed resigned when she sat down beside him. Elsewhere, several of the ladies and a few gentlemen had gathered around the pianoforte, where Izzy was ensconced, her fingers flying lightly over the keys, a great deal of merriment surrounding her. As if she sensed his presence, she looked up and smiled at him, a curiously intimate moment when they were on opposite sides of the room. He watched her play for a little while, until some of the younger guests suggested an impromptu dance. Within moments the footmen were busy shifting furniture and rolling up carpets. To avoid the turmoil, Ian withdrew to the attached tower room, where he found Mr Willerton-Forbes gazing out of the window in silent contemplation.
“Are you also escaping from the awful risk of being called upon to dance?” Ian said to him.
“It is not necessary, for no one expects a lawyer to do anything so frivolous as dancing,” he said, eyes twinkling. “No, it is quieter here, where I can enjoy my brandy and think, and yet still hear the gentle strains of the instrument. May I pour you a brandy, my lord?”
“Thank you, but I still have my port.”
“Did Lord Rennington talk to you just now? About the money situation? I noticed he detained you at table when everyone else was leaving.”
Ian laughed. “He talked to me, certainly, but there was no mention of money. His principal concern appears to be the choosing of a wife, about which I can offer him no advice.”
“Ah, the poor man! He misses Lady Rennington greatly, but he is diligently putting himself forward to these several ladies. He will remember before too long the proposal he wished to put to you.”
“Are you privy to his thoughts?” Ian said. “Perhaps you can enlighten me.”
“Certainly. Shall we sit? We can be quite private here with so much noise in the room next door. It is about the earl’s financial position. You may not be aware that the late earl was very dependent on the late Mr Nicholson to conduct his financial affairs. He had a steward at one time, but Mr Nicholson gradually assumed control of his lordship’s money — receiving the rents, settling bills, obtaining cash when it was needed, matters of that nature. When the late earl died, there seemed to be less money than there should have been, and there were some suspicions, even then, that Mr Nicholson had been… less than entirely accurate in his record keeping, shall we say. But his lordship wished not to make a fuss about it, Mr Nicholson being his lordship’s brother-in-law, and so nothing was done at the time, although the lawyers insisted on bringing in a steward to manage the estate.”
“Who is himself less than accurate in his record keeping,” Ian said.
“Indeed, although I would ascribe that to carelessness, rather than any malign intent. Whereas with Mr Nicholson…”
“You think he was feathering his own nest?”
