The older man swirled his port in the bulbous glass and stared at it intently.
“Not by choice, I assure you. I merely did it of necessity.”
This went along with what Stanton had told him.
“Are you doubtful gold can be extracted? Or fearful it’ll collapse?” This was a reasonable question; after all, it had collapsed before, fifty or so odd years ago.
Hallowell sipped the drink and blew out a loud breath. “To be honest, a little of both. I’ve read the engineers’ reports and Stanton’s assured me it can be done safely…” He shrugged. “But, as I’m sure you are aware, it’s cursed.”
Gabriel wasn’t a superstitious man himself, but he wouldn’t insult the viscount by dismissing his beliefs. In addition, the viscount’s fears could actually work to his benefit.
“All the more reason to exercise restraint.”
The viscount nodded. “Being a stranger around here, you likely don’t realize there is more to the curse than just the mine.”
Gabriel raised his brows in question.
“My father was warned.” Warming to his subject, Hallowell lifted the carafe and poured them each another splash of the rich drink. “His father, and his father before him, tried extracting the gold. And yes, I’m quite aware of the suspected wealth hidden in its depths. My great-grandfather was the first to dig. At that time, a band of Romany was passing through. One of their elders, a soothsayer amongst them, advised him to halt or else tragedy would strike. He took her for a fool and proceeded despite her warnings. His eldest son died the day they discovered the vein.
“It remained closed until a few years following his own demise, when his second son, my grandfather, went after the gold. While traveling to London to have the first few ounces made into jewelry for my grandmother, he was robbed by highwaymen and killed.
“After a series of crop failures, my own father turned to the mine once again. That was the first collapse. Eight men remain buried in the earth till this day.” He eyed Gabriel intently. “Do not be surprised when you excavate their bones.”
Gabriel simply nodded.
“One might have thought I would have learned.” Hallowell swallowed the remaining contents of his glass. “All I did was contemplate the wealth I could extract, request an analysis. That night, an old man came to me in a dream. Warned that if I went ahead with my plans, I’d live the remainder of my days knowing the eye of the devil was on me.”
The viscount sat back and folded his arms, as though Gabriel ought to know the significance of such a curse.
“I don’t understand.” But before Hallowell could answer, the insanity of the man’s possible meaning came into focus. Gabriel’s blood ran cold.
“The next day, my viscountess gave birth to our first daughter, Olivia.”
Gabriel swallowed hard. “Surely, you cannot imagine it anything more than a coincidence?” Was the man mad?
But the older man was shaking his head. “The dream was quite clear. If only one tragedy had occurred, I’d call it a coincidence. We probably ought to have sent her away much earlier. My heir might still be alive today… It is my belief that she looked on him too often. He had always been a sickly child and didn’t have the strength to fight it…” He shook his head mournfully. “All in all, I cannot deceive myself the curse does not exist.”
Hallowell blamed Olivia for his heir’s death? Because of her eye!
The belief was an asinine one.
Suppressing an urge to knock some sense into the man, Gabriel placed his glass on the table and asked the obvious question. “So why now? Why are you willing to open it now?”
“The same reason I nearly did before. The same reason my father did, his father, and his father before him. The coffers have run dry. It’s either that or starve.”
“Crawford’s settlement has assured you needn’t worry about either,” Gabriel pointed out.
“Yes.” Hallowell swirled the contents of his glass thoughtfully. “Perhaps the curse has lifted finally.”
The man made no sense whatsoever. Did he only believe that which was convenient for him?
Because, Gabriel thought cynically, a daughter with a crossed eye was not.
“Where does that leave Miss Redfield?” She was none of his business, he was well aware. But couldn’t help but ask. “If the curse is lifted, why not bring her back into your home?”
An indifferent expression crossed the older man’s face. “No longer relevant, Kingsley.”
“You mean because of Luke Smith’s offer?” Gabriel pressed. It behooved him not at all to challenge the viscount on this matter. He could not help but imagine his own sister turned away from her family. Priscilla had spirit, much the same as Miss Redfield. Perhaps it was the similarities that caused him to persist.
