Hezekiah was fascinated to meet this tall blond man, so cruelly pushed aside when Kerensa was forced to marry his friend. If Kerensa was in trouble and needed a pair of comforting arms round her, with Oliver acting so coldly it followed she would turn to Clem Trenchard. Hezekiah wanted Kerensa himself. He had no scruples about making love to a friend’s wife, even if it meant losing that friend or, better still, killing him in a duel, but up until now he had not tried to win Kerensa. There were two strong reasons: Kerensa would tell Oliver, and Oliver was the only man he was afraid of. Now there was some hope. He would never refuse to help Kerensa, but if he could help her where Clem Trenchard could not, and if Oliver prolonged the cold treatment, then perhaps…

‘Well,’ he said slowly in his melodic voice, ‘you had better tell me what ails the dear lady.’

‘A sailor, the disgusting swine who is supposed to be thereal father of Kane, has turned up in Marazion again. He’s demanding money to stay away from the boy and Lady Pengarron fears that if His Lordship was told he would become so enraged he’d kill the sailor and pay for it with his own life on the gallows. She doesn’t want him to know, you understand.’

‘I understand perfectly, Trenchard. I agree with Her Ladyship. It would be better if that particular piece of human flotsam remained at sea permanently. Do you understand me?’

Clem fancied the ship moved and spread his feet for balance. ‘I believe I do, Cap’n Solomon,’ he answered, narrowing his eyes. ‘It would be too bad for Her Ladyship to be bothered by that scum ever again.’

‘Then it is as good as done. Have you any idea where this… problem might be found at this moment?’

‘Aye, as a matter of fact I do. I scouted round the town after I saw Her Ladyship safely on her way home. He can be found fully legless in the gin shop next to the watchmaker’s.’

Hezekiah’s white hair gleamed in the light of a lantern lit to offset the afternoon’s gloom. He patted a few strands above his temple and the scent of cologne grew unbearably stronger, threatening to cut off Clem’s air supply. Clem could hardly wait to leave, the cabin seemed no bigger than an outdoor closet. He found it claustrophobic and preferred the smells of dung and sweating bodies to the unnatural aromas wafting up his nostrils courtesy of the sea captain.

‘I shall attend to it, Trenchard,’ Hezekiah said, with a twisted smile that chilled the marrow of Clem’s bones. ‘Lady Pengarron can be told I will be taking him on board my ship to answer a charge of violence made against him in a foreign port – the murder of another British sailor, for instance.’