Free Tall, Dark and Disreputable by Deb Marlowe Page B

not think it will be so easy, Mr Rankin.’
    Just like that the solicitor’s barely conciliatory air disappeared. He whirled on his clerk. ‘Useless old fool!’ he hissed. ‘I told you to get rid of them!’
    ‘Ah, but you cannot blame your assistant.’ Mateoglanced askance at Portia. ‘Anyone will tell you that I’m a most inconvenient fellow.’
    She nodded in pleasant agreement. Rankin merely sputtered.
    ‘We are here about Stenbrooke.’He let his gaze roam over the mess. ‘We’d meant to discuss a sale of the estate, but I have a feeling there might be some difficulty with that.’
    Mr Rankin not only looked like old Davy’s sow, he apparently shared her stubborn characteristics. ‘I’m not prepared to discuss the business today, sir, with you or anyone else. You’ll have to leave.’
    Mateo merely leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. ‘Mrs Tofton, something tells me that there is no need for you to start packing.’
    Rankin actually grunted. ‘She’s to be out by Michaelmas.’ He turned his narrow little gaze on Portia. ‘That’s four short weeks,’ he said nastily. ‘If you haven’t started packing, you’d best hop to it.’
    ‘I’m not so sure about that, Mrs Tofton. It would appear that Mr Rankin has misplaced something.’ Mateo arched a brow in Portia’s direction. ‘Would you care to make a wager on it? I’m betting he’s lost the deed of conveyance to Stenbrooke.’
    ‘I don’t think I’d care to take that bet,’ said Portia casually.
    A snarl of frustration ripped across Rankin’s face. ‘Perhaps I have mislaid the document. But that doesn’t change the fact that the place no longer belongs to her.’
    Mateo stood straight. ‘Do you know, I think your brothers would have some colourful cant phrase to describe what Mr Rankin is trying to sell us—a bag of moonlight, would they label it?’
    He hid a smile as she considered. ‘A bag of moonshine, I believe. Or they might say that Mr Rankin is trying to bamboozle us.’ She cocked her head at the solicitor. ‘And I do believe that they would be right.’
    Musing, Mateo glanced at Portia again. ‘Two women alone might have appeared to be an easy target. Perhaps the document never existed.’
    Portia pursed her lips. ‘He did have the deed last month.’
    ‘It could have been a fake.’
    He saw hope flare in her eyes, but then her brow furrowed. ‘Much as I’d like to believe that, it did look official enough to me.’ She frowned. ‘I believed it to be J.T.’s signature. Both Dorinda and I examined the deed, and I asked Mr Newman to look it over, as well. We were all convinced.’
    The clerk rose, groaning to his feet. ‘Did Mr Rankin not leave you a copy, when he came out to see you, ma’am?’
    ‘Keep quiet, Dobbins,’ the solicitor ordered.
    Everyone ignored him.
    Portia shook her head. ‘No, should he have?’
    ‘Well, it’s usual in these cases, but not required,’ the old man mused. ‘Certainly at one point there were three copies of the thing, right here in this office.’
    Mateo waved a hand. ‘But if none of them can beproduced, there is no proof. Stenbrooke will remain yours.’
    The solicitor abruptly slumped into his desk chair. ‘Mr Riggs will see me drummed out of the county for this,’ he moaned.
    Mateo could not help but notice that the clerk did not greet this pronouncement with any sort of distress.
    ‘But wait…’ Rankin straightened in his chair. ‘Perhaps his courier mistakenly took it back with him. Yes, of course!’ He slapped a hand on his desk and cast a look of triumph at Mateo and Portia. ‘It must be so! So sorry,’ he smirked, ‘but I’ll be in contact with Riggs and soon enough I’ll have your copy and one for the courts. I’ll file it at the quarter session and that will be an end to it.’
    Portia took a step into the room. ‘Who is Riggs?’she asked. ‘The name on the deed was Averardo.’
    Mateo stilled. Rankin’s expression fell