Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

T he next morning, Rob was amused to see Chadwick dressing himself with as much care as he had for dinner the night before. "You look as if you are to be interviewed for a position."

"You don't think so?" Chadwick looked surprised.

Rob shrugged. "I suppose it is, in a way, in your case. I'm just the unskilled assistant."

"Skilled enough to take Bengrove down a peg or two last night," Chadwick grinned. "The mental image of him trying to boost his mount up a siege ladder…" He shook his head, then eyed Rob's own dress. "You look pretty smart yourself. It must be to impress your Miss Stretton, if it's not for her father."

"She's not my Miss Stretton," Rob said, rather too forcefully. "Come on, let's get some breakfast."

Most of the male members of the house party were in the breakfast room when Rob and Chadwick entered, but the only woman present was Miss Stretton, sitting beside her father, wearing a plain round gown. She looked just as well in it as she had in the more elaborate gown she'd worn last night at dinner.

They chose places at the table as far from the Bengroves as possible, close to George Yelden. "Would you care to ride about the estate this afternoon?" George asked them. Chadwick declined, with thanks, but Rob agreed. He suspected he would be asked to relate tales of army life, but that was a better prospect than having to associate with the Bengrove family.

The Strettons finished their breakfast. Mr Stretton stopped beside Chadwick and Rob on his way out. "I will see you in twenty minutes in the library, gentlemen, if that is convenient?"

"What's going on, Stretton?" Lord Bengrove asked sharply.

"Merely an investment meeting," Stretton said calmly.

"Er, well." Lord Bengrove looked from Stretton to Rob and Chadwick, then cleared his throat. "This is a good time for Alfred to learn a bit about business matters, eh? Mind if he joins you?"

Stretton raised an eyebrow and looked at Bengrove. "If you wish to join us, Captain, please do."

Rob hid a grimace. But perhaps it was only right that Bengrove should take an interest in what would happen to the money Miss Stretton would bring to the marriage. Bengrove himself looked taken aback, but muttered something that sounded like agreement.

"Just what we bloody need," Chadwick complained beneath his breath.

Rob managed a nonchalant shrug. "Can't be helped."

Alfred arrived in the library a few minutes after the others had seated themselves around the table by the window. Jo saw him pause as his gaze fell on her, but he took his place without a word. It might be easier to discuss her wish to continue being involved with investments with him after this meeting.

Papa handed Alfred a copy of the canal prospectus. "We are discussing a scheme in which I might decide to invest. Would you care to look through the details before we begin?"

Alfred started to read, a frown forming as he turned the pages. Jo was disappointed, but not really surprised, when he dropped the document on the desk before getting even half way through. "Don't you have secretaries to deal with this kind of thing? "

"I would not trust an employee to make decisions involving thousands of pounds," Papa said. "Would you?"

"I, er… I suppose not."

"It is rather a lot to take in at once, Bengrove, and clearly you cannot comment on the suitability of this project as an investment. But tell me, how would you go about finding out if this is likely to be a sound prospect?" Papa sounded like a schoolteacher.

Alfred must have thought so, too, for he frowned again as he flicked through the document and found the table of financial projections. "It offers a good return; higher than putting the money in the funds, I think?"

"It does," Papa confirmed. "So would you put money into this based on the information you have?"

"Yes, why not?"

Papa nodded, as if he were pleased with the answer. Jo suspected that Alfred had just fallen into a trap, but she couldn't blame Papa on this occasion. He must be thinking not only of the dowry that he would give her, but the fortune she stood to inherit one day. Jo wanted to be sure the money would not be wasted as much as her father did.

Papa turned to the other two men. "Lieutenant Chadwick, could you summarise what you found out?"

"Certainly, sir." Lieutenant Chadwick had a set of notes with him, but he did not refer to them. "After the queries raised by?—"

Papa cleared his throat noisily, and the lieutenant paused, glancing at Jo before looking back at Papa. "After your… er, consultant called into question the estimated costs, I visited the site. The proposed route crosses somewhat marshy ground, poor for agriculture. It is also not ideal for canal construction, but does not pose any insurmountable difficulties. The predicted labour costs assume very low wages, and in my opinion have underestimated the time needed for the work. Both factors lead me to suspect that the costs would be considerably higher than suggested."

"So, not such a good prospect, then?" Papa asked .

"From the engineering side, sir, the costs are not prohibitive. But Delafield took the opportunity to make enquires as well."

"Why Delafield?" Alfred asked. "He has no engineering expertise."

Jo glanced at Captain Delafield's face—strangely, he seemed amused rather than offended by Alfred's rudeness.

"Engineering matters are not the only concern in projects of this nature." Papa said.

Alfred's mouth pursed, but he glanced at Papa and nodded reluctant agreement.

"Will you tell us what you discovered, Captain?" Papa said.

"Thank you, sir." Captain Delafield took a moment to marshal his thoughts. "Through talking to various people, I found two reasons to question the proposal. Firstly, there are mines and factories nearby that could use the canal, as the prospectus states, but the volume of goods to be moved does not seem sufficient to generate the income indicated. The report we compiled gives the details. The prospectus suggests that the presence of the canal could encourage the building of more factories, but that is speculative, and any effect would not be seen for some years."

That was one of Jo's questions answered.

"Secondly," Captain Delafield went on, "the man proposing the project is a distant relative of the owner of most of the land across which the canal will run. As Chadwick said, the land in question is not much good for agriculture, and as far as I could ascertain there is little prospect of finding minerals or coal beneath it. The proposer himself does not appear to own any property, so if the scheme failed there is not much likelihood of investors being able to recover their money. It is possible that once funds have been used to buy the required land, the scheme may fail. That would leave the landowner with a tidy sum, out of which he can pay off the bankrupt proposer."

That was interesting. Jo had been suspicious of the predicted profits, but hadn't been able to see any reason for it beyond poor planning.

"Thank you, Captain," Papa said. "It seems the first expert I consulted was correct to be concerned. "

Jo was pleased at this public praise. She caught Captain Delafield's eye, and his smile brought a blush to her cheeks.

"So, Bengrove," Papa said, "I hope you can see why it is not wise to take the information in a prospectus such as this at face value."

"Indeed," Alfred agreed stiffly.

"I am considering another scheme," Papa went on. "Would you care to take a look?" He picked up more papers from the table. "I'm afraid I wasn't anticipating quite so many people. Delafield, could you and Chadwick both read the same one?"

"No need." Alfred stood up. "If you will excuse me, my father wished for my company to… to…"

"By all means, Captain," Papa said. Alfred left the room, closing the door rather too hard behind him. Jo looked down at her hands, embarrassed by his abrupt departure, and the fact he'd shown such poor judgement. She dreaded to think of his reaction if he found out that it was her reservations that had set the investigation in motion.

"I imagine your expense account will include a fair quantity of ale, gentlemen?" Papa asked.

Captain Delafield smiled. "I'm afraid so, sir."

"Worth every penny. I do have another investment here, but as it is in shipping, it was mainly Lieutenant Moorven's opinion I wished for. It is unfortunate he had to be elsewhere. However, if you are interested, you gentlemen could also give it your consideration. At your leisure, however."

"Thank you, sir." Lieutenant Chadwick picked up the document, and the two men took their leave.

Papa was looking at her, one brow raised, but what excuse could there be for Alfred's behaviour? And why did she feel she needed to excuse it?

"I have arranged to discuss the settlements with Lord Bengrove this afternoon, Jo," he said, when she did not speak.

Not so soon, surely. She needed more time.

"That does not commit either of you to this marriage, of course. I will not sign anything until you have made your decision."

Thank the heavens. That was a relief.

George Yelden pulled his horse to a stop as they reached the top of the hill. "Best view for miles around."

Rob reined in next to him. It was good to be out of doors on such a lovely afternoon, even though riding made his ankle ache. "Is this all Yelden land?" Rob asked.

"Not all of it." George turned and pointed, indicating the boundaries of his father's holdings and describing how the different areas were farmed. Rob watched his face rather than looking at where he was pointing, liking the enthusiasm Miss Stretton's cousin was showing for the land he would inherit. Yelden wound down eventually, and glanced apologetically at Rob.

"Hope I didn't bore you, Delafield."

"Not at all. My family has farms in Gloucestershire. The land there is similar, I think."

Yelden nodded, but didn't reply, his gaze on the landscape unfocussed. Rob waited patiently—he obviously had something on his mind.

"Is Bengrove really a friend of yours?" Yelden asked eventually. "I mean, when Uncle Nathan talked about inviting you and Lieutenant Chadwick here, he said you were friends of Bengrove. But Bengrove doesn't like you, does he?"

"The feeling is mutual."

"Oh, good. I mean… er… that's all right, then."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's Jo. She won't be happy married to him." Yelden glanced uncertainly at Rob. "It's not my concern. Or yours, I suppose, but he's such a…"

"An arse?" Rob suggested, as Yelden struggled for a suitable word. "Mutton-headed stiff-rump? Bacon-brained toss pot?"

"All of those," Yelden laughed. "I thought Uncle Nathan had more sense than to allow… Oh, of course. He had no choice."

"No choice?" Rob had wondered how Miss Stretton came to be betrothed to Bengrove. Yelden was correct; it really wasn't anything to do with him, but he wanted to know. After their first exchange of letters, in which she acknowledged that her letter to Bengrove had been sarcastic, her betrothal had not been mentioned in their correspondence, and it was not the kind of thing he could have asked her.

Luckily George didn't notice anything odd in Rob's response. "They met here, when Bengrove was on leave. Jo was with Aunt Frances—Mrs Stretton, that is—but Uncle Nathan wasn't here. Her mama must have given him permission to pay his addresses. He did look very fine in his uniform."

Appearances could be deceptive. "You shouldn't worry. Mr Stretton knows what Bengrove is like, and I suspect he has planned some way of extricating her." He hoped to God he was correct. He must have sounded convincing, for his companion looked happier.

"D'you fancy a pint?" Yelden said, pointing with his whip. "There's an inn down there with good ale."

The sun was still warm, so they sat at a table outside with their mugs of ale.

"I suppose there's no point trying to join the army now," Yelden said. "They won't be needing new officers."

"Do you really want to join up? I thought I'd managed to put you off." Yelden had prompted Rob to relate some of his army experiences while they were riding. The lad had looked rather green at some of Rob's descriptions of sorting out the dead and wounded after a battle.

"You helped stop Bonaparte," Yelden said. "I do realise it can be tedious at times, but you were doing something worthwhile." He took a pull of his ale. "I suppose I'm bored," he admitted. "I can't spend all my time hunting or…"

"Gambling and whoring?" Rob said bluntly, when Yelden shrugged.

Yelden grimaced. "Never been fond of either."

"You'll have the land to manage, one day, and take your seat in the Lords."

" You could have done that instead of joining up. Why didn't you?"

"I have two older brothers and four older sisters," Rob explained. "My mother died when I was just a lad, so they all started telling me what to do. I threatened to run away unless they bought me a commission. I don't think your situation is like that?"

"Ha, no, thank goodness. But Papa leaves everything to his steward."

"That doesn't mean you can't take an interest. Find out about new methods, and so on. Visit my brother with me, if you like—he'll bore you to tears with all the latest ideas."

Yelden looked thoughtful and Rob didn't interrupt while he finished his mug of ale. Then he apologised for being so silent. "I might take you up on that offer, if you meant it."

Before Rob could reply, a horse came to a stop in front of their table. Bengrove glowered down at them from the saddle. "Where the hell have you been?" he snarled at Yelden. "I've been all over the countryside looking for you! Where's Joanna?"

"Not here, clearly," Yelden snapped. "What business is it of yours? You are not my keeper, or hers."

"I will be." Bengrove pointed his whip at Rob. "I want a word with you as well."

"You're having one now." Rob replied calmly. A stable boy came running over; Bengrove dismounted and handed over the reins.

"I want to know what you're doing with my betrothed," Bengrove demanded, looming over Rob. Rob sighed, put his mug on the table, and stood up. Bengrove didn't back off, so their faces were close. The smell of brandy was strong; Bengrove must have stopped for refreshment in several inns on his search for them.

Wonderful; just what he needed—an angry and partially drunk lout to deal with.

"I'm not doing anything with your betrothed," Rob said, trying to convey a calmness he did not feel. He longed to hit the man, but that wouldn't solve anything—apart from relieving some of his frustration. He glanced behind him to size up the situation.

"Playing cards alone with her, ‘investment' meetings with her." Bengrove poked him in the chest with each point, and Rob backed away .

"We weren't alone, and you preferred to play cards with her father," Rob said calmly. "I was invited to the meeting by Mr Stretton."

"Bengrove, what's?—?"

"You stay out of it, Yelden," Bengrove rounded on him. "You're just as bad, trying to poach on my preserves when I was away fighting for the country, not a coward like you, cowering at home?—"

"Instead of running up debts in Verdun?" Rob asked, drawing Bengrove's attention back to himself. "Living it up with your whores and gambling away more money than you had?"

Rob heard a grunt of surprise from Yelden.

"And belittling your betrothed in public?—"

"Shut your mouth! I'd better not find you've been telling tales to Stretton." He jabbed at Rob again, staggering slightly as Rob moved backwards just fast enough to avoid his finger. "Or I'll… I'll…" He poked once more and Rob took another step away, finishing with his back against the inn wall.

Bengrove smiled in triumph.

"You'll what?" Rob taunted. "Tell tales to your father? Miss Stretton can do far better than someone who'll waste her dowry on?—"

With a roar, Bengrove swung a fist straight at Rob's face, only to collapse in agony as his hand smashed into the stone wall where Rob's head had been. Rob picked himself up from the ground; Moorven's manoeuvre worked far more elegantly when both ankles could bend properly.

He dusted his breeches off and looked round. Yelden was laughing, and the serving man was vainly trying to hide a smirk.

Rob turned to Yelden. "It's tempting to kick him while he's down, but he's your guest."

Yelden nodded reluctantly. He called the serving man over and gave him some coins to settle their bill. "And if he absconds without paying," he pointed at Bengrove, still bent over nursing his hand, "send word to me at Yelden Court."

"I thought you were going to run away for a moment there," Yelden commented, once they were mounted and on their way.

"Can't run," Rob replied, straight-faced. "Not with my ankle. "

Yelden looked shocked, then laughed.

"I can't claim the credit for the idea though. Moorven used it on him after…" After Bengrove insulted Miss Stretton in a tavern full of people. "Well, it rather relies on your opponent being a bit worse for drink."

"I do hope Jo sees sense," Yelden said.

"Indeed."

"Your ankle up to a bit of a race?" Yelden changed the subject, to Rob's relief. He didn't reply, but kicked the horse into motion. Yelden would probably win on his fine hunter, and it wouldn't do his ankle any good, but a gallop might help ease his frustration that Miss Stretton was still betrothed to that worthless oaf.