Page 86 of Rival to Resist
Frederick scoffed, leaving the paper hovering in the air, untouched. “I most certainly do.”
“This is a certified copy of a deed stating otherwise.”
Frederick’s jaw clenched, and he took the paper, keeping his gaze on Oswald for a moment before looking down at it.
Abstract of the valuation of freehold property held by Mr. Frederick Yorke, it stated across the top.
His eyes ran along the various sections of the document detailing the acreage and description of his lands, the estimated annual value, and finally the estimated capital value.
£284.
According to this, he was £16 short of the property requirement to stand for election.
21
CAROLINE
Caroline looked on as Frederick’s eyes widened—almost as though he was seeing a ghost.
He shook his head. “This is a mistake.” He held the paper toward Oswald. There was a resoluteness there at odds with his usual calm charm. Behind it, Caroline saw the glimmer of doubt.
“It is not,” Oswald replied, accepting the paper. “The valuation was done less than a fortnight ago.”
“By whom?”
“By Mr. Kelham, your brother’s own land agent.”
A heavy silence followed this pronouncement, and Caroline felt the urge to take Frederick’s hand, for there was a stricken look in his eyes that made her heart ache.
It was not the look of a man who had been found out, but of one coming to grips with something he daren’t believe—with the fact that, not only was he ineligible to stand for election in Trelowen, he was ineligible to do soanywhere.
It was the look of a man whose dreams had just been handed to him on a platter inashes.
Oswald refolded the paper with a cool calm that made Caroline want to scream.
It was an unreasonable frustration, for it was not Oswald’s fault Frederick was unqualified to stand for election, and it stood to reason he would wish to find information that would eliminate his opponent. Even ten days ago, Caroline herself would have welcomed this bit of news.
But now?
She watched Frederick with a heart sick with sympathy—and regret.
He had told her he intended to give up the election, but perhaps she had not truly believed it, for now that his victory was an impossibility, she began to realize how much she believed in him.
Across her mind flashed a dozen moments—his carrying buckets of water across his shoulders, wrassling Jago, laughing with the villagers, tweaking Jory’s ear, pursing his brow as he listened to her speak of reform, standing with cool calm as guests at Trevenna mocked him.
Trelowen would have been fortunate to call him their MP.
“May I have the document again?” Frederick asked.
Oswald looked at him for a moment, then took it from his coat and ceded it to him, a watchful light in his eye. “A copy was sent to Hannaford, the returning officer for the by-election.”
Frederick shot him a glance with one brow raised, seeming not to like the implication that Oswald thought he might destroy the evidence of his ineligibility. “I have no doubt of it.” His gaze flicked to Caroline and lingered there for a moment, his expression impossible to read, before it returned to Oswald. “Thank you for this. I must be on my way.”
Oswald watched him stride toward the door, then turned to Caroline.
But she was not ready to face him. She was not mistress of her thoughtsorfeelings.
Nothing she had to say to him was fit for this venue—or their audience.
