Justin up deliberately to spite his elder son, but despite his far greater knowledge of the old man’s estates and fortune, he could throw no light on why anyone would want the island of Fairhaven.
The door opened for a third time as Penn came in. ‘Mr Gower is here to see you, my lord. He says that it is most urgent.’
Marcus frowned, checking the clock on the marble mantelpiece. It was very early for a call from his man of business, but if Gower had managed to find him rooms well away from Albemarle Street, then the earlier the better. Remembering the previous night, his frown deepened. There was another reason why Gower might have called, of course…
‘Thank you, Penn, I will join Mr Gower in the study shortly,’ he said.
The door closed noiselessly as Penn trod away to impart the message. Justin buttered another roll. ‘Shall I wait here for you, Marcus, or do you prefer to join me at White’s later?’
Marcus stood up. ‘Why don’t you come with me to see Gower?’ he suggested. ‘I have the strangest suspicion that this relates to the business last night, Justin, and I would value your advice.’
His cousin raised his eyebrows. ‘Your mysterious gamester, Marcus? Surely she does not really intend to claim Fairhaven!’
‘We shall see,’ Marcus said grimly.
Mr Gower was waiting for them in the study, pacing the floor with an impatience that set fair to wear a track through the rich Indian rug. He was a thin, aesthetic-looking man whose pained expression had come about through years of trying to make the irascible old Earl see sense over the running of the Trevithick estates. There was a thick sheaf of papers in his hand.
‘My lord!’ he exclaimed agitatedly, as the gentlemen entered. ‘Mr Trevithick! Something most untoward has occurred!’
Marcus folded himself negligently into an armchair. ‘Take a seat and tell us all, Gower!’ he instructed amiably. ‘What has happened—has one of the housemaids absconded with the silver?’
Mr Gower frowned at such inappropriate levity, but he took a seat uncomfortably on the edge of the other armchair, placing his shabby leather briefcase at his feet. Justin strolled over to the window, still eating his bread roll.
‘This morning I had a call from a gentleman by the name of Gough who has chambers close to mine,’ Mr Gower said, still agitated. He shuffled his papers on the table. ‘He is a most respected lawyer and represents only the best people! He came to tell me of an agreement between one of his clients and yourself, my lord, an agreement to cede the title deeds to the island of Fairhaven, which is—’
‘I know where it is, thank you, Gower,’ Marcus said coolly. He exchanged a look with Justin. ‘Gough, is it? Did he tell you the name of his client?’
‘No, sir,’ the lawyer said unhappily. ‘He told me that his client expected— expected was the precise word used, my lord—that I would have the deeds to the island ready to hand over immediately. Naturally I told him that I could do no such thing without your consent, my lord, and that you had issued no such authorisation. He therefore suggested…’ Mr Gower shuddered, as though the suggestion had been madewith some force ‘…that I call upon you to gain your approval forthwith. Which I am doing, sir. And,’ he finished, apparently unable to stop himself, ‘I do feel that I should protest, my lord, at the cavalier manner in which this transaction appears to have been handled, putting me in a most difficult position with a fellow member of my profession!’
There was a long silence. ‘You are right, Gower,’ Marcus said slowly. ‘The whole matter is damnably out of order and I apologise if it has put you in a difficult situation.’
‘But the island, my lord!’ Gower said beseechingly. ‘The deeds! If you have an agreement with Mr Gough’s client—’
‘There is no agreement,’ Marcus said. He heard Justin draw breath sharply, but did not look at him. ‘Tell