They halted, but before they could look around, Gregory heard aclickfrom their left and swung in that direction.
Ecton was seated in a wing chair beside a hearth in which a miserable fire spat and smoldered. Smiling smugly, he held a pistol trained on Gregory’s chest.
Ecton’s eyes widened as he took in Patrick. “Ah, you brought a friend. I hadn’t anticipated that but…” Lightly, Ecton shrugged and returned his gaze to Gregory’s face. “No matter. The situation between us remains the same.”
Gregory arched a supercilious brow. “And what situation is that?”
With his legs elegantly crossed at the knees, Ecton smiled and swung one booted foot. “Why, dear boy, the one in which, in return for me telling you where you can find your missing chatelaine, you sign the agreement waiting for you over there”—Ecton nodded toward the desk—“on the dotted line.” His smile deepened. “That’s really all you have to do.”
Clenching his jaw against the all-but-overwhelming urge to fling himself on Ecton and throttle him before beating him senseless with his own pistol, Gregory forced himself to turn and walk nonchalantly to the desk.
After the slightest hesitation, Patrick followed.
They halted before the desk and, side by side, looked down at the documents spread on the dusty surface. An inkwell, open and half full, and a pen were arranged on the desk above the documents.
After casting his eyes over the pages, Patrick murmured, “I’m accustomed to the Scottish system. Is this what I think it is?”
Gregory murmured back, “It’s a legal document registering the sale of the Bellamy Hall estate. Effectively, if I sign this, it will transfer ownership of Bellamy Hall to Ecton, without any recourse whatsoever.” Without shifting his gaze, he raised his voice and asked, “Where is Miss Fergusson, Ecton?”
Ecton’s chair creaked. Gregory glanced his way and saw that he’d uncrossed his legs, but the pistol still remained trained on Gregory.
Ecton met his eyes and smiled, still smug. “At this point, it would, no doubt, be wise for me to state—categorically—that she’s not here. I’ve left her hidden in a place that you will never find, not without me telling you of it. I should add that she’s tied up, with no access to food or water—or indeed, heat.” Studying Gregory’s impassive face, Ecton evenly continued, “I seriously doubt she’ll survive for long—a few days at most, and they won’t be pleasant. But if you wish to cut short her ordeal”—with his head, he indicated the page Gregory’s hand rested upon—“I suggest you sign that agreement.”
With the dirty windows and anemic fire, the light in the room was poor, and the shadows in the corner of the room behind Ecton’s chair were impenetrable. Nevertheless, in staring at Ecton, at the edges of his vision, Gregory saw the shadows ripple and shift.
Smoothly, he returned his attention to the pages on the desk. “Strange. I don’t recall making any agreement with you.”
Ecton sighed mightily. “Surely you’re not going to try to negotiate at this hour?”
Gregory glanced once more at Ecton, careful to keep his gaze on the man and resist the temptation to peer into the shadows behind him. Gregory also couldn’t risk glancing at Patrick to see if he, too, had noticed that they and Ecton were no longer the only ones in the room. Instead, to keep Ecton’s attention focused on him, Gregory said, “Satisfy my curiosity. Why do you—who everyone knows hates living in the country—want to buy Bellamy Hall?”
Ecton’s grin was self-confidence incarnate. “You are, of course, correct. I abhor the countryside. Sadly, however, to live in London in the manner to which I’ve grown accustomed, I need funds.” He leaned back in the chair and regarded Gregory. “With your background, you’ll be aware of how expensive every last thing is in the capital. Unfortunately, my attempts to sell this dismal place—” He waved a hand to indicate their surroundings, and Gregory seized the opportunity to look past Ecton’s chair, confirming that Rory, Hamish, and Daniel had come through a connecting door and all three were—amazingly silently for such large men—creeping up on Ecton.
Gregory returned his gaze to Ecton’s face as, entirely oblivious, Ecton continued “—were met with a complete lack of interest. But then the craze about ironstone mining in Northamptonshire struck and attained such a pitch that it reached even my ears, and I hit upon the notion of using that—of there being ironstone under my lands—as a means of pushing through a sale.”
He beamed at Gregory. “And I was right. The mining companies are clamoring for ironstone deposits and will pay quite ridiculous sums for potential sites. The only fly in the ointment was that this estate is too small to interest any company, but if I were to add the Bellamy Hall acres to mine, then the sale is all but guaranteed.”
Ecton looked utterly confident, convinced of his own brilliance.
Beside Gregory, Patrick shifted.
Gregory glanced his way; by now, Patrick had to have seen his sons creeping closer.
Sensibly, Patrick’s frowning gaze was fixed—severely and censoriously—on Ecton. “I’ve long had an interest in mining, from when I worked as an engineer.” He glanced at Gregory. “Before my brother died, that was.”
From the corner of his eye, Gregory saw the idea that their father might possibly learn something useful strike Rory, Hamish, and Daniel, and the three froze. In the lead, Rory was only a long step from the back of Ecton’s chair.
Patrick returned his gaze to Ecton. “I still read a lot and keep up with developments, so I’ve heard about the ironstone deposits south of Kettering.”
Ecton smiled. “Excellent. So you’ll know that, with interest in this area reaching such heights, now is the perfect time to approach a company with the prospect of mining ironstone on my acres.” He inclined his head Gregory’s way. “Once Cynster’s acres are combined with mine, that is. Given you understand my point, perhaps you can convince Cynster here that I am entirely in earnest. I’ll make a very tidy profit when I sell the land.” He looked at Gregory, and his features hardened. Pugnaciously, he stated, “I want that land.”
Giving no sign he was aware of his sons, Patrick rocked on his toes. “Son, I don’t know who’s been pulling your leg or if you know that what you’ve just said is balderdash, because the land down here, barely above a river, isn’t likely to contain minable ironstone. No mining company will buy land like this and certainly not for ironstone sands, which are found at considerable depths.”
Ecton stared at Patrick, and for a moment, Gregory wasn’t sure whether Patrick had just shattered Ecton’s dreams or whether…
Then Ecton’s oiliest smile bloomed. “Very good, sir.” Beyond smug, he arched his brows. “But you might be surprised by what a little salting of ironstone sand here and there plus greasing the right palms can achieve. I’ve already got several companies interested.”
Given what Gregory now understood of Ecton, that rang true.
