Chapter 3
FREDERICK
Frederick’s smile through the window at Lady Radcliffe slowly changed to a frown as he rode from Trevenna Court back to The Silver Pilchard. Had his call gone as intended?
It could hardly have gone less so.
The prospect of gaining the support of an elderly, infirm couple had been simple enough; to gain it of a young widow who was set against him the moment she realized his purpose…that was a different matter entirely.
And that was not even taking into account this Oswald fellow, who seemed to follow Lady Radcliffe like a shadow—and who already had her support as Trelowen’s future MP.
In Oswald, Frederick recognized the signs of a man guarding what he thought his. Both the borough and the patron.
While Lady Radcliffe was beautiful and engaging, Frederick had no intention of pursuing anything other than her support. He had not come this far on the road to Parliament only to be distracted by a woman.
However, if the task of seeking a seat happened to needle Oswald into feeling threatened not only as a candidate for Parliament but also as a candidate for Lady Radcliffe’s hand…well, Frederick would not regret it.
The man was entirely too entitled.
By the time Frederick had reached the inn, however, the exhilaration of the visit had waned, and he was wondering if he had come to Cornwall on a fool’s errand. He had not made a positive first impression upon Lady Radcliffe, and she was the lynchpin of his plan.
The same young boy, Jory, took charge of Flint, while Frederick went inside for a needed drink.
Mrs. Tonkin appeared presently, showing a flicker of hesitation when she spotted him waiting at the table. She looked as though she might turn around and run.
Her reaction was enough to bring realization upon Frederick. He had a bone to pick with her. “Will you not ask me how my visit to Trevenna went, Mrs. Tonkin?”
“Goodness, sir!” she said with a breathy laugh. “’Tis hardly my place to be askin’ ’ee such questions.”
Frederick smiled in amusement. “And yet, you had no hesitation helping me pick a lace cap and elderflower lozenges for a woman who could well be your daughter.”
Her cheeks grew ruddier. “Well, sir. Never asked how old ’er ladyship was, did ’ee?”
“No, but you might have offered that information, mightn’t you?”
Her chin lifted in slight defiance. “’Ee came ’ere with the confidence of the king ’imself, as full of assumptions as a barrel o’ pilchards, so ’ee cannot blame a maid, can ’ee?”
Frederick sat back in his chair. “Perhaps not.”
She regarded him with a mixture of wariness and reluctant respect. “Thought ’ee’d be proper cross with me.”
He chuckled. “Should I be? I came in ignorance. You simply allowed me to continue in it. I can appreciate a well-played trick as well as the next person.”
She was silent for a moment, the wariness giving way to something more like esteem. “’Er ladyship didn’t like the gift ’ee brought, I take it?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Oh, she loved it, but only because of the fool it made me look.”
There was a pause as Mrs. Tonkin regarded him, one arm akimbo.
“’Ee be needin’ a drink. I’ll get ’ee one dreckly.
” She returned hastily with a tankard, which she set in front of him, then took the seat across the table.
The chair betrayed its age by a loud creaking.
“Go on, then. Tell old Mrs. Tonkin what ’appened. ”
Frederick took a long gulp and shook his head. “I cannot bear to relive it. Suffice it to say, I shall be paying my reckoning in the morning and leaving Trelowen far behind me.”
“Go on with ’ee, sir. Surely, ’ee don’t mean it.”
He turned the tankard absently with a hand. “Oh, but I do. I could stay and fight, of course. And I should like to, if only to teach that man a lesson. But the battle is already lost.”
“And what battle be that, sir?”
Frederick’s eyes lifted to hers, and the corner of his mouth drew up in self-mocking amusement. “Did you know that I came here, utterly certain I would be the next Member for Trelowen?” He laughed. “Pure lunacy.”
There was a beat of silence. “Member for Trelowen, ’ee say?”
Frederick let out a long sigh. “Goes to show how blind our ambitions can make us, doesn’t it?” He took a large swig of ale.
Mrs. Tonkin leaned forward. “Sir, when ’ee said ’ee’d like to teach that man a lesson, were ’ee talkin’ of Mr. Oswald?”
Frederick smiled wryly. “Mr. Oswald, the future Member for Trelowen. I wish him joy of it.”
Mrs. Tonkin’s expression wrinkled with disfavor. “And I wish ’ee’d challenge ’im, sir.”
“Do you?” Frederick asked absently.
Mrs. Tonkin glanced around the room, which was empty but for a man snoring in the corner, his head leaned against the wall. She set her elbows on the table and leaned toward Frederick. “I beg ’ee not to give up so easy if ’ee truly meant to.”
Frederick watched her for a moment.
“All ’ee needs is to win over her ladyship, sir.”
Frederick let out a laugh. “You mean the beautiful young woman you sent me to with a lace cap and elderflower lozenges?”
Her lip twitched. “I beg ’ee’ll forgive me, sir. If I’d known what ’ee were like and what ’ee came ’ere for, I’d ’ave acted different, to be sure. But ’ee cannot go all to pieces now. All is not lost to a man with enough gumption.”
Frederick regarded her curiously. “What good does it do you for me to campaign here? Or is this yet another plan of yours to humiliate me?”
Mrs. Tonkin drew back in offense. “I’d never! ’Twas all in good fun, sir. But I be in earnest now, I do.”
He was inclined to believe her. But he’d also believed her before. “Why?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded him with an evaluative eye. “Can ’ee be trusted, sir?”
“Of course.”
There was another slight hesitation before she looked around the room once more and leaned in again.
“The thought of Mr. Oswald havin’ more power than ’e already wields…
” She shook her head. “Ever since ’is lordship died, ’e do think ’imself lord of the village.
’E do talk and act like ’e cares for we simple folk, but I been ’is tenant for years now, and I know ’ow nasty ’e can get.
More power for ’im? ’Tis not to be borne. ”
Frederick was glad to know a dislike of Mr. Oswald was not unique to him. “But it is Lady Radcliffe whose support I require, and she told me in no uncertain terms that Mr. Oswald has it already.”
Mrs. Tonkin let out a scoffing laugh. “Oh, aye. ’Er ladyship be the key to all ’is ambitions, to be sure. ’E wants Trelowen and Trevenna, and ’e be like to get ’em, ’e do. Unless ’ee”—she pointed her finger at Frederick—“’ave the pluck to make the tide turn.”
“No one can turn the tide, Mrs. Tonkin. I may not know the sea as you do, but I know that, at least.”
“This be a tide that can be turned. And I’ll ’elp ’ee do it—long as ’ee tell no one I be doin’ so.” She sent a shifty glance at the dozing man in the corner.
Frederick sat up a bit straighter, his gaze keener. Mrs. Tonkin was only an innkeeper, but she was a formidable woman, and having an ally—whatever her station—somehow made his situation feel less hopeless.
“You truly think I can sway Lady Radcliffe’s opinion?” he asked.
“Aye, sir. ’Ee just needs time with ’er.”
Frederick sat back again. “With her and without Mr. Oswald, which seems an impossible task. I have met Lady Radcliffe twice today, and both times, the man managed to appear as if out of nowhere.”
Mrs. Tonkin shook her head darkly. “’E do stick to ’er like a burr, don’t ’e? Well”—she sat up, a smug look transforming her expression—“’appen I know of a place ’ee could find ’er ladyship without the burr.”
“You do?”
She nodded, looking all-too-satisfied with herself. “And I’ll tell ’ee—if ’ee promise not to leave The Silver Pilchard, tail between the legs, as ’ee planned.”
“My tail would not have been between my legs,” he argued.
She lifted a scathing brow. “Do I ’ave yer word, sir?”
Frederick considered the promise she was asking him to make. It was not just to remain at her inn; it was to fight for the seat in Parliament. To swim against a strong current in an unfamiliar place.
The eyes of Lady Radcliffe came to his mind. Full of mirth in the street, then hard and aloof at Trevenna Court. The challenge of recapturing the former called to him.
Besides, if he did not stay in Trelowen to fight, what would he do? Give up on his dream? Become the forgotten fourth Yorke son, who never managed to make a name for himself, destined to dwell in the shadow of his brothers?
No.
This opportunity, stacked though the cards might be against him, was the best one likely to fall in his lap. He would not forego it—not so soon, not after coming so far. His pride would not allow it.
Frederick raised the tankard to his lips, drank all that remained, then slammed it down on the table.
The man in the corner started, snorting himself awake.
Frederick ignored him, taken up with a sense of purpose and pride. “I give you my word.”
Her mouth pulled into the type of mischievous, satisfied grin that made him glad she, at least, was on his side.