Page 35 of Weave me a Rope
“Gambling, too, and keeping an expensive mistress. The earl, there, has been buying up his debts.” Uncle Josh’s smile put Cordelia in mind of the crocodile in the picture book she had had as a child—a broad grin with no humor but a good deal of anticipation.
He tapped a second folder. “Which has cost the earl a great deal of money and left him on shaky ground. He can recover, if he gets what he wants out of the marriage.”
“Do you mean Lord Spenhurst?” Cordelia didn’t understand how one man could be worth the vast sum the man had spent. Yes, he would be a marquess, but he was no cipher to dance to a tune of his father-in-law’s making.
Though it was true Lady Daphne was unlikely to find a husband of such high rank in the normal way of things. She was, as Cordelia had told Spen, a sweet person, but her mind had not developed along with her body.
“That’s a long-term investment—a marchioness’s robes for his daughter and a marquisate for his grandson. I think there’s a faster payoff. I just received the marriage agreements this morning. Here. Let’s see if ye can spot it.”
Cordelia didn’t ask how Uncle Josh got his hands on all these private documents. Her uncle had his ways.
Cordelia accepted the folder he handed to her. The thick stack of papers within had clearly been copied quickly, for she had to make her way through ink blotches and imperfectly formed letters. She sat in the window where the light was best and read in silence, following the lines with one finger, turning the pages until something occurred to her, and hunting back until she could check what the current page said against what she remembered.
The usual headache from reading could be ignored. This was important.
“It’s about this estate,” she said. “It is a swap, one of several. Both peers benefit by exchanging estates of similar value, so their interests are consolidated into particular areas, and both contribute to the security of the bride and future children. But this one in Derbyshire is the only one that doesn’t—at least on the surface—benefit the earl or his daughter. And, while several alternatives are given for the other estates mentioned, there’s no alternative for this. What is in Derbyshire that the earl wants enough he will throw his daughter into the bargain to get it?”
Uncle Josh’s grin was delighted. “Smart girl,” he said, approvingly. “My guess is coal. The Shropshire estate he wants to swap for the Derbyshire one might also have coal, but if so, perhaps it is played out. Or perhaps they couldn’t find any there. Either way, it isn’t close to the manufactories in which he has an interest, whereas the Derbyshire one is.”
“There will be more,” Cordelia guessed. “If he can slide one bad bargain past the marquess, there will be others. He is cheating the marquess.”
“I think so, too,” her uncle assured her. “I have a man creating a portfolio on each asset mentioned in the agreement.”
“So, we know why the marquess is so insistent Spen goes through with the marriage, but how does this help us, Uncle Josh?”
The crocodile look returned. “Shaky ground can be made shakier. And what has been purchased can be sold.”
“The earl’s debts?” Cordelia guessed. “But he won’t want to lose his lever over the marquess.”
Uncle Josh was untroubled. “All I have to do is find something he wants to lose even less. We will get yer young man back, Dee-Dee. And in time to put a ring on yer finger before…” he nodded in the general direction of Cordelia’s womb.
“What can I do to help?” Cordelia asked.
“Stay out of trouble,” Uncle Josh growled. “I do not want ye anywhere near these people. Deerhaven has already made a couple of attempts to hurt my business, and I expect him to make more. Especially when he realizes I am attacking back. These people think they have the right to trample all over our kind. They won’t hesitate to go after my family.” He leaned across the desk and put his hand on Cordelia’s. “I’ve told ye what is happening so ye’ll not worry yerself to flinders and do something stupid. In fact, I don’t want ye in London at all. Ye or yer aunt. Or young John, come to that, once they figure out what I’m doing.”
Cordelia was going to argue, but her uncle spoke again before she could. “I don’t need to be distracted by worrying about ye, Dee-Dee. Show some sense and let me send ye somewhere they won’t find you. If ye won’t take care on yer own behalf, Dee-Dee, think of yer child. If you get hurt, or worse, what will happen to the babe? If ye must do something, go through the papers I’ve given ye. Ye have a good mind for business. See if anything else strikes ye as odd. But above all, stay safe.”
When he put it like that, what could she say? “Where am I going, Uncle Josh?”
“I’ve rented a house in Ramsgate. The three of ye will be going to the seaside for the rest of the summer. Don’t worry. I will send ye reports so ye know what is happening. I know if I keep ye in ignorance ye’ll just go looking for trouble.”
Ramsgate, as far as Cordelia could remember, was somewhere on the coast of Kent. At least two days journey from London and far, far away from wherever Spen was, somewhere in the north. But Uncle Josh was right. She could not put the baby in danger.
“When do we leave?” she said.
Chapter Fourteen
The marquess hadset Spen a course of study, or so Mr. Morris said when he arrived and explained he had been appointed tutor again. Carrying out his lessons at least saved Spen from death by boredom. A set of estate books were part of it, though the easiest, since he had been managing an estate since he was seventeen. Morris was also putting him through a course on British law and politics, and another on how to read financial reports.
Morris was lodging in the area and came three times a week to review what Spen had learnt and to set the work for the next week. He would answer no questions that did not relate to what Spen was studying.
Spen had also put himself on a course, this one of exercises. He had the vague thought that he might one day need to fight his way free, and he needed to be fit. He remembered everything he could from visits to Gentleman Jackson’s where he’d watched the owner putting his aristocratic students through activities to build their strength, endurance, and flexibility.
He created a regimen on his own. Running on the spot. Lying prone and pushing his entire body off the floor so his hands were straight, and he was balanced on his toes. Lying on his back and using his abdominal muscles to pull himself to sitting without lifting his heels from the floor. Whatever guard was on duty watched without comment until the day one of them—Spen called him Eyebrow, because the defining feature of his face wasone single bushy brow that crossed his face, curving over each eye—suggested a correction to his technique.
After that, they must have discussed the matter, for each of them, even Chatter, began to offer corrections and suggestions for further exercises. They still would not answer his questions or talk to him about anything except the exercise activities, but he was pleased to have their advice because they were clearly fitter than he was.
The fourth man—the only one for whom Spen had a name, for he had overheard Chatter call him Mickey—even sparred with Spen when it was his turn to be on guard. Shadow-boxed, at least. “Can’t put a mark on that pretty face o’ your’n,” Mickey growled, but clammed up again when asked why.
