CHAPTER 25 #2
“No, sir!” exclaimed Hawk. “I asked Smoke, who does odd jobs around the collier’s foundry, to keep a watch on him when I left to alert Mr. Sheffield and Lady Cordelia of our discovery.
He said two men crept up on Mr. Tyler and dragged him away to the ship.
It then cast off its mooring lines and raised its topsails to scud away to the river. ”
So the dastards knew their perfidy had been discovered.
That would make them even more dangerous.
Tyler . . . Her heart raced as her blood momentarily turned to ice. Tyler couldn’t hope for mercy. His captors had none.
“Even under a full press of sails, the ship can’t reach the sea when the tide is against it,” said Daggett decisively. “They’re hiding somewhere upriver.”
His boots squelched in the soft mud as he shifted his stance. “But with all the little inlets and coves—not to speak of the smuggling rings and their well-hidden dens of iniquity—there isn’t a chance in hell that we can find them in seven hours.”
More like six and a half, thought Charlotte.
“Bloody hell and damnation.” To her surprise, the American’s steely self-control exploded in a burst of emotion as he hit one of the timbers with a clenched fist. “Two years I’ve been after Lyman, determined to see that he pays for the evil he’s done to so many lives . . .”
This was more than a government assignment to him, guessed Charlotte. It was intensely personal. She found herself liking him better for it.
“And yet once again, the devil-cursed scoundrel is going to slip away unscathed.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” responded Wrexford, after a moment of grim silence. “You would be right—save for the fact that we have our band of filthy little wharf rats. Distasteful as you may find them, they will soon have you eating your disparaging comments.”
“I will do so happily,” said Daggett. “But how—”
“Never mind that now. We need to return to Nereid and Neptune’s office as quickly as possible.”
The earl crouched down so he was on eye level with Hawk. “I need you to gather up as many of your friends as you can in the next quarter hour and bring them to the cellar beneath the office. Use the fishmonger’s alleyway.”
“Oiy, sir!” Wrexford’s small shove set him into motion, and in the next instant, the boy disappeared into the maze of the wharves.
“Stealth is no longer a priority,” announced the earl. “We can take the quickest route back to our destination.”
In short order, they were climbing up the steps of the shipping company run by their friends.
“Good day”—Octavia Howe hesitated for just a fraction—“milord.” To her credit, she made no comment on Wrexford’s shabby clothes, but merely shifted the pile of folders in her arms and pointed to the main meeting room. “If you’re looking for—”
The closed door flew open and Raven peered out. “Wrexford! On our way back, Strings told us the ship has left the tidal basin and headed upstream. Is it true?”
“Aye,” answered the earl, “and we’ve discovered some even more disturbing news.” Seeing Sheffield and Lady Cordelia had come to stand behind the boy, he added, “Let us join you inside and I shall explain.”
Charlotte hesitated. Wrexford entered the room without a glance her way, a tacit sign that he was leaving the decision up to her. Heaving an inward sigh, she turned away and slipped down the back stairs.
Ooooff. The stench of piss and rotting fish was truly foul. “If I wish to live the life of a lady, perfumed in privilege,” she muttered to herself, “the choice is mine.”
She rooted around in the darkness and found a lantern.
A quick strike of the flint and steel she carried in her urchin-coat pocket lit an oily flame.
After checking that the door to the alleyway was unbarred—opening it wouldn’t improve the air, as outside was even more odiferous—she sat down on a cask of nails to wait for Hawk and his friends.
The plan to use the urchins was an excellent one. They would act like stones falling on still water, spreading quick-moving ripples throughout the docklands.
A muted jingle of metal drew her gaze to the stairs. Raven hurried down the last few treads and came to join her.
“Wrexford has given me permission to help spread the word,” he said, perching himself on the cask next to hers. “I’ll take the south side of the river. Strings is bringing a few of his friends to join me.”
It was a race against time, and the clock wasn’t ticking in their favor. But he knew that. They all did.
The clink of metal on metal sounded again as Raven eased a leather pouch out of his pocket.
“His Lordship borrowed all the guineas that Mr. Sheffield and Lady Cordelia had in their safe. Hawk and I are to hand one out to each of our friends, for them to show as proof that the promise of a fifty-guinea reward to whoever discovers the location of the ship is no faradiddle.”
The boy undid the strings, allowing a tiny spark of fire-kissed gold to glimmer in the gloom. “He says that unless Satan has opened up a great hole in the Earth, allowing the ship to take refuge in the deepest pit of hell, we’ll find it in time.”
Charlotte didn’t disagree. Fifty guineas was an unimaginable fortune to those who lived around the river. Raven’s voice, however, held a note of raw uncertainty.
“Wrexford is right,” she said. “They haven’t a prayer of eluding us.”
He nodded. But by the way he was winding the strings tightly around his thumb, she could tell that something else was troubling him. Reaching out, she gently eased off the loops and twined her fingers with his.
The boy held himself rigid for a moment, and then, in a very un-Raven-like gesture, inched closer and leaned his head against her shoulder.
“Wrexford is angry with Tyler. He says that Tyler was a damn fool for being so reckless.”
“He’s not angry, sweeting. He’s frightened.” She drew him into a hug and didn’t let go. “We all are. Tyler has become very dear to us.”
A tremor—a silent sob?—spasmed through his bony body.
Love. What a change it had wrought in all of them.
When she and the boys had first met, the struggle for survival had been the primary force in their lives. She certainly hadn’t been looking for love. She knew its dangers—and yet, it had happened, anyway. That achingly beautiful complexity that took hold of one’s heart and wouldn’t let go.
Charlotte tightened her hold on Raven. Not for anything would she give up the wondrous joys of love.
But it came with a fearful symmetry. That it brought such happiness also meant it could bring terrible pain.
The boys had come to think of Wrexford and Tyler as family .
. . along with Alison, McClellan, and now Hartley. It made them vulnerable . . .
But it also makes all of us strong.
“Y-You think we will find Mr. Tyler . . . alive?” asked Raven in a small voice.
“I do, my love,” she answered without a qualm. “Wrexford would beat the Grim Reaper to a pulp if he dared to swing his scythe at any of us.”
That drew a soft laugh. “Mr. Sheffield says even Lucifer himself would run like the devil when Wrexford is in a temper.”
“A very wise move. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay.”
The rattle of the side door announced that Hawk and the urchins had arrived. Raven wriggled free and swiped his sleeve across his eyes.
“Quite right,” he said, blinking away the last of his uncertainties. “The miscreants be damned. We shall find the ship, and then they shall suffer the consequences of their evil.”
The next few minutes passed in a helter-pelter of activity. A sharp whistle summoned Wrexford, who gave the motley band of ragamuffins strict orders on how to conduct the search, and what risks to avoid, before passing out the coins.
“Now off you go,” he finished.
Charlotte sighed as they scrambled out the door, led by Raven and Hawk.
“Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war,” murmured Daggett, who, along with Sheffield, had accompanied the earl down to the cellar.
“I’m surprised you read Shakespeare,” quipped Sheffield. “That is Shakespeare, isn’t it?”
“I read a great many things,” answered the American. “Between the occasional moments of storms and battles, a naval captain has endless hours for other pursuits.”
All of which, guessed Charlotte, he used for sharpening both his intellect and his physical skills. She turned away from the lamplight. No wonder that from the very first, he had struck her as dangerous.
“Wrexford!” called Cordelia from the top of the stairs. “I have found the nautical charts you requested.”
“I think we should have a look at the likely hiding places upriver,” he said. “Kit, you’re familiar with the West India docklands and may know of some hidden nooks among its many docks where a ship would be shielded from prying eyes.”
“There are one or two places . . .” Deep in conversation, the two of them headed up together.
Daggett turned to follow, but after a step or two, he stopped.
The back of her neck began to prickle. If he hadn’t been between her and the side door, Charlotte would have bolted for the alleyway. Instead, she slipped deeper into the shadows.
He started to move again, his boots scraping lightly over the stone flaggings. She held her breath, waiting—nay, praying—for the sound of his tread on the stairs.
The gloom suddenly seemed to come alive with a crackling tension. With the rush of her pulsing blood filling her ears, Charlotte felt rather than heard him come closer.
“You make a very fetching urchin, Lady Charlotte,” whispered Daggett.
“An astute observation, sir.” She turned to face him. “And one, I trust, that you will keep to yourself.”
“Your secret is safe with me. We Americans may abhor the idea of an aristocracy, but I do consider myself a gentleman when it comes to the personal life of a lady,” he answered. “Though it does raise a number of intriguing questions.”
“None of which I intend to answer.”
A flutter of the lamp’s flame caught the twitch of his lips. “A lady’s prerogative.”
“Speaking of questions, how did you know?”
Daggett hesitated, as if wondering whether to play tit for tat, and then shrugged. “Your eyes are the exact shade of blue as those of my late sister.”
He said it in an offhand way, but it didn’t fool her. Charlotte now was sure that this mission was a very personal one for him.
“Who, I take it, suffered at the hands of Reginald Lyman.”
His jaw tightened. “You have an unnerving ability to read people, Lady Charlotte. I imagine that’s a trait that might get you into trouble.”
“Indeed,” replied Charlotte. “More times than I can count.”
His expression turned oddly pensive. “I thought ladies weren’t supposed to find trouble alluring.”
“It’s not a matter of allure, sir. It’s a matter of principle. Men aren’t the only ones who believe in the concepts of right and wrong, and the notion that nobody is above justice.”
“Daggett!” called Wrexford, his voice sharp with worry. In the next instant, Charlotte heard him start down the stairs. It sounded like he was taking them two at a time.
“We’re over here,” she called, not bothering to disguise her voice as he came into view. “As you warned, the captain has the eye of an eagle.”
The earl stopped short. “An unfortunate analogy, as eagles are known as deadly birds of prey.”
“I’ve assured Lady Charlotte that she has nothing to fear from me,” replied Daggett. “Even if I were on the hunt, I have a feeling she would be a match for any predator.”
“It seems that Captain Daggett has his own secret concerning his pursuit of Lyman,” explained Charlotte. “His mission is a personal one, as well as an official assignment from his government.”
She fixed the American with a challenging stare.
His eyes no longer seemed quite as frightening.
“I’m not asking for prurient reasons. However, I think it’s imperative that Wrexford and I know exactly what Lyman did to hurt your sister.
In the heat of battle—if it comes down to that with our enemies—we must be aware of your weaknesses and how you might react. Our lives may depend on each other.”
“It sounds as if you have experience under fire, milady,” he responded.
“I served under Wellesley—now Lord Wellington—on Peninsula,” interjected the earl, “and am no stranger to the battlefield. If you’re questioning my bride-to-be’s steadiness in the face of danger, I assure you that she has steelier nerves than most soldiers.”
“I’m beginning to understand that,” said Daggett.
It seemed to Charlotte that a ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“Very well, I’ll trust the two of you with my personal reason for pursuing Lyman, even though it is a very painful one that does me no credit.
I should have . . .” He shifted. “I should have prevented it.”
“You have our promise that we won’t share it with others,” said Wrexford. “And we don’t give our word lightly.”
The American seemed to retreat into some deep place within himself. Charlotte recognized the shuttered look in his eyes. She had seen it reflected in her own gaze after the death of her husband—a bleak sadness, shadowed by guilt.
Daggett suddenly appeared human, and she liked him better for being made of flesh and blood, rather than ice and iron.
“My sister and her husband ran a harborside tavern in New York. I had picked up rumors of Lyman’s ill doings and so I asked them to keep a watch on him, and pass on to me any information they might overhear. I did warn them to be discreet, but I should have emphasized that.”
A costermonger’s barrow clattered by in the alleyway, the shrill cry for salted eel rising above the squeaky wheel.
“They did learn certain things, and duly dispatched a letter to me.” Daggett looked to Charlotte.
“However, like you, my sister and her husband possessed a very strong sense of Right and Wrong, and informed me that in order to prevent one of Lyman’s rivals from being murdered, they felt beholden to report it to the local authorities.
The next morning, they lay dead, along with the targeted man. All three had had their throats cut.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Charlotte. “Trite words, I know, but no less heartfelt.”
The American acknowledged them with a gruff nod.
“I take it the authorities had been bribed?” asked Wrexford.
“I assume so,” said Daggett. “Lyman didn’t know of my relationship to the murdered couple, so my investigation wasn’t compromised. However, he became more careful, and it took me a while to find a way to get close to him.”
“By convincing him that you were like him—a ruthless, unprincipled reptile whose cunning and naval connections would make you a perfect partner in crime in the slavery venture.”
A grunt of surprise. “H-How do you know—”
“You’re not the only one with connections within the nautical world of New York,” answered the earl. “But never mind that now. Let us focus on stopping von Stockhausen and Lyman—once and for all.”