Chapter Twenty #2
“You will not have to wait forever. After all, you are his heir.” There was a whining-note to this response. It took a great deal of Robert’s willpower not to turn and access the man.
“Of course, I am. Still not befit a gentleman like me to always be playing second to a woman.” There was a quality of anger to his voice which made Robert wonder what had happened last night doing the landing of the gear, that would have caused Mr. Monaghan to seek Judith out.
Had she berated him? Had she not given him enough booty?
For a fleeting moment Robert told himself perhaps it was just as well the Fossey girls had slipped away.
“Just because it is a role my uncle plays for Judy—” A sharp cough here, issued from another man at the table, and Mr. Monaghan adjusted his voice, lowering the volume although he did not sound especially pleased at the interruption.
“Very well, if I must, Punch. Does that please you? It does not mean I should bow and scrape in the same manner.”
How had Robert missed such details previously?
Aye, he had not been out to this tavern in weeks, nor Robert told himself had the gangs conducted such a plunder in a long while.
The confidence of their successes must be the cause for Mr. Monaghan’s overconfidence.
The former could be blamed on Abigail, and himself for his increasing fixation on her.
The idea made a rogue grin spring to his face—in actual fact the latter according to Montacute could be blamed on Abigail too.
“She’s headed off up to Town, without making nice and saying her goodbyes.
” Monaghan made a tutting noise, as if Judith or Abigail Fossey should have run the idea past him, before they departed.
For a moment, Robert wondered if the women had left because of this ‘gentleman’ rather than because of his investigation.
“Always got a scheme, our Punch.” There was a note of pride in the man’s voice, and Robert was struck by the loyalty of the men to Judith Fossey.
She would have had to inspire that, and a fair amount of devotion too, in order to run a smuggling gang.
Or perhaps beneath her sisterly gaze there was an equally ruthless character.
One that was happily able to arrange blackmail and murder—the current course of actions for those involved in smuggling.
“Course, Bill here reckons she’s up there to sell.”
“No,” came the outraged remark from Monaghan, and it masked Robert’s own shock. What was the blasted woman selling? He needed that horse immediately. Fury and fear guided his steps into the courtyard and back to Forester, who gave him a grin.
“Ah, there you are sir, Jimmie just brought her up for you. Or the coach is just ten minutes out.”
“Excellent, I’ll take the horse.” Robert surveyed the nag, taking in the mount’s strong legs and saddle, before he neared the bridle and swung himself up and into the seat.
“Let me suggest changing at The Yeoman, it’s in Yeovil. The coaching service is the quickest in the country, or so they promise.”
Robert barely listened as he tore out of the yard, he made himself think only of his culprit and not her sister. With his spurs, he encouraged the horse to a canter, keen to close the distance between him and the escaping Fosseys.
*
To Robert’s immense frustration, when he arrived in Town, two days later, it was to find that the baron was away in Brighton.
It was not clear from Commodore Dulisse, who was a fussy and short-sighted man, but the one the baron had left in charge, quite what Montacute wanted done about Lyme, the Pinhayers or what Robert’s next steps should be.
‘He’s away managing that dratted cousin of his,’ was all Commodore Dulisse would say.
From his own personal inquiries, he had discovered an address of where the Fosseys were staying.
It was a reasonably smart townhouse two miles south of Fladong’s Hotel.
The trouble was that the older Miss Fossey might be selling secrets.
Was she up in Town to see her handler who might further undermine the empire?
Determined to continue investigating, Robert set about trailing after Miss Fossey, whilst telling himself not to dwell on Abigail’s whereabouts.
It was hard as he followed Judith Fossey down the streets and alleyways, with the occasional tilt of her head, or movement of Judith’s hands, it recalled Abigail far too well.
When Judith cut into Marylebone, Robert was confused that she could be so bold, and the momentary lapse in his judgement caused him to pause, and it was then that Miss Fossey turned and saw him.
She recognized him, but rather than realize what she was caught, she cocked an eyebrow at him, and crossed the street meaning to join him.
“Mr. O’Sullivan, or should I say Captain Davenport?” She nodded a touch ironically. “Are you following in an effort to inquire after my sister?”
Guilt and anger swirled through him in equal measure, and if she were a man he’d take a fierce delight in dragging her back to the Whitehall and placing her under arrest. But as she stared at him, Robert knew that if he ever hoped to win Abigail back, he could hardly arrange to have her sister thrown in jail.
Or transported. Yet now it was before him as a possibility it struck him differently—was he really prepared to let a criminal go because he loved one of her family members?
“Well, Captain, are you going to stand there gawping at me all day or get to your point?” Her tone was sharp and biting, and he could tell whilst he might have his reservations about hurting her, Miss Fossey would have no such second thoughts over his welfare.
“I am not the only one who goes by many names, am I, Punch?”
For a moment, just a fleeting intake of breath, Miss Fossey looked surprised that he had rumbled her. But then her lips narrowed, and she fixed him with a fierce stare. “You worked it out.”
“You should have hired better men.”
She grimaced and guessed immediately, “Monaghan?”
“Between that man’s greed and his rashness, I’m surprised I wasn’t quicker off the mark.”
“It seems I have my sister to thank for that. Abigail kept you distracted.” There was a notable amount of bitterness in her words. Robert knew that Miss Fossey had neither arranged nor been pleased by their dalliance.
“Where is she?” Robert doubted he could keep the desperation out of his voice, but he hoped it was not too obvious. The need to see Abigail had mounted day after day, until it seemed to be consuming him.
“I am hardly likely to let you near her again, given all she has told me, and if I were a man I would dearly love to challenge you to a duel.”
“I thought Punch could give as good as she got.”
Pivoting on her heel, Miss Fossey strode away from him down the busy London street, leaving Robert to chase after her. His hand shot out and grabbed her elbow, slowing her down next to a window display of rather tawdry-looking hats.
“I wouldn’t want to make a scene, but I would be well within my rights to arrest you. Treason, and selling state secrets would see you hang.”
Miss Fossey bit her bottom lip, and he saw her hand drift unconsciously toward the reticule she carried between gloved fingers.
Quick as a whippet, he snatched it from her fingers.
Robert stared at her, wondering if she would have simply threatened him, or done worse. Slowly, carefully he handed her reticule back to her.
“I don’t suppose it would matter to you, that it is only brandy I take in. I’ve never sold a state secret in my life, and I can vouch none of Pinhayers have either.”
“It does not matter in the slightest to me. Smuggling all goes to support the enemy.”
“An enemy my sister would dearly like to engage philosophical questions with.”
Abigail had wanted to see Paris, unaware or uninterested in the idea of Napoleone, her scientific mind focused on far more than the Empire building.
To Abigail, such things were petty squabbles compared to the amazing discoveries like her sea creature or the papers her French scholars were writing.
He could not help but smile at Abigail’s sheer single mindedness.
He had never had he had met a person, like his Abigail, who would dare everything for such a specific chance at glory.
“Abigail does not deserve to be tainted by your terrible associations.”
Something must have shown in his face, because Miss Fossey’s eyes widened, shock mingling over her features. “You love her.”
Again, Miss Fossey had posed a statement rather than a question and Robert would have liked to ignore her. His professionalism told him he had to lie, but instead the words slipped out, “I do.”
“Then you are in a bind, Captain. I have my doubts that my sister would wed you now. She certainly has cursed your name until I thought she might turn blue,” Miss Judith said this was a degree of satisfaction that annoyed Robert immensely, “but I feel I should warn you. She would never accept that you were guilty of putting every remaining member of her family under the charge of treason.”
“I feared that might be the case.”
“As I said, you are in a fix…” Miss Judith sighed.
“And you have no inclination to help me.”
“I don’t like you.”
“A sentiment I vehemently share.”
With a shake of her head, more directed it seemed against herself than against him, Miss Judith drew out a piece of paper and held before him a business card.
“It seems you have a choice before you, Captain. Either you can arrest me or you can go find my sister. I know she will be at this address for the rest of the day.”