Peregrine's Prize (11 page)

"And me a harder
thrashing," Nash said ruefully. "Even then Papa could wield a mean
crop on one's arse when necessary. For one who didn't believe in corporal punishment
there were times he deemed it necessary, and used it."

"Anything else?" Maggie
looked up at him, appalled at the picture he'd painted. Her papa was stern, yes,
but never ever flogged or chastised her so. He thought a period of solitary
reflection much better, and as Maggie hated the idea that she thought him
correct in his assumptions.
 
Perry
tightened his fingers tightened on her ear.

"Some. However I don't think
it is repeatable in company," Perry said, and Maggie reckoned her blush
spread as fast as the incoming tide in The Wash.

"Yes, well," she said
in a hurry. "What that is repeatable
can
you recall?"

He rubbed his chin. "It is
so frustrating. To my chagrin, I can't remember our wedding." Maggie was glad
she'd already blushed, because if she hadn't the telltale color would surely
have him questioning her demeanor.
 
"Nevertheless I know you as my wife."

Now she felt the color drain from
her. So many lies and deceits, would he ever forgive her? It was lucky Perry
wasn't looking in her direction; he'd turned his face toward Nash.

"And you for my sins as my
brother. I remember another young woman, and she was in danger?" He
wrinkled his nose. "A ring, a ruby ring that I was to give to someone. It
was something that needed to be done and neither of us wanted it? Lord, now my
head aches."

"Then stop worrying,"
Maggie said firmly, once her breathing returned to normal. "Eat and let
Nash tell you what he thinks fit." She passed Perry a knife and indicated
the pastries on the tray.

"One minute, a ruby ring.
The woman who hit me, she wore a ruby ring the size of a duck egg. Someone else
mentioned it. Oh sweet Jesus." He dropped the knife and it missed Maggie
by inches. It was a measure of Perry's agitation he didn't even notice.
"Dye, what happened to Dye? It was a woman who led the attack on
him."

"Dye? I thought him in
London?" Nash asked. He passed his plate to his wife and stood up. "If
not, then where?"

Perry shook his head in
frustration and gasped. "I don't know. Argh, the pain." Sweat beaded
his face, and his hands shook. Maggie grabbed hold of them as Nash came to
their side. Even in those few seconds Perry blanched as white as the cloth
covering the tray. Maggie dipped a serviette into the jug of ale and wiped
Perry's face with it.

How long he shivered and shook, Maggie
had no idea. Felicity slipped out of the room unnoticed, and returned within
minutes carrying a basin of cold water, which she placed on the floor next to
Maggie.

"It has to be better than
ale," she said quietly, and moved away.

Nash nodded. "Look he's
stopped shaking." But Maggie noted he didn't let go of his brother until
Perry opened his eyes.

"Water, please,"
Perry's voice wasn't much more than a whisper, but Felicity heard and passed a
beaker of the cool liquid to Maggie who held it to Perry's lips. He wrapped his
hand around hers and drank deeply. With a half-smile he handed the empty vessel
back. Maggie was relieved to see that although he was still pale he'd stopped
shaking and his diction was clear.

Perry shook his head like a dog just
emerged from a dunking in the river, and ran his hand through his hair, pushing
one errant lock from his face.

"Thank you. So, have I got
this right? I was allegedly affianced to Felicity because it was thought
somehow her father would be able to influence the safety of our country if I
spilled secrets in the marital bed. Which is total nonsense, I have always been
able to compartmentalize my work, especially with…" He coughed and Maggie
was amused to see a streak of color flow over his face. "That aside, I have
loved Maggie for many a year, and we are not wed."

Maggie swayed and regained the
rosy color she'd lost. Really she was beginning to look like a variegated
flower, it was too bad. Perry grinned. "But she is as near as dammit. And
somehow you all, and Harold have become embroiled in these plots to support
Napoleon.
Do
I have it right? I seem
to be recalling things apace. It is scary, but I am oh so relieved. Except for
the part that I am not wed to Maggie. How soon can we rectify that?"

Nash rolled his eyes. "Trust
you to hone in on that. If anyone else in our family gets married in a cloak
and dagger manner the family name will be dragged into the mire. Neither
Cecy—our sister," he said and Perry nodded. "Nor I shall we say celebrated
conventional nuptials, and it's unlikely Harry and Randall will ever have them
at all. The family reputation is at stake. As acting head of the family it's up
to you to rectify that."

 
Perry looked mulish. "As acting head of
the household I can do as I like. I want to be wed, now."

"Peregrine Gretton, don't
you think you should ask me?" Maggie gambled on the fact he wouldn't be
sure what exactly previously passed between them. She was wrong.

"I did, and you said yes.
Alas before we were able to do the deed, it became imperative I took you away
to keep you safe," he said in a triumphant voice. "Then I sent you even
further away to continue keep you out of harm’s way. Due to this our life was
put on hold. Hell in a hand basket; I remember most everything now. What a
benighted mess it all is."

Chapter
Eleven

Maggie agreed with Perry. Even
after he apologized, and insisted it was not the two of them in a mess, and
reiterated they
would
marry as soon
as possible, he still kept muttering and the pain lines on his forehead
deepened. Eventually, she shot a warning glance at Nash and stood up.

"Peregrine Gretton, whatever
you have and have not remembered, listen and remember this. There is more at
stake than our living in sin here.
That
is
the least of our worries. There's a mad woman who seems intent on harming you
and yours, and I include myself in that, for no other reason that I can see
other than you stand in the way of her and her dreams, whatever they may be.
Bonaparte's supporters are intent on destabilizing our country, some smugglers
are aiding and abetting them, and others are not. You seem to be singlehandedly
trying to solve each and every one of these problems, and you are but one man.
You need help, you need to recover, and you need to rest. So I suggest you put
your mind to all three."

His eyes narrowed and his hand
pinched her ear. His actions convinced her that her arse would once more be
rosy red at some point in the future but it had to be said.

"Please, my lord." She
hoped the intonation would get through to him. "Trust me, you must rest.
We need you."

"She's right, Perry,"
Nash added. "The more you remember the more we can achieve. You're correct
in your assumption that we've all been affected and we're all in danger, even
now. I came here this morning to see if you'd recovered and to give you
news."

 
Perry stiffened, and Maggie leaned against his
side. His other hand stole round her to hug her close. "Yes?"

Nash leaned against the
fireplace. Felicity rose from her seat in one elegant movement to stand next to
him.

What
is it with these Gretton men and their penchant for leaning on things?
Maggie remembered many
an occasion when Perry directed her to lean in various places—and various
poses. By the saucy glance Nash gave Felicity, she guessed leaning on things wasn't
the only thing that ran in the family. To her chagrin Maggie was hard pressed
not to squeeze her thighs together to hold her juices back and to concentrate on
the delicious tingles building inside her. Of course Perry noticed, and a wicked
grin spread over his face, as his hand stroked down her spine and rested
briefly on her arse.

"No." Perry's authoritative
voice sent shivers of the nicest kind down Maggie's spine. He nipped the soft
flesh of her buttock warningly.

"Yes, no, which?" Nash
asked.

"Oh just get on with
it," Perry said crossly. "Have you news of Dye?"

Nash nodded. "He's safe at
Lyddbrook Manor. When he couldn't find you at The Pike he had the sense to send
word to me. His injuries are improving, and his temper is worsening. I only
kept him there by threats and coercion.
 
He's being fussed over by Mrs. Dagwood who has miraculously been able to
return." He winked. "So rest assured there's nothing to worry there."

Maggie decided the time had
arrived to ask the question uppermost in her mind, ever since she found Perry.
"What happened to Abraham?"

Perry jerked. "My
employer?" he asked, in an ironic tone. "I wondered whether he would
show up."

Nash straightened. "Suppose
we all put our cards on the table and fess up with what we
do
know? Ladies, can I be very male and overbearing and ask you to take
these remains out and I'll clear a space on the table for us to use to plot and
plan?"

"He just wants us out of the
way," Felicity said in a voice designed to carry all around the room.
"So they can discuss things they think we shouldn't hear."

Maggie sniggered. "Are they
going to compare who has the biggest prick?"

Felicity snorted. "Who
is
the biggest prick, more like."
She lifted up the tray now covered with crumbs and little else.

"We heard that," Nash
said, and Maggie could hear the amusement running through his voice.

"You were supposed to,"
Felicity said as she left the room.

The laughter followed Maggie as
she
followed Felicity along the corridor
and toward the kitchen.

"Men," Felicity said.
Maggie heard the fondness in Felicity's voice. "Necessary but how they can
tease. Seriously Maggie, how are you both?"

Maggie leaned on the kitchen door
to close it. "He's in pain, and won't give in, I'm hurting for him. It's a
damnable situation, Felicity. All of us in danger and not knowing where it'll
come from or when. Perry recovering but forgetting things he's sure are
important, and now Nash with information we all need to hear, and I don't know
about. You and I, involved in things we don't fully understand and that blasted
Gussie Gravesend involved in all things murky. I know she was a hoyden as a
girl, but treason? It seems beyond belief."

Felicity shivered. "She
always wanted what others seemed to possess and more. I think Gravesend was of
a like mind. He is the one man I met who to me personified evil. Judith's
husband Welland, who I despise with a vengeance, was a fool, and easily led,
but not, I don't think, evil, just weak. Mortimer Gravesend was something
different entirely. He was all things bad in one body. I can only surmise he
must have turned Gussie's head and made her believe things that she never owned
or experienced were somehow her due. That she deserved more. Why else would she
be continuing his evil?"

Maggie nodded; she thought that
herself. "And poor Judith, that is an unenviable situation she and Abraham
find themselves in, and can you see a happy ending anytime soon for them?"

"I fear not. Another case of
giving in to parental pressure. Poor things, it was bad enough for me when Papa
and others insisted I marry Perry. No one listened to me, but at least with
your help I was able to do something about it. Judith wasn't that strong, and
dare not stand up for herself."

They were both silent for a few
seconds. Outside the window tiny gusts of wind swayed the trees and a few old
leaves danced into the air before being swept away.

"Ah, well, I guess we'd best
go back before they decide how little we need to know." Maggie grinned at
Felicity. "Flissy." The nickname name of their childhood brought back
long-forgotten memories. "Do you remember that although Gussie came from
Derbyshire, her mama's relatives came from Yorkshire? And she has cousins who
lived near Newark? Which is not a hundred miles from here? And who 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.