‘Forgive my sudden disappearance this morning, Miss Shackleford,’ he apologised as the footman handed her a glass of wine. ‘Hopefully, you’ve been informed that we had an accident at Wheal Tredennick.’
‘Mrs Penna told us,’ Charity confirmed. ‘She said nobody was hurt.’
‘Not badly, no,’ Jago responded ruefully, ‘but I believed the measures we’d put in place…’ he paused and shook his head. ‘Enough. Clearly, my manners have suffered during my too long absence.’ He turned towards his companion. ‘This is my father’s estate manager, Richard Tregear.’
‘Miss Shackleford, I have heard much about you and your father.’ The manager gave a small bow even as Charity’s eyes flew to Jago’s, wondering how much he had shared.
‘Richard knows everything,’ Jago answered simply, correctly reading her expression. ‘I would trust him with my life.’
Before she could answer, a sudden commotion in the hall heralded the arrival of her father and Percy.
‘I understand you hail from Devonshire, Reverend,’ Richard commented after the introductions had been made. ‘I’m from that area myself. Where is it you call home?’
Reverend Shackleford gave a loud sigh. ‘Well, I think gentlemen that we’ve finally been brought to Point Non Plus, as my son-in-law is so fond of saying,’ he declared, pausing before adding, ‘That would be the son-in-law who is also the Duke of Blackmore.’
‘You have a daughter married to Nicholas Sinclair?’ Jago asked, his voice betraying his surprise. ‘He’sthe Nicholas you’ve been referring to?’
‘My eldest, Grace,’ Reverend Shackleford explained.
‘Do you think it so preposterous that a Duke might seek a wife in a commoner, Mr Carlyon?’ Charity interrupted, indignation clear in her voice.
Jago raised his eyebrows at her waspish tone, and Charity coloured up, fearing she’d entirely overreacted. ‘Please pardon my astonishment, Miss Shackleford. It was not my intent to give offence,’ he apologised smoothly.
‘Are you acquainted with Nicholas?’ the Reverend asked, giving his daughter an irritated glare.
‘I know of him, certainly,’ Jago answered. ‘Some years ago, he showed an interest in investing in Wheal Tredennick. Unfortunately, his terms were not to my father’s liking.’
‘Currently, he is in London,’ the Reverend went on. ‘I had thought to try and get word to him but feared that by the time he received my message, we’d either be dead in our beds or the whole smoky business finished with.’
Jago nodded thoughtfully. ‘While naturally I would welcome the aid of a powerful man such as the Duke,’ he said carefully, ‘there are other, equally powerful men who are involved in the smuggling trade up to their treacherous necks. I do not think it would behove the Duke of Blackmore to come to their attention.’ He paused before adding, ‘Unless it becomes a life-or-death situation.’
‘By then it might be too late,’ blurted Percy. Nicholas Sinclair was only very slightly lower than God in the curate’s eyes, and he was inclined to believe that the Duke could solve every problem short of death.
‘Let us continue this discussion over dinner,’ Jago suggested, noting the footman hovering on the threshold. ‘Miss Shackleford?’ He held out his arm courteously and Charity bit her lip, wanting to apologise for her outburst. In the end, she managed a contrite smile and took his proffered arm.
The corridor leading to the dining room was much easier to negotiate without risking life and limb this time round as the candles in the wall sconces had been lit, casting a warm glow over the gloomy passageway. Charity gave a sigh of relief. At least Jago’s father did not expect them to find their way in the pitch black.
‘Is your father aware of our presence?’ she couldn’t help but ask as she was shown to a seat at the dining table.
Jago cast her a rueful glance from under his lids. ‘Yes he’s aware,’ he conceded, taking his own seat. ‘Though with his health as it is, I admit to being sparing with the truth. He does, however, know we are close to unmasking my sister’s murderer.’
Charity shared a quick glance with her father as he took his own seat.
‘I can’t deny I am glad of Jago’s return,’ commented Richard as the first course was brought in. ‘I think I speak for everyone at Tredennick when I say he’s been sorely missed.’
Jago waited until the footmen had finished serving their soup and shut the dining room door behind them before speaking.
‘My father aside,’ he said, helping himself to a piece of bread, ‘we must focus all our efforts on bringing the madman behind the Hope Cove gang to justice before he gets wind of our knowledge and goes to ground.’ He looked round the table, his gaze finally settling on Percy. ‘I understand your desire to involve the Duke,’ he admitted, ‘but we do not have the time. Were his grace in Devon, things might be different, but London is a whole world away. We must needs deal with this ourselves.’
‘Do you seek to bring Jack down to ease your own guilt?’ Reverend Shackleford asked brusquely. ‘Forgive my bluntness, but my daughter’s life is at stake, and I wish to know that you have her safety as your predominant concern.’
‘Father!’ Charity protested, her face pink.
‘You have my word,’ Jago answered without hesitation. ‘Bringing retribution to the man who killed my sister has been my sole motivation for too long. I need to see this finished.’ His voice became suddenly rough as he added, ‘But I will do nothing that might put your daughter’s life in danger.’
The Reverend nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘So, what is the plan?’ he asked.
‘I have an associate in the Falmouth Customs office who has been following my progress,’ Jago confessed. ‘He’s ambitious, but honest and sees his best chance for advancement is by putting a stop to the Hope Cove gang’s murderous activities.’ He paused and took a large sip of his wine.
