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He tried again to garner some information from his enigmatic visitor. ‘Not that you’re unwelcome, of course, but if Meg didn’t ask you, why are you here? I have the feeling this isn’t strictly a social call.’
‘You’d be right there. I wanted to talk to you. Man to man.’
Despite the intense unhappiness trying him in knots, Jacob found himself having to bite back a smile. With his scrawny build and bare top lip, Peter was still some years away from being considered a man by anyone but himself, but as it would have been the height of bad manners to say so Jacob instead gestured to a chair not far from his own.
‘I see. In that case, will you sit down?’
He couldn’t deny a powerful sweep of curiosity as Peter took the proffered seat. The boy had come to see him for a reason and he wanted to find out what it was, anything connected to Meg instantly commanding his full attention.
Dropping back into his own chair, Jacob hesitated. It was usual for a host to offer their guest a drink, but did the same rules apply when that guest was a thirteen-year-old boy?
Hedging his bets, he waved doubtfully towards the decanter standing on the table between them. ‘Ah… Will you take a glass?’
‘What is it?’
‘Whiskey. Oak-aged.’ Probably older than you are.
Peter wrinkled his nose. ‘Is it good?’
‘Depends what you mean by “good”.’
Meg’s brother paused, but then folded his arms over his skinny chest. ‘No thank you. I’m more of a port man.’
‘Of course.’
He would have been amazed if the boy had tasted a drop of port in his life, but as it was currently of the utmost importance that he said what he’d come to Wellbourne House to say, Jacob didn’t want to cause any offence.
‘So.’ Settling back in his chair, he made sure he looked at Peter with respectful directness. ‘What is it you wished to discuss with me?’
‘Meg. Obviously.’
Even the mention of her name had a physical effect on him. ‘What about her?’
‘She cries when she thinks no one’s watching. Same as before.’
Jacob blinked. Peter spoke so bluntly it took him aback, the complete lack of preamble leaving nothing to soften the blow.
Immediately the desire to race down to Lark Cottage and comfort her wrapped its hand around his neck. The thought of her beautiful face stained by tears was unendurable, and it was only the need to know more that prevented him from leaping out of his chair.
‘What do you mean, the same as before?’
‘The last time you were parted, years ago. I reckon she thought I was too young to notice what was going on then, but I did.’
‘I wasn’t aware anyone else knew about that.’ Jacob felt a prick of pain like a thorn beneath his skin. ‘I’m sorry for what happened then. The last thing I’ve ever wanted is to make your sister unhappy.’
Peter’s shoulder twitched impatiently. ‘Yes, yes. But do you want her to come back and be your wife now?’
‘More than anything.’
‘Then why don’t you make it happen? You’re the Viscount; surely that means something? Can’t you find the person who really killed your brother, instead of waiting for Sir Edward to get round to it?’
Jacob frowned. ‘Were you listening to our conversation? The one we had in the shed?’
‘She’s my sister,’ Peter answered, completely unabashed. ‘It’s my job to take an interest.’
‘I see.’ Jacob raised a dark eyebrow. ‘Then you’ll have heard she wants an annulment.’
‘She doesn’t want one. She thinks she owes it to you to give you one, but if you could prove she wasn’t the one who tampered with your brother’s gig then she’d have no reason to stay away.’
