Tarporley looked round, frowning. “Yes, he’s my neighbour. Do you know him?”
The deuce! Now what was he to say? He prevaricated. “I’ve heard the name.” The boy’s frowning puzzlement showed this to be an inadequate answer. “My great-uncle mentioned him. He’s a rector and lives not far from Dorchester. He was obliging enough to enlighten me as to the gentry living round about.” It was largely true, and he hoped it would pass muster.
Tarporley gave a discontented grunt. “Well, if you take my advice, you will avoid the man.”
This was too valuable to miss. “May I ask why? Did you say he was trying to encroach on your lands?”
“The fellow does not seem to know his own boundaries. Mind you, he was not brought up to understand his lands, as I was. If they are his. Caused the deuce of a stir when he took over the property. Apparently there’s a son of old Lord Baunton, though the word is he’s dead. But Gaunt can’t prove it, so he hasn’t been able to establish a claim to the title. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, for I was still a minor at the time, but my uncles followed the entire procedure since it nearly concerned my interests.”
What an extraordinary piece of luck! But could he question the man more without revealing his true identity? He would have to find an opportunity another time, however, for the carriages were slowing.
“Ah, we’ve arrived, sir.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Upon several occasions. Weymouth is a favourite haunt of my mother’s. We come here whenever she is in poor health.” He touched his hat. “Forgive me. I must see to my sister’s comfort.”
The young man rode on and Giff slowed, signing to Sattar to catch up with him. He lost no time in passing on what he had heard.
“This fellow’s uncles must know a great deal about the business. I’ll have to cultivate his acquaintance.”
“You will tell him your real name, sahib?”
“I may have to.”
“Is that not foolhardy?”
“Possibly. But it’s the first hint of a potential ally. The boy can’t stand Piers, and his uncles may have vital information.”
He dismounted and his henchman followed suit. Giff gave Tiger’s reins into Sattar’s keeping. “Stay close and keep your ears open. I’ll whistle if I need you.”
“You think I am not watching your back, sahib? If any come, I will see them before you.”
Giff grinned. “Then you whistle, old sobersides. I’ve got to find means to confer with Delia.”
The mêlée caused by the battle-axe attempting to herd everyone into a group afforded Giff his chance. Passing close to Delia, he affected to gaze up at the ruined edifice with admiration.
“Here is history indeed, do you not think, Miss Burloyne? I must immediately make a circuit.”
She was quick to follow his lead. “Oh, yes, Mr Giffard. I would be interested to see it from the ocean side.”
“Would you indeed? Take my arm, if you will, ma’am.” She did so with alacrity and Giff began to lead her away, lowering his voice. “Quick, before that battle-axe notices our departure.”
A gurgle reached him. “She’s too busy rounding them all up.”
Locating the nearest corner, Giff strolled casually in that direction, talking of fallen stones, the antiquity of the remains and pointing to gaps in the crumbling masonry. Miss Watkinson’s voice was heard just as they began to round the corner.
“Miss Burloyne! Come back! Mr Giffard! It is dangerous!”
“Pretend not to hear!” He continued on his way, wholly ignoring the shouts. They changed.
“You too, Lord Tarporley? Really, I do not advise it.”
“Damnation! The cub is following us.”
Delia followed his glance. “He’s bringing Tabitha Leigh. It’s a good thing, Giff. It won’t look so particular for me to be going apart with you.”
“We’d best stay ahead, then.”