Peregrine's Prize by Raven McAllan Page A

died
and…"
    "Left her the
property." Felicity finished for her. "I bet the men don't know that."

 
    Chapter
Twelve
     
    Perry twirled the glass of port
around in his hands, and watched as the light caught the ruby red liquid and
made it glow. "How can it be this late in the day? It seems no time since
I got up and discovered the three of you in a clinch." He laughed. "It's
amazing how a searing flash of intense jealousy could unlock my mind. I swear I
plotted how to commit murder, until I realized you were familiar." He
sipped his drink. It flowed down his throat like silk. "A good port, smooth
and rounded. Where did it come from?"
    Nash held his glass up to the
window, and stared at it. "Randall." He moved his goblet to his mouth
and drank.
    Perry copied his movements and
then spluttered on the mouthful he swallowed, and began to cough. Nash patted
him on the back with more force than Perry thought necessary.
    "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