Page 34 of The Major's Mistake
Miranda’s gaze returned to the dancing patterns of light and dark. “It would be most unfair of me if I sought to deny you the pleasure of your nephew’s company,” she replied slowly. Her hands tightened in her lap. “Besides, His Lordship and I are, after all, mature adults. It appears that when we set our minds to it, we are both capable of acting civil in each other’s presence.”
“How very reasonable. I am glad to hear it,” Lady Thornton bent back down over her volume of Lord Byron’s latest epic but Miranda thought she caught the flicker of a tiny smile.
Nine
The marquess put his feet up and swirled the brandy slowly around in his glass. “It’s damnably frustrating. I have ridden nearly the entire breadth of the shire and seen no sign of imminent unrest. Except, of course, for the grinding poverty.” His lips compressed. “If the government would see fit to ensure that our own people had enough to eat and that our returning soldiers had honest work, perhaps we would not have to worry about trouble in our own backyard.
Sykes sank back a bit deeper in the wing chair and took a small sip of spirits. “Well, we both knew it would not be easy gaining any acceptance among these folk. I have been slipping out to have a pint at the local tavern for quite some time.” He paused to rub at his jaw, a slight smile coming to his lips. “Unfortunately you now have a reputation for being rather ill-tempered employer, as well as a penchant for constantly complaining and working me quite to the bone, but I had to appear as one of them, you know. Wouldn’t have done at all to be seen to be too cozy with my august employer.”
Julian gave a dry chuckle. “Do I beat you as well? Or do I limit myself to administering just a verbal lashing?”
“Hmmm,” mused his valet.” That’s an idea. Perhaps I should consider darkening one of my deadlights for added sympathy.”
“I doubt you need take it that far. But have you learned anything that may be of import?”
“I overheard one of the men at a nearby table mumble something about a gathering the night after the morrow. He was quickly hushed by two of his friends, but I pretended as if I hadn’t taken note of his words,” replied Sykes. “They left soon after, but later I made a point of being very vocal with my own drinking companions about my dissatisfaction with how the government is treating us ex-soldiers, and how unfair the proposed Corn Laws are.”
He took another sip of his drink before adding. “The groom from Squire Darwood’s estate let slip that the fellows were strangers in the area, but he didn’t know much else. I’ll just have to keep spending your blunt to keep my new set of friends well lubricated and see if any other information turns up.”
Julian nodded grimly. “I suppose there is little else to do but that for the moment, but it’s a sore trial that I cannot be involved at this point.”
“There’s no help for it, guv. Nobody would think of breathing a word with the likes of you around. We both agreed this is the only way to find out what is going on. Once I learn anything of substance, you can move into action. There’s really little danger in my role right now—and I am well able to look after myself.” He gazed into his drink. “And besides, you have enough to engage your thoughts for the time being.”
He let out a grunt. “My personal affairs will not interfere with my duty.”
Sykes got up to refill the marquess’s glass. “I regret I have not yet had the chance to make the acquaintance of Master Justin.”
“He’s quite an amazing little fellow.” The marquess’s lips curved in a fond smile. “I should like very much for you to meethim, but I do not wish to appear to press things. Miran—his mother is concerned about how much contact he has with me and any of my household. She is worried that he may become … confused about it all.” His gaze clouded. “I hardly wish to argue. She has done such a wonderful job of raising him, under what must have been … difficult circumstances.”
His valet looked away into the fire, his expression thoughtful until his brows drew together. “I don’t mean to pry, guv, but it appears that your wi—Mrs. Ransford is living with nary a penny to her name. I should have thought that a lady ….” He let the words die away.
Julian raked a hand through his locks. “Her parents cast her out as a stain on the family name. And as her considerable dowry stayed in my hands, as is the way things are done, I never knew how desperate her circumstances had become.” His mouth quirked in a grimace. “No, I am being too kind to myself. I never gave it a thought. Can you imagine, a female has no rights at all to any property, not even that which she brought to a marriage. Why, the courts would find me entirely within my rights to tear Justin from her bosom, though I have had nothing to do with his care or upbringing.”
He exhaled a long breath. “There is much injustice in the world. I have come to realize that women do not have an easy lot. And then I look around here and see what our laws and tariffs have done to the working people.” Another sigh. “Good Lord, how could I have been so blind that I never saw any of the suffering and hardship before?”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Most people in your position wouldn’t see it in a lifetime.”
The Marquess pursed his lips and looked as if he took little solace in that thought.
A blowfrom an ax smashed the rest of the loom. The shattered wood was tossed by several men onto the large bonfire, whose licking flames cast an eerie glow that made the proceedings appear even more sinister.
Another group of men, hardly more than shadowy figures, hurled rocks through the windows of the brick building while others hauled the remains of the overseer’s desk toward the plume of smoke. Makeshift clubs knocked the gears from the last bit of machinery within the walls, then, at the sound of a shrill whistle, the figures disappeared into the moonless night.
From his vantage point in a copse of elm, McTavish watched the men melt away into the darkness with a sense of smug triumph. He had been particularly skillful in inciting the men who had gathered covertly in the clearing near the main road—not that much encouragement had been needed. The ragged band had been quickly sparked to a righteous anger by his fiery words on the injustice and the tyranny of the Regent and his cronies who were bleeding the country dry with their wars and their excesses. The nearby mill was reduced to a smoking wreck in short order.
Scofield and Gibbs made their way through the trees and removed the hooded black masks from their sooty faces.
“A pretty piece of work tonight was,” said McTavish with a grunt of satisfaction. “Things are going well. The men are getting bolder, and a few new ones have joined in the past week. We should have no trouble striking again soon.”
His two companions wiped at the sweat on their brows. “Things are going according to plan, aren’t they?” ventured Gibbs. “We’re going to get paid a pretty penny for this, ain’t we?”
McTavish bounced a heavy leather purse in his palm. “We already have. And if we succeed in knocking off the one in Sillton, we shall see an even bigger bonus.”
The clink of gold caused both of the other men to wet their lips.
“Oh, we’ll succeed right enough. The men have little choice now but to follow us until you pay ‘em off and allow ‘em to slink home. And ain’t nobody gonna find our hiding place. Even if any of the locals has seen anything, they ain’t gonna spill it to the authorities,” said Scofield, his eye glued on the bulging sack of coins. “I been keeping an ear open to what’s being said in the taverns.”
McTavish slid the purse back into his coat pocket. “Nothing of note?”
