Tall, Dark and Disreputable (7 page)

‘Damn it all, but it
must
be here! Where the hell else would it be?’

Mateo cleared his throat.

The clerk jerked about. Up over the desk rose a set of sandy eyebrows and a pair of small, narrowed blue eyes.

‘Well, well, Mrs Tofton,’ Mateo mused. ‘It does appear that we have come at an inopportune time.’

The piggish eyes were joined by the rest of the man. Mateo caught the scent of alcohol, noted the red, bloated face and ample belly and was reminded strongly of his sea-cook’s stories about Davy’s drunken sow.

‘Yes, yes—a most inconvenient time.’ He waved a dismissive hand and attempted an apologetic expression. ‘So sorry, but you’ll have to come back another day.’

Mateo narrowed his gaze. ‘Oh, I do not think it will be so easy, Mr Rankin.’

Just like that the solicitor’s barely conciliatory air disappeared. He whirled on his clerk. ‘Useless old fool!’ he hissed. ‘I told you to get rid of them!’

‘Ah, but you cannot blame your assistant.’ Mateo
glanced askance at Portia. ‘Anyone will tell you that I’m a most inconvenient fellow.’

She nodded in pleasant agreement. Rankin merely sputtered.

‘We are here about Stenbrooke.’He let his gaze roam over the mess. ‘We’d meant to discuss a sale of the estate, but I have a feeling there might be some difficulty with that.’

Mr Rankin not only looked like old Davy’s sow, he apparently shared her stubborn characteristics. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss the business today, sir, with you or anyone else. You’ll have to leave.’

Mateo merely leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. ‘Mrs Tofton, something tells me that there is no need for you to start packing.’

Rankin actually grunted. ‘She’s to be out by Michaelmas.’ He turned his narrow little gaze on Portia. ‘That’s four short weeks,’ he said nastily. ‘If you haven’t started packing, you’d best hop to it.’

‘I’m not so sure about that, Mrs Tofton. It would appear that Mr Rankin has misplaced something.’ Mateo arched a brow in Portia’s direction. ‘Would you care to make a wager on it? I’m betting he’s lost the deed of conveyance to Stenbrooke.’

‘I don’t think I’d care to take that bet,’ said Portia casually.

A snarl of frustration ripped across Rankin’s face. ‘Perhaps I have mislaid the document. But that doesn’t change the fact that the place no longer belongs to her.’

Mateo stood straight. ‘Do you know, I think your brothers would have some colourful cant phrase to describe what Mr Rankin is trying to sell us—a bag of moonlight, would they label it?’

He hid a smile as she considered. ‘A bag of moonshine, I believe. Or they might say that Mr Rankin is trying to bamboozle us.’ She cocked her head at the solicitor. ‘And I do believe that they would be right.’

Musing, Mateo glanced at Portia again. ‘Two women alone might have appeared to be an easy target. Perhaps the document never existed.’

Portia pursed her lips. ‘He did have the deed last month.’

‘It could have been a fake.’

He saw hope flare in her eyes, but then her brow furrowed. ‘Much as I’d like to believe that, it did look official enough to me.’ She frowned. ‘I believed it to be J.T.’s signature. Both Dorinda and I examined the deed, and I asked Mr Newman to look it over, as well. We were all convinced.’

The clerk rose, groaning to his feet. ‘Did Mr Rankin not leave you a copy, when he came out to see you, ma’am?’

‘Keep quiet, Dobbins,’ the solicitor ordered.

Everyone ignored him.

Portia shook her head. ‘No, should he have?’

‘Well, it’s usual in these cases, but not required,’ the old man mused. ‘Certainly at one point there were three copies of the thing, right here in this office.’

Mateo waved a hand. ‘But if none of them can be
produced, there is no proof. Stenbrooke will remain yours.’

The solicitor abruptly slumped into his desk chair. ‘Mr Riggs will see me drummed out of the county for this,’ he moaned.

Mateo could not help but notice that the clerk did not greet this pronouncement with any sort of distress.

‘But wait…’ Rankin straightened in his chair. ‘Perhaps his courier mistakenly took it back with him. Yes, of course!’ He slapped a hand on his desk and cast a look of triumph at Mateo and Portia. ‘It must be so! So sorry,’ he smirked, ‘but I’ll be in contact with Riggs and soon enough I’ll have your copy and one for the courts. I’ll file it at the quarter session and that will be an end to it.’

Portia took a step into the room. ‘Who is Riggs?’she asked. ‘The name on the deed was Averardo.’

Mateo stilled. Rankin’s expression fell again.

‘Enough!’ Mateo barked, suddenly impatient. ‘I have had my fill of these games. Mrs Tofton, who is the local magistrate? He can sort through this mess better than you or I.’

‘No!’ Rankin reached out a pleading hand.

The clerk’s mouth twitched. ‘The magistrate threatened to ride him out of town on a rail himself, should he catch him in another questionable bit of business.’

‘Shut
up
, Dobbins,’ Rankin growled.

‘Let’s go,’ Mateo said to Portia.

‘Please!’Rankin called. He stepped around the desk. ‘You’ll put my livelihood at risk, all for a misplaced piece of paper?’

‘Yes,’ Mateo said over his shoulder. ‘And with the same amount of pleasure that you have shown in displacing Mrs Tofton.’ He placed his hand on Portia’s elbow and stepped towards the door.

It was the clerk who spoke out. ‘Ma’am, I’m thinking you’ll want to hear his end of it.’

Mateo glanced over his shoulder.

Rankin’s shoulders slumped. ‘Come back,’ he said with a wave. ‘I’ll tell you.’ He looked up sharply. ‘But you’ll have to agree not to run telling tales to the magistrate.’

Mateo raised a quizzical brow at Portia. She nodded. Together they turned back, and he swept a pile of files from a chair for her. She arranged the heavy skirts of her habit, and once she was seated, he perched on the edge, firmly telling himself to ignore her sweetly spiralling scent. ‘Let’s hear the whole of it,’ he said.

Rankin took his seat again. He shrugged and darted a look of ill-concealed dislike at Portia. ‘There’s not so much to tell. Everyone knows her husband was a gambler and a wastrel.’

Portia flinched. Mateo leaned forwards, scowling. ‘The whole of it, where you are concerned,’he growled.

Rankin returned his glare. ‘It’s simple enough. Her husband used the estate as a stake in a card game. And lost. My client is someone who I have collaborated with before, handling his business matters in this part of the country. He sent the deed over by courier, along with signed statements of witnesses who were present when Mr Tofton lost his estate.’

Next to him, Portia tensed further. Her fists clenched
in her lap and the elegant column of her neck tightened. Mateo had to blink and stop himself from running a soothing finger down the slender length of it.

‘I looked everything over carefully. It was all in order. So I travelled over to Stenbrooke to deliver the news,’ concluded Rankin.

Mateo listened with only half an ear. His brain was sifting through the man’s words, hearing everything that he did
not
say, but his gaze was still caught by the contrast of Portia’s creamy skin and thick, honeyed hair. He could see her pulse, beating steadily right at the tip of a richly curling lock of hair. The curl fluttered, shifting just the tiniest bit with each beat of her heart.

The clerk, still hovering at the filing cabinet where his employer had flung him, cleared his throat. Loudly. Then he did it again.

Mateo jerked his gaze away. ‘Is there something you’d like to add, sir?’

‘No,’Rankin answered for him—and viciously. ‘Absolutely, there is not.’

‘He come back from the lady’s estate chortling over their reactions,’ the clerk said defiantly. ‘Those ladies were shocked and devastated, and he enjoyed every moment of it.’

‘Hold your tongue, old man.’ The threat in Rankin’s tone was clear.

‘I’ve held it long enough,’ the clerk replied. He focused his attention on Portia. ‘I am old,’ he said simply. ‘I worked thirty years for my last employer, but they sent me out to pasture, wanted new blood. I took
this job because I thought no one else’d have me. But I can’t abide the sick feeling it gives me.’

He raised his chin. ‘Don’t want to retire; I’d likely go mad with boredom. I’d like a nice, quiet position, though.’

Mateo’s mouth quirked. ‘It just so happens that Mrs Tofton is the controlling owner of a fleet of merchant ships. I’m sure she could find you something to your liking, should you have something she’d like to hear in exchange.’

Rankin stood. ‘That’s enough! I’ve told you what I know—you can’t go stealing my employees right out from under my nose.’ He cast a malevolent look at his clerk. ‘Even if they are traitorous dogs.’

Portia stood suddenly. ‘I’ve had as much of your company as a lady can tolerate, Mr Rankin.’She turned to the clerk. ‘Mr…?’

He bobbed his head. ‘Dobbins, ma’am.’

‘Mr Dobbins. I am certain we could find a quiet task verifying manifests or something similar. I’m sure we could round up a raised desk, a cushioned chair and an increase in pay. Does that sound to your liking?’

The clerk’s eyes lit up. ‘It does indeed, ma’am.’

She shot a dark look at Rankin, and then held her arm up invitingly to Dobbins. ‘Then let us go, sir. I’m quite anxious to hear what you have to say.’

‘Now, just a minute!’ Rankin objected, starting around his desk once more. ‘I won’t have—’

Mateo stepped in front of the man. ‘You won’t have an office, a business or all of your teeth, should I hear another word from you. Or another word about you,
either. As of this minute, this affair is none of yours.’ He grasped the man by his oversized waistcoat and pulled him in close. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

Mateo pushed him away. Without another word he hastened after Portia and the clerk. They’d reached the outer office and were just stepping into the bustle of the street when he caught up with them.

‘Well, Mr Dobbins, I’d like to hear just what you can tell us. Now, before we go any further.’

‘Perhaps we could find a spot to sit down?’ Portia interrupted. ‘Poor Mr Dobbins has had quite a morning. I can feel your arm trembling,’ she said kindly to the man. ‘There’s a bench in front of that bookshop, down the street. Can you make it there?’

‘Surely I can, Mrs Tofton, thank you.’

They set off. At the clerk’s shuffling gait it took several long minutes to reach the spot. Mateo was bursting with impatience again by the time they arrived. All thoughts of Portia’s elegant nape and appealing new confidence aside, his mind was already drifting towards the sea, to the difficulties he was going to have to face back in Philadelphia. He needed to wrap this transaction up, and quickly, before he actually gave into temptation and touched that dancing curl of honeyed hair.

‘Smartly, Dobbins,’ he ordered once the old clerk had settled on to the bench and leaned back gratefully into the warmth of the sun. ‘Let’s hear what you have to offer.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ Dobbins said with a flash of humour in his eyes. He sighed. ‘Rankin told you the truth, ma’am.’ He smiled at Portia. ‘Just not all of it.’

‘What is it that you thought I needed to know?’ she asked softly.

‘Just what you started to find out for yourself. The client Rankin mentioned was Mr Riggs. He’s a scientific type, an agriculturist—always trying to find a way to get a bigger, faster crop, or the harvest in quicker. He has a great tract of land outside Marlborough. Longvale, it’s called. But he also searches out small parcels of land in different areas and uses them in his experiments.’

‘Mr Rankin told my companion that his employer would likely plough Stenbrooke under, but Riggs was not the name on the deed.’

‘Exactly, ma’am! Riggs leased a bit of land from Rankin, then asked him to keep an eye out for more in this area. Oh, he found him a few lots, but he skimmed a little cream off the top of the deals, if you know what I mean.’

‘And Riggs found him out?’ Mateo asked.

‘He did. But he told him he would not turn him in—not if he handled this Stenbrooke case, fast and quiet-like.’ He looked to Portia. ‘Averardo is the one who won your estate at cards. I don’t know why he didn’t handle the conveyance himself, but he sent the documents out to Riggs, who sent them on to Rankin. Sent them by courier, in fact, and that fellow stayed here while Rankin set the conveyance in motion. Mighty curious man, that courier. Highhanded, I’d call him. He asked a lot of questions of Rankin, once he come back from Stenbrooke.’

‘What sort of questions?’ Mateo demanded.

‘Oh, he wanted to know who was with Mrs Tofton,
and how did she take the news, that sort of thing.’ Dobbins patted Portia’s hand.

‘And do you believe the courier took the deed with him when he left?’

‘Must have done. It’s not in that office and there’s been no chance to file it with the courts. Won’t reconvene until quarter day.’

Mateo felt a surge of hope. All he needed was to find this Averardo before the next quarter day, before there was any chance of that conveyance being recorded. It would be simple enough then to make the man a generous offer. The deed and any copies would be destroyed and Stenbrooke would remain Portia’s as if the conveyance had never happened. Most importantly, he could be out of England and on his way to Philadelphia, with no need to wait for another deed to be drawn up, no need to involve clerks, solicitors or courts at all.

Mr Dobbins had reached a similar conclusion. ‘You’ll want to find Averardo, should you wish to buy Stenbrooke back,’ he told Portia.

‘Do you know where we might find him?’she asked.

‘I don’t know the first thing about him. Mr Riggs is the man to ask,’ Dobbins spoke kindly.

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Dobbins. I’ve heard of Mr Riggs and his work.’ She smiled at the old man. ‘Now, what are we to do with you?’

Mateo fished out his purse. ‘Are you familiar with Portsmouth, Mr Dobbins?’

‘I know where it is,’ the clerk replied cautiously.

‘Then take this.’ Mateo gestured and counted out a
fistful of coins to the man. ‘Make your way there and in Union Street you’ll find offices for Cardea Shipping. Talk to Mr Salvestro—he’s the agent there. Tell him that I—’ He stopped and cursed inwardly. ‘Tell him that
we
sent you. We’ll write ahead so you’ll be expected. By the time you arrive, they’ll have a satisfying position set up for you.’ He raised a questioning brow. ‘Will you have any difficulty with that?’