“I think we ought to explain why we’ve descended on your home, Mr. Morgan.” Her smile drew an answering one from Rhys, warm enough to cause Brynn a frisson of unfounded jealousy, before she went on.
“My stepson and I have been apart for several years since he came into his title and I returned to my brother’s home after my…the former duke died. His Grace visited me recently to report that he’d had unexpected inquiries about his elder half-brother.”
Rhys glanced at Brynn. “Is this the one called Gideon Jessop? My brother mentioned that name in a letter.” The revelation drew a frown from Phillip, but he didn’t interrupt.
She nodded. “He was sent away as a young man, and his father’s holdings in Wales are a logical place he may have gone. We had been told he died, but we’ve both begun to question that story. It would give us peace to know one way or the other. Your brother told me you know most people involved in the operation of mines in Wales. He suggested you could help us.”
Rhys considered the matter for a moment and shook his head. “I know most of the owners and their managers. I know none named Jessop.”
“It is possible he was sent into the mines—as a hewer or a hurrier, any one of a dozen jobs,” Brynn spoke through tightness in his jaw. The worst of the work underground would wear a man down quickly.
Rhys shook his head again. “Wales has thousands of men laboring in the mines. To find one? Unlikely.”
The duke breathed in deeply. “Then we best begin with my operations.” He looked to Madelyn for approval.
“Are they the same as your father’s?” Rhys asked.
Glenmoor blinked. “I believe so, but I’m unsure.” He frowned at Brynn. “Foolish, that. Guardians managed it all the first few years after I inherited.”
“We can begin with the one you do know, Your Grace.” Rhys’s assumption ofwesurprised Brynn.Why not? This investigation took on the manner of a circus as soon the duke arrived. We may as well add another bareback rider.
Within minutes a plan of sorts had been cobbled together. The colliery Glenmoor knew was within a day’s ride, but the offices were in Merthyr Tydfil. It would require an overnight stay, Rhys warned them. He also recommended leaving the carriage behind to give them more flexibility. The duke appeared gleeful at the prospect of going on horseback, surprising Brynn again. The duchess was less excited but willing. Brynn wondered if she had brought a riding habit.
No one hurried through Rhys’s fine port, but they didn’t savor it as it deserved, either. Madelyn rose first. “It has been a long day, and tomorrow promises to be another. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to your conversation.”
Brynn followed her with his eyes, even when Glenmoor rose to go with her.
“She’s lovely,” Rhys spoke softly, pouring them both another glass.
“Yes. In many ways.”
“But…”
“Far above my touch.”And likely to hate me if I interfere in the matter of Gideon Jessop’s inheritance.
They drank in silence for a few moments before Rhys asked what had probably been on his mind all evening. He had tried to raise it the first morning, and Brynn had cut him off. “Did you find Mary Carew’s cottage?”
“Was I meant to?”
“You should—”
Brynn rose abruptly. “What I should do is not for you to say.” He left his brother glaring into his port.
Chapter Twenty
“Who is MaryCarew?”
Brynn choked. Up until Madelyn’s question, the day and the ride, blessed with sunshine, had been pure joys. Brynn had allowed himself the pleasure of watching Madelyn savor the glory of Wales. She had brought a riding habit and proved to be an excellent rider. He would happily spend a lifetime riding these hills with her. At least he enjoyed it until her question blindsided him.
“You didn’t leave a wife behind in Wales, by any chance, did you?” Her attempt at humor didn’t help.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“I heard your brother ask you if you had visited her, but you said you were ‘up in the hills.’” Madelyn rode along serenely, oblivious to his turmoil.
Brynn’s mount sidled in response while he silently cursed interfering brothers everywhere. He pulled his temper under control with effort.
Madelyn, persistent baggage, glanced over and asked again, “Who was she, Brynn? An ancient governess? Friend? Lost lover?”
