He prowled off toward the stables. Lucy swallowed the temptation to go with him, for he hadn’t invited her to do so, and it had become obvious that he remembered the lay of the land from boyhood. The chance to impress him with her skills as a steward disappeared down the lane with him. The accord that seemed to rise between them earlier had died a swift death.
Chapter Twelve
“Your friend Morgananswered you quickly,” Eli said from his father’s spot at the end of the bar.
“That he did. Still no word from the earl?” Rob asked, wiping mugs behind it.Boredom would scramble a man’s brains and urge him to do things he swore he never would do again.
“No, and I’m even more anxious to see those documents. I got only the briefest of information out of that bank clerk, but something is off about the funds Lucy Whitaker claims she’s been sending to Spangler. I need the earl’s word to get me access.” Eli sat up straight. “Or yours! Why didn’t I think about it sooner? Now that you’re the heir, you can demand to see the books.”
“How was it off? By what she sends, or by what he deposits in the estate’s escrow account?”
“The latter. Less than expected.”
“We need a closer look. Did you give my signed acceptance to Spangler?”
“I thought we agreed to let the old bird stew for a while, try to flush him out. Spangler’s clerk gave me the introduction to the bank when I told him you were still considering your options, but he refused to show me Spangler’s books, and the bank wasn’t any more forthcoming.”
Eli packed up the papers he’d brought to show his brother. He glanced at the clock over the darkened mantel. “Not quite noon. I can still get back to Nottingham on time to see what Williamson has for me today. He’s been generous with my time, but I owe him and our clients my attention.”
Rob walked his brother out to fetch his gig. “Thank you for taking this on, Eli. It is a relief to have a man I can trust looking into things.”
Eli replied with a lopsided grin. “It’s what brothers are for.” The grin widened. “Wait until you see my bill.”
Alfred led his gig over, but, before Eli could climb up, a sleek, black carriage pulled into the innyard on well-oiled wheels. Eli whistled. “That’s a beauty, as fast as it is fancy.”
“Looks like we flushed our bird,” Rob replied, watching a footman run around and lower the step for Spangler to alight. The earl’s man peered around the yard disdainfully, nose up as if he smelled something unpleasant, only to have his face reform itself into a smile when he spotted the two brothers.
“Well met, Sir Robert. I pause on my way to Caulfield Hall.” He eyed Eli suspiciously. “Care to join me in a pint. I’ve heard The Willow and the Rose has a tolerable ale.”
“The best in the county,” Rob replied.
Spangler’s brows shot up at Rob’s tone, but his face settled quickly into his ingratiating smile. “Then it will be a privilege to share one.”
Rob turned toward Eli, reining in his unexpected surge of anger at hearing the inn denigrated. “May I make known to you Eli Benson. My brother.”
“Have we met?” Spangler asked, the lines between his eyes hardening his expression, puzzled and faintly suspicious.
“Not formally. We may have passed one another in court—quarter sessions.”
The brows shot up again. Eli didn’t wait for him to ask. “I clerk with Reginald Williamson.”
Rob stepped between Eli’s smug delight and Spangler’s consternation at finding Rob in the company of a rival’s clerk. “Shall we step inside so you can tell me why you came?” he asked, gesturing to the door. When Spangler’s faux smile reset itself, he added “Over ale, of course.” Rob glanced back at Eli, who trooped behind, while he led Spangler into the taproom, the client in Nottingham forgotten.
“Clara, three mugs of ale in the snug, please,” Rob said without pausing. He didn’t wait for the ale. “To what do we owe this visit, Spangler,” he asked as soon as they were seated.
“As I said, I was on my way to Caulfield Hall on the earl’s business,” Spangler intoned, eyes flicking from one brother to the other before focusing on Rob. “I thought to inquire whether you’ve reached a decision.”
Rob sat back without speaking, arms folded across his chest, and glanced at Eli. He had observed England’s finest diplomats wield silence as a weapon in Paris, letting fools babble out their secrets into it. Spangler proved to be no different, for he rushed in with words. “I can tell you it is a fine piece of property, Sir Robert. I can’t think why you would reject it.”
Clara brought the ale, and all three men sipped quietly.
“The ale is as fine as you said,” Spangler pronounced with no sign of sincere interest in the beverage.
“You’re concerned about Willowbrook, Mr. Spangler?” Eli prodded.
Spangler leaned in confidentially. “Surely you can see the value of the property?”
“Have you had it surveyed for coal, Mr. Spangler?” Eli asked, startling both Rob and the solicitor.
