“Would you care for one, Oswald?” she asked.
“No, thank you, my lady.”
She suppressed a smile, for she understood the response to be one driven by pride. She sympathized with it.
“Be so good as to give Mrs. Tonkin my gratitude and compliments,” she said, taking the box. “Perhaps we could have Cook make some for the gathering, Oswald.”
Oswald’s brows went up. “The gathering...”
“Yes.” She kept a bright smile on her lips as she turned to Mr. Yorke. “Once the writ arrives, we shall be holding an event here to celebrate Oswald.”
A flicker of something passed over Mr. Yorke’s face, but it was too quick for Caroline to identify. “Celebrating his candidacy, I hope, rather than his victory, for that is far from a certain thing.”
“I believe you have not quite grasped the situation here,Mr. Yorke,” Oswald said. “No surprise, for you are hardly versed in Trelowen’s matters.”
“More and more versed each day,” Mr. Yorke said genially. “But do enlighten me, Mr. Oswald—in what way do you find my understanding deficient?”
Oswald gave him a quizzical look. “Do you understand how a burgage borough functions, Mr. Yorke?”
He chuckled. “Of course I do. Only burgage owners may vote.”
He was right. In boroughs like Trelowen, the ownership of certain properties came along with a vote. Acquiring one burgage meant acquiring one vote. Only those who possessed burgages were able to take part in electing the MPs for the borough, of which Trelowen had just one.
“And do you know how many burgages there are in Trelowen?”
“A dozen or so,” Mr. Yorke responded with a little shrug of one shoulder.
“And do you know who owns the burgages?”
Mr. Yorke’s eyes went to Lady Radcliffe. “She is standing in front of me.”
“Lady Radcliffe owns more of the burgages than anyone in Trelowen, yes. Five, in fact. And I believe she has made it quite clear that she will not support you in an election, which already puts you in a near-impossible position.”
“You say near-impossible; I say possible.”
Oswald smiled, and Caroline could tell he took pleasure in the blow he was about to deal Mr. Yorke.
“I myself happen to own a few of the burgages, Mr. Yorke, and I hope you can forgive me when I say that neither shallthosevotes be in your favor. Without Lady Radcliffe or myself, you see, the near-impossible turns…impossible.”
Mr. Yorke gave a chuckle, but it was more forced this time. Caroline almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Perhaps he would return to London now, knowing that it was not simply a tall order he faced but a towering one, like a rowboat and pistol against the HMS Victory.
“I see,” Mr. Yorke said, his composure intact again already in the form of an amused smile that had a sardonic edge. “You mean to tell me that, while the dice may be yet uncast, they are loaded.”
The description rankled Caroline. He made it sound as though she and Oswald were every bit as corrupt as the politicians with whom he rubbed shoulders daily.
“Well,” he said, “I hope you shall enjoy your celebratory gathering here.” With the same sharp smile that pricked Caroline’s conscience, he gave a small bow and a tip of the hat, then went on his way.
6
FREDERICK
After Frederick’s last call to Trevenna Court, he had left disheartened; today, he was defeated.
He had hoped he could turn the tide of Lady Radcliffe’s support in his favor; he had not realized that some of the votes in the borough also belonged to Mr. Oswald. Those votes were entirely and utterly out of his reach. Together, Oswald and Lady Radcliffe became an unstoppable force.
