Free Devil's Prize by Jane Jackson Page A

convince himself he had handled it well. But all he kept seeing was Devlin’s face, bleak as granite, ordering him to Trevanion’s house.
    The door opened and his housekeeper appeared.
    ‘What?’ he snarled. ‘Go away.’
    She ignored him. ‘Someone to see you. Says it’s important.’
    ‘I’m not in the mood.’ When she still didn’t move Thomas blinked at her. ‘Well? Who is it?’
    ‘Willie Grose.’ She sniffed, letting him know her opinion of the company he kept.
    ‘That’s enough from you.’ He glared at her. ‘This is my house now and I’ll entertain whoever I like. Anyway it’s business. Go on.’ He waved her away. ‘Do what you’re paid for and fetch him in.’
    ‘Paid is it?’ She sniffed again. ‘When am I going to see some money then?’
    ‘I haven’t got time for you now. I’m busy.’
    ‘Is that what you call it?’ she muttered under her breath as she waddled out.
    A few moments later Willie sidled round the door and flinched when it slammed behind him.
    ‘What’s up wi’ she?’ When Thomas didn’t answer, Willie stood where he was and rubbed his hands uncertain what to do next. ‘Gone cold again,’ he remarked.
    ‘Have they found him?’ Thomas asked suddenly.
    Willie’s shoulders drooped and he shook his head. ‘Nah. Could be days, could be weeks. Depends on the currents.’
    Thomas grunted. ‘So what do you want?’
    Willie brightened. ‘A drop o’ the old cousin jack would go down a treat. Bleddy freezing out there ’tis.’
    ‘No, you fool. What are you doing here? Why have you come?’
    ‘Thought you’d want to hear the news, didn’t I?’
    ‘What news?’
    ‘About Harry Carlyon.’
     Thomas swivelled round to stare at him. ‘What about him?’
    Willie gestured at the decanter. ‘Go on, jest a drop. ’Tis bitter out.’
    ‘There’s a glass in the cabinet. Mind you don’t drop it. What about Harry?’
    Pouring a generous measure Willie took a gulp. ‘Oh yes,’ he smacked his lips. ‘Bit of all right, that is. He been wrecked.’
    Thomas jerked upright, spilling brandy onto his breeches and filling the air with sharp fumes. ‘Wrecked? I don’t believe it. Not Harry Carlyon. You’ve got it wrong.’ He refused to believe it. Sobered by shock he could feel the liquor churning uneasily in his stomach.
    Willie nodded emphatically. ‘’Tis true as I’m stood ’ere. Riding Officer was waiting for ’n, dragoons and all, up off Coverack. Word is that Harry guessed something wasn’t right. Either there wasn’t no signal, or someone gived ’n the wrong one. But he couldn’t stand out to sea again.’
    ‘Why not, for God’s sake?’
    ‘Another storm blowing up wasn’t there? So he tried to sail in under the cliffs where they couldn’t see  ’n. Might have been all right if he’d still had his old lugger. But that new cutter of his got a deep keel. I reck’n in the panic he forgot what he was sailing. Struck the rocks and ripped the bottom out of her. Went down with all hands she did, and most of the cargo. Some of it was saved. But Customs got it locked away.’
    Thomas was afraid he might vomit. Such detail meant there could be no doubt, and no hope of mistaken identity.
    ‘Here,’ Willie’s face puckered. ‘All right, are you? Gone white as a sheet you ‘ave.’
    Thomas barely heard him. Far from making his fortune he’d just lost every penny of his investment. The cargo Devlin had brought back last week was still underwater. God alone knew when it would be raised. Even when it was distributed it would not make anything like the sum he needed to pay Hedley. Colonel Trevanion was expecting his money and if he didn’t get it he would demand the emerald’s return. Thomas had neither cash nor jewel. What was he to do? Terror engulfed him. Think.
    Trembling violently he tossed back the cognac, shuddered, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. He poured more, the lip of the decanter rattling against the glass as he fought