The Secrets of Lord Lynford

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘He was going to take me up to the conservatory for the holiday concert,’ Sophie put in with slightly more diplomatic tact. Darn Eaton for making promises he knew he was unlikely to keep. Now she’d have to dry the tears left in his wake.

  ‘Will we get to say goodbye?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘I don’t know. You can leave a note for Lord Lynford, if you’d like.’

  ‘He likes to be called Eaton. Not Lord Lynford,’ Sophie corrected her with a slightly accusatory tone as if she was to blame for ruining their fun.

  ‘Mrs Blaxland—’ one of Eaton’s loaned maids bobbed in the doorway ‘—you have a caller.’

  ‘Who is it?’ Eliza rose to her feet, clumsy with her skirts, her mind slow to shift gears between discussing leaving Eaton and trying to figure out who would call on her.

  ‘Mr Detford.’ The woman’s tone was full of disapproval. The visitor was calling too late in the afternoon; it was nearly five o’clock, well past visiting hours, especially when the visitor in question was a man who was not Lord Lynford.

  What was Miles Detford doing here now? Instant worry overcame Eliza. Any number of issues might have brought him out. Was something wrong at Wheal Karrek? Was this about the mines? About Brenley? The shareholders? Surely things could have been handled during polite calling hours. He would not call at such an hour without reason, which meant something was wrong at the mine. ‘Where is he? I will see him at once.’

  ‘I’ve put him in your office, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you. Will you have Miss Gilchrist come down for Sophie? And instruct the maids to start packing. We need to leave for Truro in the morning.’ She hoped Miles’s business wouldn’t take long. She wanted to have dinner with Sophie. With any luck, the visit would take ten minutes and she would send him on his way with an answer.

  She reached the office door, straightened her shoulders and sailed into the room. ‘Miles, what are you doing here?’ He looked worried and that worried her.

  ‘No good news, I am afraid.’ He came to her, taking her hands in his. ‘I want to talk you out of this madness of replacing the shareholders. This is Lynford’s plan. He’s using you. You’ve only known the man for a month. I’ve never known you to be reckless. I fear he must have some hold over you.’

  Eliza pulled her hands away. ‘Miles, I know what I am doing. Lynford has no sway over me.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s you who has a hold over him, then? I can’t believe either of you have thought this through.’ Miles drew a folded paper out of his pocket. ‘Especially after the pamphlet. I assume you’ve seen it? Then you know how foul it was. I warned Brenley to hold back, but he would not. He’s gone after Lynford, too, and that school of his.’

  ‘What?’ Eliza reached for the handbill, scanning it rapidly. Eaton had not told her the entirety of Brenley’s treachery. There it was in black and white—Brenley was indicting the conservatory for taking funds and direction from the immoral Lynford and his mistress.

  ‘I’m sorry, I thought you knew.’ Miles took the handbill back while her mind reeled. She was not going to cost Eaton his conservatory. Not only Eaton, but Cade Kitto and his new wife. Perhaps it was indeed best that she was going home tomorrow. Just in time, it seemed. Perhaps being out of sight would put her out of mind, at least long enough to save the school. ‘My dear, this is a deuced difficult situation and I dislike heaping more bad news on it all, but there is something else. The new tunnel at the mine. I think you should come with me, there is something you should see.’

  ‘Now?’ Eliza tried to steady her mind. All she could think of was Eaton and his precious school: his legacy, his boys, his memorial to Richard Penlerick. She was ruining everything she touched.

  ‘Yes, I think now would be best. The fewer people around to notice the better,’ he pleaded with her. She understood the need for exigence and even for secrecy.

  Eliza put her hand on his arm. ‘Yes, of course. I don’t forget how difficult it is for you to walk a fine line. Brenley and I, we’ve put you in an awkward position.’ Over the years he’d had to balance his friendship and loyalty to her against his business association with Brenley as a shareholder. He was her friend now, wanting to warn her no doubt about Brenley’s latest attempts to push through the tunnel against her express wishes. Dinner would have to wait and she would likely miss Eaton’s evening visit—if he was even coming. But the mine needed to be dealt with. If Brenley had fuses down in the tunnel, or if Brenley had been giving orders again, she would put a stop to it. ‘I’ll just be a moment. Let me get my things and say goodnight to Sophie.’

  * * *

  Eaton was going to ambush her. He swung off his horse in the drive of the dower house, nerves drawn tight. He had the upper hand, but he also knew he was down to the last of his chances. He was risking everything on this final roll of the dice. Once the initial miasma of his disappointment—nay, his devastation—had lifted, he’d seen the flaw in his proposal. The formality of occasion, of his very invitation, had made her wary. She’d sensed something was afoot from the start and she’d been braced for it. She would not have that luxury tonight. He would catch her by surprise when she didn’t have time to marshal her responses or be on alert. It was her own tactic, after all.

  He’d given Eliza the day to sort through her feelings as he had sorted through his. Her rejection had cost her something. She’d not refused him lightly. He could see that now with the benefit of a day’s distance. Refusing him had hurt her as much as it had hurt him. That recognition gave him hope enough to try one more time. There must be a way to get past her defences, her assumptions about what she needed. He’d searched all day for the words. He reached for the flowers in the saddle holster and for the small present he’d brought for Sophie. He dusted off his breeches and straightened his coat. He pushed a hand through his windblown curls for futile effect. No matter, he rather thought Eliza liked him wind-rumpled. The thought gave him courage. Eliza liked him. Eliza loved him.

  He knocked at the door, taking a final deep breath as the door opened, an excited Sophie ducking past the footman and throwing herself at him. ‘I knew you would come to say goodbye!’ Eaton knelt down and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. ‘I don’t want to go, Eaton. Won’t you persuade Mama when she comes back?’

  Eaton stood up and stepped inside, his mind fumbling over the words. Sophie had imparted so much information all at once. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’re leaving?’ His earlier confidence began to slip. Eliza meant to do it then, she meant to cut ties with him completely. If he’d waited another day, he would have missed her. The truth of it was in evidence everywhere. Trunks were open, maids were folding clothes and running up and downstairs precipitously to retrieve items. The pace at which the maids were working suggested there was an urgency to the task, that it was newly assigned. Eaton knew his staff. They were organised, they never gave the appearance of rushing anywhere because nothing was left to the last minute. They would not have deliberately delayed packing.

  Eaton looked about, realising what else Sophie had said. ‘Where’s your mother? She is gone?’ She was usually never far from Sophie, not with dinner so near.

  ‘She’s gone.’ Sophie pouted. ‘She said she’d be back for dinner but she’s not. She never breaks a promise,’ Sophie said solemnly. ‘It’s all Mr Detford’s fault. I bet he breaks lots of promises,’ she said sulkily.

  ‘Detford was here?’ Eaton squatted down again and drew Sophie close. ‘Did your mama go somewhere with him?’ Why would Detford come here? Why would she leave with him? And why was she not back yet?

  ‘They were going to the mine,’ Sophie supplied. ‘Mama said it was urgent.’ On Detford’s word. But that might be enough for Eliza. Eaton’s mind raced. She’d always viewed Detford as an ally and still did despite their recent quarrel. Eaton didn’t like it. There were too many variables to consider. Detford would have received the letter rega
rding the new shareholders joining the board. And Detford had yet to publicly declare a side in the little war between Brenley and Eliza. The bounder was likely playing both sides as it suited him. The man had already tried once to marry Eliza. Eaton didn’t think the proposal had stemmed from affection for her as much as it had from an affection for the money and influence that would pass to him once they wed.

  A few mad scenarios ran through Eaton’s mind. Was Detford the lure? Did Brenley think to pressure her into some sort of deal through less than gentlemanly means? He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander in that direction. There were all nature of dastardly pressures that could be brought to bear: kidnapping, threatening Sophie, dragging Eliza to the altar to marry Detford against her will and murder her if she did not. He could not stop his mind from raising questions: Who would inherit everything if Eliza were dead and Sophie so young? Probably Eliza’s feckless uncle and her delicate mother. They would be easily overcome by the likes of Brenley and his cartel. The Blaxland fortune wouldn’t last long in their hands.

  Eaton’s gut began to churn with his imaginings. If Eliza were to die before she were wed, Brenley would have a clear path to the holdings. Eliza’s majority would be nullified and the new shareholders would be unable to stop him from taking control of the mines. But that was the least of Eaton’s concerns. Eliza was out there somewhere with Detford. There was no guarantee they’d actually gone to the mine. That could be a ruse as well. At the moment, only two things mattered. Finding her and marrying her immediately to remove her—and Sophie—from such harm.

  Unless he was wrong. Perhaps he was overreacting. Perhaps there was no evil lurking behind Detford’s visit. Eliza valued her independence. She would not appreciate Eaton following her or interrupting the meeting. She would take such an interruption as proof that she’d lose her autonomy through marriage, that he would never truly let her run the business on her own. Did he wait here? She had been late before, like the day Sophie had been ill. Did he go to the mine and hope she and Detford were there? Hope that he’d be in time to stop any nefarious undertakings? Hope that he’d have a plausible excuse if all was as it should be? And then he would take her to task for leaving him.

  He rose and dusted his breeches. ‘Shall I go after her?’ he asked the darling face looking up at him. Sophie was worried. He’d caught her glancing at the clock, marking every minute her mother was late.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Sophie answered. ‘One day Papa went to work and didn’t come home. I want Mama to come home.’

  Sophie would have been old enough to grasp the rudimentary details of that day. No wonder Eliza had sent for Sophie when her stay in Porth Karrek had been extended; no wonder she was never far from her daughter. Fears that were only somewhat irrational could play havoc with the young mind. That settled it. He would go to the mine and bring Eliza home, even if it meant bearing the brunt of Eliza’s anger. He looked down at Sophie, thinking. He could not leave her here with only Miss Gilchrist for protection. Miss Gilchrist had been useless on the road when he’d discovered them. If there was trouble afoot, it might come here. Detford might be a decoy so that the way was clear to snatch Sophie.

  Eaton called to one of the maids, ‘Betty, get Miss Sophie’s coat.’

  ‘Am I going with you?’ Sophie brightened at the prospect of an adventure.

  ‘No, you are going somewhere far more exciting. The big house where I live. My parents are there and they love children. There are games and toys in the nursery and there’s a beautiful banister to slide down.’ Betty brought her coat and Eaton bundled Sophie into it. ‘Betty will take you up to the house.’ Over Sophie’s head, he gave Betty strict instructions. ‘Go straight to the house, have Sophie explain to His Grace what has happened. Stop for no one. Run if you have to.’

  Betty would be loyal. Betty would follow directions. Eaton saw them off and swung up on his horse, going as fast as he dared in the dark, and hoped he wasn’t too late—or better yet that he wasn’t late at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was getting later by the minute. Eliza had the distinct impression that Detford was stalling. Upon arrival, they’d gone to the office to discuss shares, a superfluous discussion that had had no urgency to it, in Eliza’s opinion. Soon, the last of the crew would be gone, the mine empty. Perhaps that was what Miles was waiting for. Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen by anyone. It spoke volumes about his fear of Brenley and even about the depth of his friendship for her, Eliza thought, that he would risk so much to alert her to whatever waited in the tunnel.

  Sophie would be disappointed. Dinner time had come and gone. ‘Can we go down now?’ Eliza prompted. ‘I need to get home. I did not realise this would take so long.’

  Detford turned from the window with a mild smile. ‘Yes, we can go now.’ He took a lantern from the hook and she followed him downstairs, relieved at last to be making progress. But Detford seemed nervous, agitated or excited. Did she imagine a falter in his step? Once inside the shaft, he swung the lantern around, letting the light glance off the walls. All was in good order: strong timbers gave support to the rock; the floor was as free of debris as possible. She prided herself on safe working conditions, as safe as mining could be.

  The shaft was deep and the deeper they went, the warmer it got. They reached the junction where the new tunnel had been started. Miles hung the lantern on a nail. ‘This is what I want you to see, Eliza. Look at this rock.’ He took up a pickaxe and a chisel from where they’d been propped by the wall and set to work, carving into the rock until the surface was chiselled away. ‘Look at this. The copper is even more plentiful than suspected. It’s right here on the surface, just waiting for us to pick it out. Every indication suggests the lode extends further than we have plans to dig.’

  ‘You mean further than I have plans to dig.’ Eliza met his gaze with a stern one of her own.

  ‘Yes,’ Miles conceded. ‘We are leaving money on the table, Eliza. It’s no longer just a hypothesis about what might be out here. This is the richest lode any mine has seen for some time.’

  ‘And the riskiest,’ Eliza argued.

  ‘The technology exists. The Levant mine is using it—ventilation fans to help with heat, the pumps to disgorge the water. It can be done,’ Miles pressed politely. These were old arguments. Ones she’d considered before.

  ‘I don’t know that submarine mining is right for us. The technology is still new, it is fallible.’ Even now, she could hear the sea overhead, proof of how far out they were, how very close to disaster. Should a wall give way, no one would survive such an accident. There wouldn’t be time to think, let alone to escape. She could not commit men to working under those conditions for hours and hours every day.

  ‘If you pay them enough, they’ll dig.’ Miles read her thoughts.

  ‘I will not bribe poor men to risk their lives just to feed their families.’ Eliza knew the money would indeed entice men. She could pay them to take the risk. She would not. A man should not have to live in jeopardy simply to make a living.

  ‘Don’t be stubborn. You were right to get steam power in here to replace the horses. You know technology makes us more efficient.’ Miles was cajoling now, flattering her. ‘I thought if you could see the proof of the lode, you might reconsider.’

  Eliza narrowed her eyes. ‘Did Brenley put you up to this?’

  ‘It’s good business, Eliza.’ He evaded the answer. ‘As your friend, I felt duty-bound to show you the proof.’

  ‘Now that you have, we may go.’ Eliza turned to start the long walk back to above ground, but Miles’s hand closed about her wrist.

  ‘There is something else, Eliza.’ The warning in his voice stopped her as effectively as the grip on her wrist. There was a hard edge to Miles Detford now. The cajoling friend was gone. ‘Brenley will not appreciate your intractability on the tunnel. If you will not make the decision to extend the tunnelling, perhaps you wou
ld allow me to make it for you, as your husband.’

  The thought was so outlandish Eliza almost didn’t grasp it. ‘What are you saying, Miles?’ It was worded like a proposal, but it sounded like a threat.

  ‘Marry me, Eliza, as you should have years ago. We could have avoided all of this. I have Brenley’s word he will post a retraction about Lynford and his school and about you. Allow me to take the decisions regarding the mine from your conscience. I will consult you, of course.’ She knew what that consultation would be like: patronising and useless. Detford would report to Brenley and Brenley would do what he wanted. Miles could not be her hero under those circumstances. Didn’t Miles see that? As her friend, how could he think she’d even consider such an arrangement beneficial?

  ‘Do not refuse me. It will go poorly for you,’ Miles warned.

  ‘I am not afraid of Brenley.’ She wanted to get out of the shaft, back up above ground where she had space. She felt trapped, crowded by Miles and the rock walls.

  ‘It’s not Brenley you should be afraid of at the moment. It’s me.’ He pulled his coat back, revealing the weapon in his belt.

  Dear heavens, Miles had a pistol. Didn’t he know the dangers of firing a gun inside a mine shaft? Her heart hammered. ‘Miles? What are you doing? What is this?’ But she knew. Eaton’s voice whispered again, He is not your friend. ‘You can’t fire that in here, you will kill us both.’ A gunshot could bring down loose rocks, enough to block the way out.

  ‘That’s up to you. Don’t make me use it.’ He advanced on her until her back was pressed into the rock, his voice cold. ‘I will ask one more time. Marry me. I have papers. You can sign them before we walk out of here and announce our happy news to the world. Or refuse and I will be the only one walking out of here.’ Of course he had papers, something legally binding to ensure she couldn’t lie to save to herself.