7. The Hidden Cargo #2
Night fell over London like a velvet curtain, bringing with it the familiar fog that turned the Thames into a mysterious river of shadows and secrets. The docks, so busy during the day, became a different world after dark—a place where only watchmen and those with questionable business ventured.
A cloaked figure emerged from the mist, moving purposefully toward the northwest corner of the wharf. Mr. Moore’s normally pristine appearance was hidden beneath a dark wool cloak, his gentleman’s cane replaced by the need for stealth and discretion.
“Vikram?” he called softly, scanning the area.
“Oi! Who goes there?” A dock watchman’s voice cut through the fog, his lantern bobbing like a firefly in the distance.
Mr. Moore pressed himself into the shadows between two massive cargo containers, waiting as the watchman’s footsteps and light passed by. When silence returned, he continued his search, finally spotting movement near a stack of empty crates.
“It’s Jason. Come out.”
Vikram emerged from his hiding place, trembling with cold despite the relatively mild night. The boy’s thin frame was wracked with shivers, his inadequate clothing no match for London’s damp chill.
“Follow me. Stay close,” Mr. Moore instructed, placing a steadying hand on Vikram’s thin shoulder.
They had barely taken a dozen steps when the clatter of hooves and wheels echoed through the fog. A carriage appeared at the far end of the wharf, its lanterns blazing through the mist like accusatory eyes.
Mr. Moore froze, his grip tightening on Vikram’s shoulder as he pulled the boy back into the shadows. The carriage stopped, and a figure emerged—Kate Sullivan, her determination evident even in silhouette as she looked around with the systematic attention of a person conducting a search.
“Damn,” Mr. Moore breathed, the profanity barely audible.
Kate spoke briefly to her driver, then began walking the perimeter of the docks with steady steps. She was clearly searching for something—or someone.
“We need to wait,” Mr. Moore whispered to Vikram, pulling him deeper into the darkness between cargo containers.
“Who she?” Vikram asked, his broken English low and frightened.
“Someone very observant.”
They watched as Kate continued her systematic search of the area, her movements suggesting she had a specific purpose rather than mere curiosity about the late-night activities of the docks.
“New plan,” Mr. Moore said quietly, removing his cloak and wrapping it around Vikram’s slight form. “Stay perfectly still. Count to one hundred after I leave. Then go that way.” He pointed toward a street visible through the fog. “To the house with the red door. Wait there.”
“You leave me?” Fear crept into Vikram’s voice.
“To create a distraction.”
Kate moved cautiously along the mist-draped docks, the echo of her footsteps swallowed by the rolling fog.
Lantern light from the warehouses barely reached this far, turning every shape into a shadow and every sound into a possible threat.
She scanned the gloom ahead, searching for the faint movement she thought she’d seen moments ago, someone where no one should be.
A chill prickled the back of her neck when, out of the whitened murk, a figure stepped directly into her path.
She stopped short, pulse quickening.
“Mr. Moore!” Kate exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest.
Mr. Moore deliberately stepped into her path, jumping back himself as if he had just spotted her at that very instant.
“Miss Sullivan! What an unexpected pleasure,” he replied with just the right note of surprised delight.
“What are you doing here? These docks are dangerous at night.”
“I could express identical concern for your presence.”
Kate’s chin lifted slightly. “I own these docks. You still haven’t explained yours.”
Mr. Moore stepped closer, subtly positioning himself to block her view of the area where Vikram was hidden. The fog swirled around them, creating an intimate cocoon of mist and shadows.
“Perhaps I hoped to encounter you,” he said, his voice dropping to a more intimate register.
The words struck a nerve—something cold and hot all at once—sending a rush through Kate’s spine. “At the docks? At night?”
“I must say I find conventional courtship rather… limiting.”
Behind them, barely visible through the gaps in cargo containers, Vikram’s cloaked figure slipped away toward the street—a shadow melting into deeper darkness.
“You expect me to believe you came here at this hour to court me?” Kate’s voice carried disbelief, but also a heated note of excitement that she couldn’t quite suppress. Damn!
“And yet here you are,” Mr. Moore observed.
Kate’s eyes flicked over his face, the shadows and fog distorting every line. She swallowed hard, teeth pressing together, a taut awareness coiling in her chest.
“Is it so difficult to imagine that I might seek you out?” Mr. Moore continued, his voice low and persuasive. “That I might find conventional drawing rooms insufficient for conversations with an unconventional woman?”
He stepped even closer, the space between them shrinking to mere inches. Kate instinctively took a step back, finding herself trapped between the dock railing and Mr. Moore’s advancing presence. The Thames churned darkly below, its black waters reflecting nothing.
“You are the strangest man I’ve ever encountered, Mr. Moore,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of water against the dock pilings.
Mr. Moore leaned in, closing the remaining space between them until she could smell the bergamot and sandalwood of his cologne, and also feel the warmth radiating from his body in the chill night air.
“I find your compliments highly… stimulating,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips with real intent.
Kate held her breath at once, her lips parting slightly against her own will. Mr. Moore’s own lips parted too, as if considering…
Kate only waited, frozen in place. Because at this point, there was nothing else she could—or wanted—to do. Every single one of her thoughts scattered away as if by magic, and she was only able to focus on Mr. Moore’s mouth being so close to hers.
She could have sworn he was about to kiss her, right there and then, when he simply pulled back, as if not kissing her didn’t require any effort at all, creating space again between them with the sudden professionalism of a man remembering his place.
Kate exhaled then, not without regretting…. What was she regretting exactly?
He offered his arm with perfect courteous decorum, as though the charged moment had never occurred.
“May I escort you back to your carriage? And perhaps explain my unusual approach to courtship along the way?”
Kate’s heartbeats slowly returned to normal, though her eyes remained wide, searching his face for some explanation of what had just passed between them. She hesitated, her gloved fingers hovering above his offered arm as if it might burn her.
After what seemed an eternity, she took it—her grip firmer than strictly necessary, as if steadying herself against more than just the uneven dock planking.
As they walked away, their figures gradually fading into the mist, Mr. Moore allowed himself one quick glance back toward the street where Vikram had disappeared.
Satisfied to see nothing but fog and shadows, he turned his attention to the complicated woman on his arm and the even more complicated situation he had created.
When they reached the waiting carriage, Kate moved to step up, but paused as Mr. Moore took her gloved hand in his. With the old-fashioned courtesy expected of a gentleman, he bowed slightly and brought her fingers to his lips.
The gesture was proper—almost.
But his lips lingered just a breath too long, the warmth of them pressed gently into the kid leather.
Kate’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse skittering as the contact broke something still and hidden within her.
She withdrew her hand slowly, almost reluctantly, but didn’t move toward the carriage.
“Mr. Moore,” she said, her voice steady even after everything that had just passed between them. “I’m not naive enough to believe you came to these docks to court me.”
His expression remained the same. Or better, he seemed to be enjoying Kate’s challenging words. Kate’s eyes narrowed.
“Whatever you’re hiding,” she continued, holding his gaze, “I will find out. Sooner rather than later.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile that seemed genuinely amused.
“I would expect nothing less from you, Miss Sullivan. In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”
“Therefore you’re admitting to have something to hide.”
“No,” he said, his smile widening slightly. “But even if I deny it that won’t keep you from investigating further.” His smile showed his teeth now, and again Kate felt drawn to the way his features softened every time he smiled like this. “I do admit one thing, Miss Sullivan…”
“What is it, Mr. Moore?”
He took his time to consider his next words, clearly savoring the moment too much.
Kate studied him for as long as it took him to form his thoughts, trying to read what lay beneath that steady composure. She was also trying, with considerable effort, not to let her own mouth curve into a matching gesture.
“I’m extremely enjoying your company. I must say you…
” he paused, his gaze traveling over her face with an intensity that made her skin warm all over again.
“You challenge me in ways I didn’t know I craved.
Most people accept what I present at face value.
You question everything. You see things others miss. It’s… intoxicating.”
“That makes you either very foolish or very confident, Mr. Moore.”
“Perhaps both,” he admitted. “But be honest as well, Miss Sullivan. You find me as fascinating as I find you. Don’t you?”
Kate’s jaw tightened. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, even if it was true.