in skirts staggered into the room.
“Lady Trebolton?” Benna said stupidly, standing out of habit.
Michael stood along with her, holding the gun at his side, as if that would hide it from the countess’s view.
Lady Trebolton pulled the door shut with a bang and then raised the hand that had been hidden by her voluminous skirts; she was holding a gun.
Michael gasped. “Christ! What in the name of—”
The countess’s blue eyes were wide as she grasped the gun with both hands and then leveled the pistol at her target.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cornwall
1817
Present Day
“What is all this about, Ria? Why have you brought me here?” Jago glanced around at what was obviously a study.
She had led him here via several corridors, until they were so far away from the ballroom that he couldn’t hear even a hint of the noisy revels.
Ria came toward him with a glass in each hand. “Sit for just a moment, Jago. I promise I shan’t take much of your time.”
He sighed, took the glass, and sat. “I can’t stay any longer than a few minutes. You must know that I’m here to help Lady Trebolton mind the girls.”
“Such a serious, protective uncle.”
“As would any man be upon seeing the crowd you’ve assembled tonight. My God, Ria, is there a loose fish or unconscionable rattle in England you didn’t invite? You may do what you wish in your own house, but I’m not comfortable leaving my nieces unprotected.”
“They’re just young boys, Jago—remember what it was like to be full of spirit and a zest for life?”
He ignored the jibe. “What did you want to talk about?’
“What else? A union between us.”
“We’ve already been over this.” Jago wanted to throttle the woman; why must she make him resort to incivility and cruelty to get his point across?
“I think I have some information that will change your mind.”
He snorted, not caring how rude it sounded. “That almost sounds like a threat, Ria. Tell me, does it have something to do with those letters I found? Because I know that story you told me was nothing but a tissue of lies.”
“Why, Jago! I can’t believe you think that I”—she splayed an elegant hand across the draped silk bodice of her dress—“would even dream of threatening you.” Her heavily kohled eyes glittered darkly at him, her smile brittle.
Jago had to admit, grudgingly, that she made a magnificent Queen of the Nile.
“Ria,” he said, the word soft but stern. “Please make your point.”
“Cadan was involved in something that was … well, not just unfortunate, but illegal.”
Jago set down his untouched glass. “You’d better choose your words very carefully.”
“Remember when you, Brian, and Cadan took your boat out to play at being gentlemen and were brought back by some real gentlemen—”
“Yes, yes, I remember the story—I was there. What about it?”
“Do you recall the man who brought you back?”
“Of course I do. It was Toby Bligh. Where are you going with this?”
“Cadan and Brian formed a business connection with Bligh.”
He snorted. “That’s a lie.”
“Bear with me, please. It was years later, of course, during the summer of 1798. You weren’t here. I was.”
That summer—after his first year at Oxford—had been the first one he’d spent away from home. He had gone to stay with a friend in Scotland rather than return to Lenshurst. At the time he had regretted missing out on whatever larks his brother and Brian got up to, but he’d been relieved not to spend the summer caught between Cadan and Claire’s hostilities.
“Go on,” he said.
“It was Brian’s idea. You know his parents could never deny him anything. I’m sure you remember the yacht they bought for him?”
“Yes, of course I recall his boat.” The St. Johns had spoiled their only child and the yacht—sizeable and luxurious—had been a gift they could ill afford.
“Brian encountered Bligh somewhere while he was out boating, they reminisced, and he ended up begging the man to allow him to help with a run.”
“I don’t believe you.” But his words lacked heat, even to his own ears. God damned Brian.
Ria ignored the interruption. “Bligh told him to make a solo journey, first—to prove himself. So Brian did, and he ended up with a nice bit of money for his labors. The next time he went, he took a larger, more valuable cargo—one that Bligh arranged. That run went off without a hitch, too. And so, when Bligh had another cargo for him, Brian asked Cadan if he wanted to come along. Your brother was skint and miserable at