Page 92 of The Baronet’s Bartered Bride

“Tremarron is and has been there these few hundred years,” the Earl rumbled in assent.

“La, a real Earl, and in Cornwall! And his lovely Countess, too. Can you say, my friends, that we have seen anything so grand in these days? This is Mrs. Daw, ladyship, my old and faithful friend, and this is Mrs. Abbott.”

“How lovely to meet you,” the Countess condescended to say. “I do hope we have not surprised you too much by coming upon you so suddenly.”

“Won’t stay long,” the Earl promised. “Only meant to stop for a look-in. On our way to London, you know.” He bestowed a fond look upon his wife. “Mean to arrange some doctoring for my lady, best we can find. In an interesting situation, the Countess is.”

Her ladyship, who was gorgeous in an open robe of quilted blue brocade, with an embroidered stomacher pinned to her front, laid a hand over her midsection to delicately communicate that her interesting situation involved being enceinte.

“And Pierre Dervieux thought you might wish to invest in my mines,” Joseph said for not quite the dozenth time, as if repeating the information might make sense of it.

The ladies were seated in the larger drawing room of Penwellen, which had, during Inez’s short tenure, become a brighter, warmer place. The dust was gone from the furniture and hangings, the chairs and chaises had been arranged into cordial groupings, and the paintings beamed benignly from the walls, without their previous glower.

Inez herself, once freed from her captivity, had led their visitors into the room as if they were her valued guests, seating the Countess first and with graceful solicitation, and then seeing to the comfort of Mrs. Treen and her biddies, who didn’t dare look her in the eye. Jock leaned by the door, his crutches detracting not a bit from his authority as guard over Treen, who stood beside him looking as if the most painful dyspepsia was making its way through his body.

“Know it’s sudden,” the Earl said gruffly. He was a large man with the rounded, well-fed look of one who had been born a peer and because of it had never encountered opposition in his life. “Was only playing cards with the man last night. Quite the blade, that Dervieux. At any rate, he mentioned you were developing a copper mine, and I’m in search of an investment. Druther have a few business interests to round out the estate, you know. Support my new heir and all.” Once again he directed a doting look at his wife, who returned it.

“Such a wise notion, m’dear,” she said fondly.

Wenna brought in a large silver tray with the tea things and gave Inez a questioning look. Inez, as if she were their hostess and not the housekeeper, reposed herself on a comfortable striped chaise and suffered Wenna to set a small folding table before her, whereupon she set to the preparations for pouring.

For Joseph, that small, elegant act focused and settled him. Inez, preparing tea, the lady of his house. Everything would come right.

“I am not certain how much the land can be expected to yield,” Joseph said.

Hoskyn cleared his throat and made a small movement to put himself forward. “I believe you will find the report very promising, once you have had opportunity to review it, Sir Joseph. Particularly if you might set up a mine with a steam engine that can dig deep and remove the water that is likely to fill it. For which it seems the Earl might be so obliging as to provide the capital. Your lordship.” He bowed deeply, holding a hand to his small periwig to keep that article from slipping forward on his head.

Treen groaned. “Thousands of pounds,” he said. “Likely to yield over years.”

The Earl sent him a look of curiosity. “I say, who is the magistrate for these parts, then? Acland’s MP but in America fighting the rebels. With Burgoyne somewhere in New York, I hear. And Skrine—he’s the one in Walpole’s pocket. Played cards with him a few times as well. Won a fair bit of blunt, I recall.”

“You are so clever, milord,” his lady murmured, accepting the cup of tea Wenna delivered with a gracious smile. “I have no doubt a joint venture will prosper with you to fund the machinery, my love, and Sir Joseph to provide the land.” She studied Inez. “And you are to become the new Lady Illingworth, Priscilla tells me.”

Inez carefully poured tea into the saucer with its milk. “I have that honor, your ladyship.”

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Treen said. It was she for whom the tea was meant. “Sir Joseph is, or will be, our leading gentleman. He intends to make the proper marriage. An heiress, I am sure. Perhaps a Coryton from Pentillie, or one of the Robings from Rosecraddoc⁠—”

“Were you born in England, then?” the Countess asked curiously, addressing Inez.

“No, mum. In Portugal, where my mother’s family is from. My father was a sailor from Goa. That is⁠—”

“Part of the Portuguese State of India, I know.” Her ladyship smiled. “The Earl has had dealings with the Viceroy. He is a very clever businessman, is my love. He will be a good partner for Sir Joseph.”

“But Portugal,” Mrs. Treen tittered. “The Earl quite condescends to befriend foreigners, though one would only expect such gentility of his breeding.”

“Portugal and England have long maintained friendly relations, Mrs. Treen,” Inez said. “Our countries have never been at war.”

“My mother’s family was from Portugal,” Joseph said.

“And Queen Charlotte has Portuguese blood.” The Countess sipped her tea. “In fact they say her branch of the Portuguese royal house comes from Africa.”

Mrs. Treen gulped her tea and spluttered. Mrs. Daw and Mrs. Abbott looked with great interest into their own cups, as if reading their fortunes in the tea leaves.

“We must be along, my love, if we wish to join the Courtenays at Powderham as we promised.” Her ladyship set down her cup and smiled at Inez. “Fanny has just been delivered of her tenth—can you imagine?”

“I cannot,” Inez said, “but I wish her very well.”

The three matrons made polite murmurs, their eyes wide with reverence as they looked upon intimates of the Earl of Devon and his family, who resided at the ancient and imposing Powderham Castle.