Page 30 of Rival to Resist
“Aye, sir. I’ll ’ave ’em ready for ’ee.”
Frederick frowned and removed his gloves as footsteps approached.
Oswald, who was putting on his hat, stopped short at the sight of him. Frederick could have sworn his color heightened. “Yorke.”
Frederick smiled. “I did not expect to meet you here.”
“Mrs. Tonkin is my tenant,” Oswald said, as though that alone accounted for his presence.
“Very good of you to check in on her,” Frederick said, offering him the opportunity to confess his true errand.
Oswald tipped his hat. “Good day to you.”
“Until Saturday,” Frederick replied good-naturedly.
Oswald regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then offered a small nod and left through the door.
Frederick stood in place for a moment, tapping a finger on his hat as he stared at the brim. Was there any possible way he could triumph over that man? The cards were stacked against Frederick. The dice were loaded. The votes had been counted.
“Do ’ee mean to hide there and pretend ’ee wasn’t eavesdroppin’?” Mrs. Tonkin called.
Frederick chuckled, hung his hat on a free peg, and stepped into the taproom. “I was not eavesdropping. I was simply waiting for a conversation of which I was not part to come to an end.”
Mrs. Tonkin raised a brow at him as she counted coins.
“It was a very informative conversation,” Frederick said. “I take it there shan’t be fairings at my campaign party on Saturday.”
“Believe me, sir,” she replied darkly, “I’d like to grind some pilchards into the dough for Mr. Oswald’s.”
“I would also like that,” Frederick said. “In fact, I will help you.”
Mrs. Tonkin tried to repress a smile. “’Ee know my ’ands are tied, sir.”
Frederick sighed and plopped down in a chair. “I know. But I also know that everyone who comes Saturday—supposing anyonedoes—has decided to do so more for the prospect of your fairings than to hear me.”
“’Ee aren’t wrong about that,” she said with a little puffing of her ample bosom. “’Appen I can manage to make both—if’ee ’elp me.”
“I?” Frederick put a hand to his chest.
Mrs. Tonkin scoffed. “Aye! ’Ee, sir! Do ’ee want to win or not?”
“Of course I do, but I haven’t the slightest idea what to do in a kitchen.”
“Then it be a good thing ’ee’ll ’ave me to tell ’ee, don’t it?”
Frederick smiled in spite of himself. Working in the kitchen and carrying water buckets had not been part of his plans when he had set out for Trelowen, but gaining a seat as an MP had, and it appeared such things were necessary stepping stones on his route to Parliament.
Or perhaps they were stepping stones on a path that led nowhere.
“Do you think we shall have a good turn-out?” Frederick asked.
“Aye, sir. If ’ee offer food and drink, ’ee cannot keep most of Trelowen away.”
The way she saidmost of Trelowenand her strange tone had Frederick watching her more carefully.
“And what of the others? Are they in Oswald’s pocket?”
“No, sir, but they didn’t like Mr. Brightmoor, and they don’t like ’ee neither.”
