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Joshua looked up. “Goosefeather? The ruin?”
Mr. Cox nodded. “Its location is ideal for a mill.”
That was intriguing. The abbey ruin had been one of the mysteries Joshua had discovered when he’d assumed the title—no one seemed to know who it belonged to. That it was located on the border of three properties and a river didn’t help matters. One could surmise that ownership had been handed off through the centuries, but unfortunately, all records of it had been destroyed in the same fire that had destroyed half the abbey decades ago.
Shortly after Diana’s death, Joshua had implored Mr. Cox to do a complete search of property records, to include all the royal land grants. That had been a lengthy and costly endeavor, but Mr. Cox had at last discovered that the abbey had indeed been granted to the first Duke of Marley some two hundred years ago.
“A mill,” he mused. “Would they tear down the ruin?”
“Most assuredly,” Mr. Cox said.
“A pity,” Joshua muttered.
“Then your answer is no, Your Grace?”
“What? My answer is absolutely yes. Sell it. Sell Hollyfield. Sell everything that has to do with the duchy. Who is it that wants the thing?”
“An Irishman. Mr. Liam O’Connor. He’s made a name for himself in Ireland and would like to expand his holdings.”
Joshua pondered this. A mill would bring jobs to the area, which would be a good thing. But more jobs would mean more people in this quiet part of England. More people would inevitably mean more girls in need of education.
The mill could also bring a workhouse to the area. Joshua had heard about deplorable conditions in workhouses and would not like to be the cause of that sort of misery.
He wondered idly if anyone would miss the ruin. Some people were unreasonably attached to antiquities. He was a bit attached to it. The most vivid memories he had of his brother, John, were of their childhood. Whenever they visited the duke’s family at Hollyfield, they’d play medieval games at the abbey with their cousins.
Memories of his brother, John, were usually accompanied by a darkness that crept in from the edges of his thoughts. It was creeping now. All his concerns were buried under the darkness and he shrugged indifferently. “Sell it to him, then.”
He noticed that Mr. Cox’s jaw clenched a bit. “Yes, of course, Your Grace. But if I may do a bit of investigation to ensure there are no holds on the abbey?”
There were no holds. The only thing Mr. Cox might find was a group willing to fight for the preservation of the antiquity. “By all means. But then sell it.”
Joshua stood from his chair and walked to the window. He looked out at the road, where two carts were bumping along toward Iddesleigh House. “I look forward to word of your progress.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
“Good day, gentlemen.” Miles strode into the study, discarding his cloak as he did. “I beg your pardon for the interruption—I’ve just come from the village and asked Butler to bring tea.”
“You remember Mr. Cox, my estate agent,” Joshua said. “Mr. Cox, the Earl of Clarendon.”
“How do you do, Mr. Cox. I’ll just pop out and tell Butler to add a third.”
“None for me, thank you, my lord. I was just leaving.” Mr. Cox gave Joshua a curt nod and went out.
Miles watched him go. When they could no longer hear the man’s heavy footfall, Miles asked, “What are you selling?”
“Lurking at the door, were you?”
“Not at all. I was walking into the room and heard you say it. What do you mean to sell?”
“This and that.”
Miles waited for a better explanation.
“Hollyfield.” Joshua made a lame gesture, indicating the structure around him. “This old place.”
“Yes, I know which place you meant. When you mentioned it before, I thought it was the ale talking. I don’t understand, Joshua—are you in debt?”
“No. Or not that I am aware. I don’t want it, Miles. I don’t want the bother. It’s massive and costly.” Joshua dragged his fingers through his hair self-consciously.
