by Rebecca King
“Hardly that, now, was it Scraggan? You bullied people, murdered those who didn’t want to cooperate, and stole from anyone and everyone who tried to hold out against you. You were ruthless.”
The smaller man shrugged unconcernedly. “They didn’t have my intelligence,” he spat.
“You threatened them with death. That’s hardly intelligent, is it?” Peter snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t decide if the man was incredibly arrogant, or incredibly stupid.
“It worked. I made my fortune. I read the broadsheets detailing what you’d done to my family, and had to sit and wait for Rogan to come to me. I didn’t know whether he was dead or alive for days, and had to carry on as though nothing had happened.” His thin face scrunched up as he stared out toward the sea. “You should know all about that.”
Peter swore inwardly, refusing to betray any emotion and give the small man the satisfaction.
“It was easy to set the bitch up,” Scraggan’s voice dropped to a contemptuous whisper, his hard gaze sweeping over Jemima from head to foot. “She was so worried for that brainless sister of hers that she fell for our claim that we had Eliza, hook, line and sinker. She arrived at our meeting place as instructed, just in time to hold the evidence.”
“She didn’t really have much of a choice, did she?” Peter snarled. “She didn’t deserve what you put her through.”
“She is your whore. We watched you chase after her like a dog after a bitch in heat. You care about her. It’s not nice to be helpless and unable to protect those you care about, is it?”
Peter was determined not to allow him to control the conversation. This was probably the only time he would have a conversation with Scraggan, and he wanted answers.
“So you and Rogan were running one gang, and the rest of your family running another nearby. You then left and set up your operation in Cornwall, and allowed Rogan to join you when the gang he was running met with justice. You both ran the gangs here in Cornwall until Jemima’s father lifted his head above the parapet, and started asking too many questions. You know he took vital information about you to the War Office,” Peter smiled to himself as Scraggan shot a startled look at him, “and were determined that he shouldn’t make a return journey. You slaughtered him before he got home, and were worried that the ladies also had information on you; that’s why they had to be killed, wasn’t it?” Peter didn’t wait for Scraggan’s answer. Ignoring the smaller man’s impatient shuffling, he continued to muse as though in deep thought. “Of course, you hadn’t realised they would be so clever as to evade you for nigh on twelve months.”
Scraggan interrupted, the words practically bursting from him. Clearly the man was an egotist.
“We weren’t trying to kill them, we just needed to know what information they had and didn’t realise they were connected to you until we saw you together in Devon. Then it all fell into place and I knew just how you were going to pay.”
Peter frowned, and stared thoughtfully at the man before him. He let the silence stretch out, knowing that Scraggan wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from boasting further about his crimes.
Sure enough, he soon broke the silence.
“At first I ordered the men to arrange your riding accident. I’d hoped you’d suffer more injuries, but it wasn’t enough. We watched you for long enough to know she meant a lot to you. It didn’t take much to make our presence known to her at her aunt’s house and get her running. We knew you would give chase.” Scraggan sniggered, clearly proud of his ability to scare people.
“We knew where you both were, right up to the day she got a job in Derby. My men were better than yours and tracked her all the way inland. They were under instruction to sit and wait, and if she appeared in public they were to make their presence felt. It worked because you couldn’t find her, could you, Peter? You practically overturned every stone, searched every house, and you hadn’t got a bloody clue where she was. Every time you got too close, my men appeared and frightened her back indoors. It was all very clever, really.”
“But why put so much manpower into keeping her in Derby? I mean, you knew she hadn’t got any valuable information on her, so why not return to Cornwall and get on with your life?”
“Because that bloody idiot’s uncle messed things up when we paid him to kill your sister. You deserve to suffer,” Scraggan snarled.
Peter froze, and stared coldly at the man before him. He tried to keep the shock from his face. “Rupert?”
“Aye, that’s him. I paid him and that strange friend of his a high price to kill your sister, but they got greedy and didn’t think I would mind.”
Peter held up a hand as he tried to absorb the latest revelation. “Isobel,” he repeated dully, wondering if Scraggan was just taking a stab in the dark and was trying to claim another family near miss as his own, just to try to twist the knife.
“Would have killed two birds with one stone if Rupert and his friend had done what they were supposed to and killed the woman who was not only Dominic Cavendish’s wife, but your sister as well.”
“You paid Rupert to murder his niece!” Peter’s stomach churned at the devastation that had swept through the family. “Were you also behind the men who beat up Dominic that night?”
Scraggan smiled gleefully and thumped his chest. “Yes, they were mine! They were told not to kill him, just make him suffer. I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him alive to spend the rest of his days grieving for the woman he had watched die. I traded Rupert and DeLisle seats on a frigate out of Cornwall for her death.”
Peter fought the urge to curse. “You picked the wrong people to help you with those two, Scraggan,” he said, stunned to learn just how deeply Scraggan’s malice ran.
He was disturbed by the sheer evil now standing before him, and wondered if there was going to be a way out of this after all. He daren’t tear his gaze away from Scraggan and check on Jemima, although he was painfully aware that she had yet to speak. Since Scraggan’s appearance on the path behind them, she hadn’t moved a muscle.
“What about Sebastian? Were you behind his attempted murder too?”
Scraggan studied him carefully for a moment but regretfully shook his head. “No, I thought about it, but someone else beat me to it. It seems that you and the Cavendish mob have more than your fair share of enemies who want you dead. I didn’t need to do a thing on that one, although I did have a chuckle when I read the broadsheet the next week telling us about the near-death experience of his woman.”
Peter knew he had to be careful and not antagonise Scraggan until he was ready. “You have been busy. But why chase after Eliza with so much determination? I mean, you had the pick of the two of them, so why follow her?”
“Because, the longer the sisters stayed in hiding, the more I realised that they held something on us and wanted to keep it a secret. Someone in the village has been telling tales about us and I need to know who. When Eliza ran, we sent men after her to try and get the information off her, but unfortunately the men failed at first, so I sent Rogan up to Derby to oversee the running of the operation. He told me that he ordered the men not to kill her but just follow to see why she was heading to Padstow. I was waiting in Padstow to question her personally, only she changed her mind and went to Derby to try and save her sister instead.”
“It’s a lot of effort to go to in order to find out if someone has any information on you. You must have been up to a lot, to be so worried.”
“I’m not worried; I just don’t like leaving loose ends, and I should have dealt with these two the first time they stepped out of their house just after their father died.” Scraggan’s voice was filled with remorse at his lack of foresight.
Still struggling with the information Scraggan had given him, Peter was an instant too late and watched in horror as Scraggan lunged forward. The smaller man was sure-footed on the slippery stones, yanking heavily on the loose folds of Jemima’s cloak and unbalancing her.
Peter grabbed at he
r but clutched at thin air as Jemima was dragged swiftly toward the edge of the cliff. Scraggan turned to glance back at Peter tauntingly.
Jemima screamed and clung to Scraggan’s thin wrist as he pushed her closer to the edge. She glanced down and cried out at the sight of the white froth as it hit the jagged rocks below.
“I think everyone should get a second chance, don’t you? Seeing as my men failed to do a proper job the first time round, I think I had better make certain the job is done right.” His voice was evil as he pushed Jemima toward the edge.
She struggled to find purchase with her feet on the slippery rocks. If Scraggan let her go, she would fall to her death. She lifted panicked eyes to Peter, silently pleading for help, only to freeze as his next words shattered her world.
“Do your worst, Scraggan,” Peter snarled, shooting Jemima a dispassionate look. It took every ounce of bravado he possessed to utter the words. Inside he was tied in knots at the sight of the woman he loved being held over a deathly drop, but there was nothing he could do. If Scraggan let go, Peter would never reach her in time to stop her falling to her death.
He knew it was a gamble, but Peter’s only option was to do the exact opposite of what Scraggan wanted, at least until Jemima was safe.
“She’s nothing to me,” Peter snorted, shaking out the wet folds of his great coat as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He used the movement to quickly cock his gun, wondering if he could get a clear enough shot to hit the man between the eyes. First, though, he had to wait until Jemima was in a less precarious position.
“She’s your bitch,” Scraggan accused, giving Jemima a shake and making her scream again as she slipped on the wet rock.
“She’s served her purpose,” Peter said. “You forgot one thing, though, Scraggan,” he went on, fighting hard to put amusement in his voice. “I work for the government. I couldn’t believe my luck when she came to me in Devon holding vital documents that detailed all of your activities. The Salty Susan, Anna Maria, Sara Jane.” He watched Scraggan’s eyes widen as Peter listed some of Scraggan’s most coveted prizes. “She carried the dates, times, your contacts, the spies. She had so much information there was no way you would evade trial and certain death. She showed me the papers and begged for my help. She was going to tell me more, only you went and spooked her.” He shook his head chidingly, knowing if he had any chance of getting Scraggan to let her go, he had to give the performance of his life.
“She got scared and ran. Of course I slept with her; after all she is passably pretty and didn’t have a protector, and I’m a red-blooded male. You would do the same, wouldn’t you? Of course, I knew the importance of the papers she held and had to get them back, so I went after her. It wasn’t her I was interested in at all. Just the bloody papers the stupid bitch refused to give me.”
He couldn’t bear to look at Jemima. There was too great a risk that he would give the game away if he acknowledged the silent tears streaming steadily down a face so stark with betrayal that he wanted to gather her into his arms and offer her his soul in exchange for her forgiveness for uttering such a cruel lie.
He could only hope to God that she gave him the chance to explain everything when this was over.
Jemima listened to Peter’s words, seeing the events of the past few months unfold before her with new eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid, so blind to the real motives behind his apparent interest in her.
But now she thought about it, things made a horrible kind of sense. She felt sick at her own stupidity and stared in horror at the man she loved to distraction as he spoke the words that broke her heart. Over the past few months she had wondered why someone like Peter would be interested in her. Now she knew.
Peter could sense Scraggan’s hesitation, but knew he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. There was a very real possibility that he would just let Jemima go anyway, so she would plunge to her death on the rocks below, but Peter could see no other choice. He couldn’t get a clear shot at Scraggan; Jemima was in the way.
Peter shifted a little, aware that Scraggan was studying him closely. “Think about it. I am wealthy and titled. Do you really think I would chase a woman, who was only a servant, halfway across the bloody country just to bed her? Ha! I could have any woman I wanted who is my equal. Married or not, with money of their own, far more beautiful than her,” and he waved a hand dismissively toward Jemima. “It wasn’t her I was after, but the papers she carried that the government needed.”
Peter sent a prayer heavenwards that he would receive forgiveness for causing her so much distress. Her gasp of pain wrenched at his heart, but there was little he could do.
He stamped his feet to regain some feeling in his chilled toes, ostensibly unconcerned by the fact that Jemima was hanging perilously close to death over the edge of a cliff.
“So, if she doesn’t mean anything to you, why did you try to save her in Derby?” Scraggan asked, squinting suspiciously at Peter.
“Because we knew she and her sister had more on you. We were right. Not only were they carrying papers on them, but more were in their house in a hidden cupboard.” He ignored Jemima’s gasp and continued, knowing Scraggan was hooked by the intent look on his face. “We had to persuade them to come back to Padstow and retrieve the papers, which are now with Hugo.”
“Hugo?”
Peter heaved a sigh of relief, and studied the suspicion still on Scraggan’s face with a flurry of satisfaction. He had no doubt that the smuggler hadn’t a clue who Hugo was and felt mollified that the man had been honest with them after all.
“A man who works for the War Office,” Peter replied, seeing no reason why he should lie. “Needless to say, now that we have the papers, I have promised to escort the ladies home, where they are now free to get on with their lives. You have bigger problems, though,” he declared flatly, when Scraggan appeared lost in thought, seemingly oblivious to Jemima’s weeping.
Determined not to give up, Peter continued. “Redcoats are sweeping through Padstow as we speak, arresting your men. It appears that the Salty Susan has decided to break anchor and make a run for it,” Peter nodded out to sea toward the looming shadow of the small cutter sailing at full mast down the estuary.
Scraggan cursed fluidly, his attention momentarily distracted.
It was all Peter needed.
Taking two huge steps forward, he grabbed a handful of Jemima’s cloak and wrenched her roughly away from the cliff, releasing her as soon as she was safe. He heard a heavy thump as she hit the ground with a startled cry, but was too busy seeking vengeance.
Peter briefly considered just shooting Scraggan, but Jemima’s weeping echoed in his ears, and he needed to slake his thirst for vengeance.
He didn’t wait for Scraggan to move away from the cliff edge and drew back his fist, landing it with stunning accuracy. All the pain, heartache, worry and fear that had dogged his every waking moment for the past year drove his fist home.
The loud crunch as Scraggan’s nose broke brought Peter little satisfaction, as he sought to extract his retribution.
From her position on the ground, Jemima watched as Peter and Scraggan traded blows. Although Peter was bigger and heavier, Scraggan was smaller and able to duck lower, avoiding many of the fists Peter rained down on him with fancy footwork.
She was unsure what to do or where to go for help, when she became aware that the fog had started to lift and she could see more of the coastal path and the surrounding area.
“Over here,” Harriett whispered, tugging on Jemima’s elbow.
Brushing tears out of her eyes, Jemima pushed to her feet and, through the haze, spotted Eliza, sitting on the ground next to Edward a short distance down the path. They had both clearly heard everything that had been discussed.
Edward’s eyes were burning with fury, Eliza’s full of gentle sympathy.
Jemima stumbled across the uneven surface and quickly began to remove their bindings. She would have to deal with Peter’s revel
ations later, but right now getting everyone off the cliff alive and in one piece was more important.
“You all go to the post masters office as instructed, and wait for us there. I’ll help Peter,” Edward said, giving the ladies a rough push onward.
“Go!” he ordered roughly when they made no attempt to follow orders and simply stared at the men still grappling on the cliff top.
Grunts, snorts and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh were the only sounds that could be heard above the roar of the surf as it snapped hungrily at the bottom of the cliff, waiting for its prey to arrive.
The ladies held hands and stood together, going nowhere until they knew that Scraggan had been overpowered.
“Are you all right?” Eliza whispered, studying the paleness of her sister’s cheeks with concern.
“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Jemima replied, offering the other ladies a brave smile that did little to reassure either of them. “Are you? What happened?” She asked Eliza quietly.
“Scraggan knocked Edward out with something, then tied him up.” She hastened to reassure Jemima when she gasped in horror. “I was just overpowered. He’s small,” she nodded toward Scraggan, “but strong.”
“He didn’t mean it, you know,” Eliza said after several moments of silence.
“Yes, he did,” Jemima argued. “I can’t believe I was so stupid as to believe that he came after me because he cared for me.”
“Give him a chance to explain,” Harriett suggested, sharing a glance with Eliza. Although she had known Peter for only a couple of hours, his affection for Jemima had been clear to see. She didn’t know much about the human heart, and romance, but she knew that if a man looked at her the same way that Peter looked at Jemima, she would believe it was love.
“You heard him. We all did. It all fits now,” Jemima sniffed. “He was after the information I carried.”