The earl shifted in his seat.
He looks like a man carrying the world on his shoulders.Perhaps he is, Rob thought. “What are you thinking?”
“She pressures me to open Caulfield land to mining—coal to fill the earldom’s coffers,” Clarion said. “I refuse to do it.”
“If there is coal beneath the limestone ridge, it is as likely to be on Willowbrook as the Caulfield estate. The deed comes with mineral rights.”
In the end, they agreed that Rob’s family would unleash rumors that he hadthreeoffers, each one more generous than the previous.
The earl left, looking even more burdened than when he arrived. He agreed, for his part, to pretend ignorance where the countess was concerned.
Rob still had to deal with Sims, the London agent. Morgan flushed the nervous little man from his comfortable suite on the top floor of the Willow and escorted him to the inn office, where Rob interrogated him once more. Sim blinked uneasily, but, when pressed, again refused to name his client.
“If you can tell me nothing, our business is concluded. Your services are no longer required.”
“You won’t receive a finer offer, and our agreement…” Sims blustered.
“You think not? I have reason to believe otherwise,” Rob said. It had been Clarion’s suggestion to hint at the nonexistent third offer and send Sims scurrying to report to his client, hoping he made the conspirators uneasy enough to make a mistake.
Rob sent the man off to pack. “Colonel Morgan leaves for London in an hour. You will accompany him.”
Morgan’s slow malevolent smile urged Sims to move.
“Sorry about Sims. He came recommended,” Morgan said, after the agent left, sputtering and complaining.
Rob brushed the apology, not Morgan’s first, aside. “I need to impose on you for something else.”
“Talk to Rockford, I know.” Morgan patted his coat where Rob’s messages lay. “I can explain your dilemma myself.”
“It’s something else,” Rob said. “The earl believes his mother has no funds and yet appears to have ready cash when she needs it. Something odd is going on. Rockford can tell you who would be able to follow the money to its source. Explain my problem, see what you can find.”
“I begin to regret your heroics in Spain, Benson. I owe you my life, but banking?” Morgan made an elaborate shudder.
Rob grinned back. “Talk to Rockford—and offer him your services. Quit hanging back. He needs men like you.”
Chapter Thirty
Rob’s eagerness tosee Lucy drove him swiftly across to Willowbrook. If, God willing, her business was as simple as her message implied, and all was at peace, he might have a quiet word. He might ask her what she thought of London.
He reached the bridge to find it deserted. No workers. No guard.Odd that. Where are Abbott and Robbins?
He urged Khalija faster up to the manor, slid from the saddle, and ran up the steps. He burst through the door to be greeted by silence, the house equally deserted. Lucy’s study door hung open, the room empty. Even the kitchen lay silent.
“Lucy? Agnes?” He went out the back to find Cilla and Molly, the maid he had sent to help, clinging to one another in the kitchen garden.
Cilla rushed up to him, wringing her hands. “Thank goodness yer here, Sir Robert. There’s been an attack. Blood everywhere,” she moaned.
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Where is Miss Whitaker?”
The girl froze, eyes wide. “I dunno.”
He pushed her aside in disgust. “Can you talk sense?” he asked Molly. “What is going on. Where is everyone?”Is Lucy safe?The words froze in his chest.
“I, I think the soldiers are at the stable, saddling up to go after him.”
“Who?”
“That Miller person you’ve been looking for.”
