Peregrine's Prize (12 page)

"Enough," Perry said
when his eyes stopped watering and he could speak not wheeze. "Randall? As
in brother Randall the excise man?"

"Ex excise man," Nash
corrected him. "He resigned his position when his loyalties to his man and
his job conflicted. He's still got his house in Devon, and I can't see him changing
that. Life is too complicated for him elsewhere in England. The gossip spoke of
them going abroad to Venice but I confess, I haven't heard from him for a
while. My life as you may realize has been somewhat hectic. The brandy is thanks
to Cecy's men."

Perry blinked. "Men?"

Nash stared at him. "How
much of your memory do you think you now have?"

"Hmm?" Perry swirled
the port until it hit the lip of his glass. "Not enough it seems. I
remember sending Cecy to Devon, and she married in a hurry. Not because she was
increasing but to protect her. But damned if I don't remember her having two
men. That's greedy, or lucky?"

"Definitely needed, and
therefore lucky. One works indirectly for you, and the other aids and abets
him. Without them, she'd be at risk, even though Randall is no longer a threat
to the smugglers."

Perry bit his lip. "It all
comes back to smugglers doesn't it? And the Gravesends of course. I wonder who
recruited them? Because I can
not
see
either of them having the nous or capability to work such a scheme out
themselves. This whole bloody thing has more tentacles than a sea monster. There
has to be a traitor in the government, but I have not a jot whom it could be. I
would have trusted my life with each and every man I work with."

 
"You did and look where it got you,"
Nash said with a wry smile. "Now before the ladies come in and demand to
be told what we've discussed, let's bring each other up to date. Papa?"

Perry raided one shoulder.
"I've not been told I've succeeded and need to change my title so I assume
we still have one."

Nash shrugged. "Who knows, I
thought you most likely to have news?"

Perry thought hard. Something
lurked at the corner of his mind. "Martin Nelson," he said and winced
at the satisfaction in his voice. "I spoke to him because I received a two
page letter, undated, with no clue to Papa's whereabouts, and no news except no
news. Martin was no help except to say Papa was fine. Fine," he about spat
the word. "What a stupid thing to say. The weather is fine—or not." A
vicious gust of wind rattled the panes of glass in the window, and raindrops
splattered like bullets. "Porcelain is fine, ditto china, not
people."

Nash grinned. "You are curmudgeonly,
and with reason. Surely you don't begrudge Papa his chance of happiness?"

"Of course not," Perry
said immediately. "But I wish he hadn't left the onus for happy families
on me. Do you know how much I resented being called Prosy Perry? I didn't have
the luxury of doing what I wanted like you all did. I had no option but to
conform, be the heir, look after you all, and keep track of the various
escapades you all chose to involve yourselves in. Then my call to work as—well,
working for the government—became imperative. As much as I wanted to, well hell
Nash, I'm a loyal subject; I love our country and will do anything to keep it
and us out of the Corsican’s and his followers’ clutches, I resented it at
times. I still do. Somehow, over these last few months I know the price asked became
too high even for me. Thankfully, you and Felicity helped me there, but there
are so many loose ends, it reminds me of the shawl Cecy tried to tat when she
was away at school. You remember, the one with so many holes and strands it
unraveled as fast as she knotted?"

Nash slapped Perry on the shoulder.
"Do I ever, she gave it to me when I went to Eton, and demanded I take it
with me for comfort. Papa took pity on me and secreted it somewhere so as not
to hurt her feelings. Anyway, that's nothing to do with this moment. I intended
to say, what can I help you with, but realized what a stupid question that
was."

"Not so stupid, you can be
my memory. Never mind the twaddle about waiting for me to ask questions. I have
the itch, and I well remember what that means. I don't think we have the luxury
of waiting."

Nash sat up straighter and set
his glass down on the table. "I remember the itch. Abe told me you both experienced
it before this latest fiasco. You still have it?"

"Unfortunately. Nash, I
don't think there's much I don't remember, not really. No doubt there will be
bits and bobs, but let's hope they're insignificant and not relevant to our present
situation."

"Well then let's get
stirring and sort all this out, because I have a lady I want to spend time
with, as do you."

"I have a lady I want to wed,"
Perry said and held his hand up." Yes, I concede it will need to be no
hole in the wall affair, above board, seen by all, and a crush with people
vying for invitations. However, you dear brother in the absence of Harold will
be my only groomsman. Randall will support Maggie." Nash rolled his eyes
and groaned. Perry raised one elegant eyebrow. "Touché?"

"I suppose so."

 
"And I suppose you have both been so busy
catching up you have forgotten to clear some space?" Unheard to either man,
Maggie and Felicity reentered the room, and stood both with arms akimbo staring
at them.

Nash felt his lips twitch: they
looked like viragos or avenging furies, except Felicity carried a flagon and
Maggie four glasses.

"I see we need not have
bothered, you've served yourselves." Maggie dropped two of the glasses
onto the cushion of a chair, passed the other two to Felicity, and swept a pile
of papers onto the floor.

Neither Perry nor Nash went to
stop her. Perry remembered Maggie in full flow wasn't to be messed with and it
seemed Nash also accepted that.

Felicity meanwhile filled the two
glasses with the liquid in the flagon, and passed one to Maggie. She then sat
hers down on the cleared space of the table. Without saying a word, she went to
the escritoire situated near the window, and took paper, ink and two quills from
in it. Still in silence she returned to the table, dipped one quill into the
ink pot and began to write.

Maggie stared at both men, but
didn't speak. She sat next to Felicity, and sipped her wine, occasionally pointing
at something Felicity wrote down.

Perry glanced at Nash who raised
one eyebrow and rolled his glass between his fingers. Neither spoke.

 
The scratching of the quill began to grate on Perry's
nerves. He took a quick look at Nash who tapped his fingers on his leg.
Evidently he was similarly affected. Perry pressed his nails into his hands;
there was no way he would comment.

"So are we in the
doghouse?" Nash asked after several minutes. "Deigned to be thrown a
bone when you think fit. Because I can tell you now, we were talking to ensure
your safety."

 
Felicity put down her quill. "Good,
because so were also we, about yours that is. Though I fail to see how, as a
man, you cannot complete more than one task at once. Clear the table as asked
and talk at the same time. We have washed up the dishes, tidied up and managed to
discuss things we felt needed addressed."

 
Nash grinned. "And we love you for it. Oh
love, we apologize, don't we, Perry?" He kicked his brother. Perry
grunted.

"Oh, ah yes."

 
Maggie shook her head. "A more sorry
apology I have yet to hear. However it will do for now."

"Until you get to Rundle and
Bridge," Felicity interjected. "I'm sure you'll find the appropriate
jewelry there."

The look on both men's faces was
enough for Maggie to hide her grin behind her hand. Felicity wasn't s
circumspect. She giggled.

Nash noticed and stood up to
stand next to her. "That amuses you?"

Felicity winked and Perry was
hard pressed not to laugh. It seemed his brother had found his match.

"Not at all," she said.
"I find it sad."

It was all too much for Perry: he
roared with laughter, and noticed how Maggie sniggered behind her hand.

"She's won that hand I believe,"
Perry said, then sobered. After all they were trying to do something important,
and he and Nash did have things to contribute. "In all truth we started to
talk and everything else went by the wayside. I think we need to combine our
facts now, and try to get moving. I have a wedding to plan."

"Gretna?" Maggie asked
him. The hopeful note in her voice made him smile; it did seem as they were of
a like mind. "Soon?"

"Sadly no, Gretton Court at
the least, London and Hanover Square more likely. And I guess your blasted
cousin will need to be asked to help officiate."

"Nooooo," Maggie and Felicity
answered him in unison.

"You want to get married in
an hour or so service, not one that takes all day," Felicity said. "I
fail to see why you earned the sobriquet prosy, that belongs to Frederick, no
doubt of that."

Maggie nodded. "It's true.
He is so long winded, even the Bishop warned him to cut his sermons, and the
Bishop is not one who gives short sermons himself. Perhaps if we must, just a
reading—a short one."

"If we are to uphold the
honor of the Grettons I fear we must. However there's the small matter of Papa,"
Nash said. "It would be preferable to have him there."

"I'm not waiting until he
decides to return to us," Perry said in a very stubborn tone. "I want
to make sure my heir is legitimate."

"Perry," Maggie's hands
went to her red cheeks and he felt contrite. However as they all knew fine well
what went on behind closed doors he didn't think Nash and Felicity would be
bothered by his bluntness and they weren't.

"I should think not,"
Nash said. "After all as heir you're supposed to set an example."

 
Perry smirked. "I have."

"Oh you two stop now,"
Maggie looked as if she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "It's getting
late, and we have achieved very little. I assume Nash and Felicity aren't going
anywhere tonight?"

"Only to bed," Nash
said and then held his hands up. "Peace, yes enough, let's get knuckled
down. Who's going first?"

"To bed?" Perry asked.
"I would be happy to do so, except, alas, I think we need to work before I
could rest easy. So let's work and then our rest will be so much easier."

Chapter
Thirteen

The table was covered with sheets
of paper in Felicity's neat script, empty glasses and plates with nothing but
crumbs on. The grandfather clock struck one, and Maggie yawned. In some ways
they'd achieved a lot in the last few hours, in others they were no further
forward.

"Let me sum this up,
then." Perry shut his eyes and then opened them immediately. "Sorry, my
lack of restful sleep is catching up on me." He steepled his hands and
rested his chin in them.

Maggie looked inside a covered
jug. It was empty. "Do you want more tea? I can heat the water and make
some."

Perry shook his head
as Nash groaned. "I'm awash. No, I'll summarize, we'll decide what's next
and then we sleep. I suspect tomorrow, or rather today, will be hectic. Now correct
me where I'm wrong." He took a deep breath. The tiredness in his eyes, and
the worry lines on his face were obvious for anyone to see. Maggie hoped that
once he lay down to sleep he'd rest the day away. In fact she'd make him, even
if it meant locking the door and pocketing the key.

"So, we know that someone is
selling secrets to France, and using smugglers to get them across the channel. Plus
smuggling silks and brandy into this country. We know Mortimer Gravesend was a
ringleader, though not
the
ringleader.
And now he's dead we suspect Gussie has taken his place." Perry rubbed his
eyes. "Correct so far?"

Nash nodded. "We also
suspect that she was instrumental in sending the message to make you move
Maggie from the cottage on the heath, and have her live at the manor for safety.
Not, I think, because she cared one iota about Maggie, but to make you on
edge."

"She succeeded," Perry
said, not best pleased his annoyance showed. "But I still wonder why I
received the note. It removed a lever they could have used. I would not have
allowed any harm to come to Maggie."

"However would they know
that?" Felicity said. "After all you lived on the heath together, not
in town. Maybe they thought you weren't as serious as you are."

"Maybe. Then things went
quiet for a few months. Do we know why?"

"I think she genuinely
mourned Mortimer," Maggie said. "And then she plotted revenge. She
started to unsettle you and make you worry, so perhaps she blamed you for her
loss. Or rather, losses because I'm sure the lack of silks and satins would be
a grievous blow to her. Gussie was always shallow."

"Well indirectly she was
correct, though 'twould be perhaps correct to blame Cecy and Randall. No matter
'tis my family who caused her hurt, it was her husband who was the traitor. Now
we need to silence her but not before we find out who her master is."