‘There is nothing I want more,’ Jago affirmed, ‘but there is not only your father to consider. What about the rest of your family? As yet, they don’t even know I exist.’
‘They will love you as I do,’ Charity responded simply.
Jago felt his heart swell at her words. ‘I certainly hope so,’ he returned huskily.
They fell silent for the last mile, but as he finally negotiated the narrow entrance to the Tredennick estate, Charity took a deep breath, knowing she needed to ask the question before they went into the house. ‘What about your father, Jago?’ she questioned hesitantly. ‘He is yet to meet me. How will he feel about you taking a wife? Will he not think it very sudden?’
‘If my father chooses to stay in his bed rather than be brought down to join us for dinner, that is his problem,’ was Jago’s harsh retort. Then he sighed. ‘It’s my belief that the apoplexy he suffered after my sister’s death may have addled his brain. He is not the same man as he was before we lost Genevieve.’ He shook his head before adding, ‘He seems to have lost all empathy along with the use of his legs.’
Charity frowned, wondering whether now was the time to tell him that Morgan Carlyon was not as lame as he made out, but as she opened her mouth to speak, Jago pulled the curricle to a stop outside the house. He turned to face her and took her hand. ‘Iwillwed you, Charity, whatever my father’s opinion. Naturally, I would like his blessing, but if he refuses to give it, then so be it.’
‘What if he cuts you off?’ Charity couldn’t help questioning. Jago looked up at the large, grey-stoned building and shrugged. ‘Then I hope at least one of your brothers-in-law will see fit to give me a job.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charity grimaced at her evening dress, now beginning to look grubby and limp after being worn so often. It certainly wasn’t what she’d imagined herself wearing on the first night of her engagement, even if it was currently unofficial. Shaking out the dress, she gave a deep sigh. How she wished the rest of her family were here. Then, she sternly took herself in hand. They would know soon enough, and that would be an excuse for another celebration.
Laying the dress on the bed, she wondered whether there would be time to get it cleaned before tomorrow evening. Hopefully by then, Jago would have spoken to her father and they’d be able to have a proper celebratory dinner.
Glaring at the offending garment, she had a sudden thought. They were going into Falmouth tomorrow. Mayhap her father would see his way into buying her a new dress. He would grumble undoubtedly, but surely he would not wish her to attend her own engagement dinner wearing a dress that was beginning to smell distinctly musty.
A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. ‘Come,’ she called, her happiness suddenly bubbling over.
Her smile faltered at her father’s serious expression as he pushed open the door, Freddy in tow, and abruptly she remembered the letters and the Reverend’s suggestion they meet in the library. Truly she’d not given them a thought all day.
The foxhound greeted her exuberantly, and Charity bent down to give him a fuss, suddenly reluctant to hear what the missives contained. So much had changed since she left this morning.
‘Well, Charity, Jago’s father is a piece of work, and no mistake.’ He sat down heavily on one of the wingback chairs at the window. ‘You’d better sit down, lass,’ he muttered.
Frowning, Charity felt her earlier euphoria trickle away. Heart thudding in sick anticipation, she sat down on the remaining chair.
‘The letters were to Genevieve as we’d surmised,’ he stated after a moment. ‘They were from a fellow who worked at the mine. Name of Stefan Petrock. Apparently, they were…’ He paused, seeking a word that would not offend female sensibilities. He should have known better.
‘They were conducting an illicit affair,’ Charity finished for him flatly.
He nodded. ‘Seems they were in love and planning to elope.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘I don’t think they had any idea how far Scotland is from Cornwall.’
‘When was this?’ Charity asked with a frown.
‘By the dates, I would think it was not long before Genevieve was packed off to London.’
‘So her father found out and put a stop to it,’ Charity concluded.
‘Am I telling this deuced story or you?’ the Reverend retorted in exasperation.
‘I’m sorry, Father, do go on.’
‘Yes, well,’ he hmphed, ‘you’re right as it happens. Her father did find out. Our Mrs Penna was the one who tattled on them, though I think she came to regret it. According to Stefan, she even went on to act as a go between. Evidently, she hadn’t expected the Master of Tredennick to react so violently to the news, but apparently, his fury was a sight to behold when he confronted the pair. Not long after that, he sent Genevieve away.’
‘Was Jago aware?’ Charity asked, a sudden sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. To her relief, the Reverend shook his head.
‘In his letters, Stefan begged her to speak with him. He seemed certain Jago would intercede. But apparently, she refused, not wanting to set her brother against their father.’
‘So, the odious man sent her away,’ Charity breathed.
Reverend Shackleford nodded with a grimace. ‘Stefan’s last letter declared he would be waiting for her when she returned. Apparently, they only had a year to wait until she came of age. Then her father would have no say in who she wed.’
‘But she didn’t come home,’ Charity whispered. ‘What happened to Stefan?’
