21. The Governor’s Mansion
THE GOVERNOR’S MANSION
Aside from the crew’s inaugural robbery—where they’d broken into the house on a whim and escaped by sheer luck—they had never been so unprepared.
They were determined to make it work in their favor.
Six years into this tradition, the guards were wise enough to look out for the summer robbers. Their expectations were piqued for a systematic, covert invasion of the governor’s house—not a laundress badly flirting her way past the guards with a cart full of bumbling thieves.
Shortly after sunset, Cecily approached the governor’s mansion with a mule Maria had procured from God-knew-where. It pulled the laundry cart, where the pirates lay concealed beneath a pile of sheets they’d “borrowed” from the inn.
The women had outfitted Cecily in one of Fay’s low-cut shirts, the fabric cinched at her waist above her flowing blue skirt, and they’d braided half her hair, tucking the uneven pieces into her usual crown while leaving the back to brush the tops of her shoulder blades.
Fay had said she looked seductive while Maria declared, “You carry yourself like a virgin,” which made Hester cackle.
Cecily didn’t care much how others looked at her, but she flushed at the thought of seeing Jack, who’d never seen her dressed in such a way and would undoubtedly like it.
She resisted the urge to pull the top of her shirt higher as she walked.
Instead, she rested her hand on the mule’s neck and whispered gentle, encouraging words to the creature to keep herself steady.
If the guards were any good and adhered to protocol, they’d be put off by Cecily’s terrible flirting, catch the pirates, and bring them all to the most terrifying officer the island had ever seen.
Once Officer Marín dismissed the guards back to their posts, the pirates would pillage then waltz out an hour later, leaving the guards clueless that anything had occurred beyond a scolding and mild torture at the hands of their superior.
She prayed it would work. The others had been sure to remind her that if it didn’t, it was wholly, entirely, inarguably her fault.
The house rose before her, stunning with its stucco walls and tall, imposing doors guarded by bored soldiers. Wrought-iron rails bordered balconies strewn with leafy plants and shrouded by canvas canopies that hung along the orange-tiled roof.
Cecily tried not to look too impressed as she followed the path toward the servants’ entrance where the guard at the door made no effort to hide the way he dragged his eyes over her.
She smiled coyly.
“What’s your business?” he asked without taking his eyes off all her neckline didn’t manage to conceal.
“Laundry,” she said. She left the mule and came to stand in front of him, looking up through her eyelashes.
She wasn’t great at it—her flirting was better suited to a more violent kind of affection—but the guard grinned anyway, revealing two rows of crooked teeth.
Some of her hair had fallen over her shoulder, and she brushed it back, drawing his eyes to the pale column of her neck. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Cosme,” he answered dazedly.
“Are you going to let me in, Cosme?” she asked, her voice so light and girlish that she knew she must be coming on too strong, but unsure of how to fix it. “The sooner I get in, the sooner I can finish and have some time to myself.”
She stifled the urge to cringe, but from the way the his eyes glazed over, the effect was better than she’d intended—too much so. Sweat beaded along her brow as he leaned against the door and said, “Night is falling. Perhaps you can be leisurely.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. She’d thought the guards would be better than this, especially with Marín on duty tonight.
“Wouldn’t that be fun,” she said, a little too woodenly. “Perhaps you can help me.”
Cosme shifted, the edges of his mouth lifting into what he probably assumed was seductive smile. “I think I could spare a few minutes.”
Cecily swallowed. From the pile of sheets behind her, she could have sworn she heard Maria’s disappointed sigh.
She didn’t know where to go from here. She wished she had any of her knives as it seemed the next best way to raise suspicion, but Jack had them waiting for her inside.
She trailed her gaze down the man’s face and throat, looking for the best place to throw her fist and get them detained by way of an all-out brawl.
Killian would be thrilled.
Footsteps sounded from the right as a different guard passed. Mercifully, he paused. She could feel his gaze on her back until, finally, he asked, “What’s she here for?”
Cecily looked over her shoulder, hoping her eyes were sparkling with mischief or violence—either would serve at this point. “Laundry,” she sighed.
The new guard looked at the cart. “What’s in there?”
She grinned and pretended she was Hester. “Bedding.”
Cosme cleared his throat. The second guard frowned at his distracted companion and said, “There’s been no one in this house for two days. And laundresses always come in the morning.”
Cecily pouted. “I should’ve been here yesterday, but I got distracted and now I’m terribly behind. If my mistress discovers I’ve been fooling around with soldiers again—”
A well-timed sneeze exploded from beneath the sheets—likely Frederick’s doing, as it sounded like a bomb. The cart jolted with the force of it, and the mule startled.
The second guard stiffened. Cecily’s features moved into innocence even as flutters of laughter threatened to bubble up from her middle. The crew, it seemed, were getting tired of waiting.
“I suppose that was the mule?” the guard asked her, eyes narrowed.
“He has hay fever,” Cecily muttered weakly, fighting to keep the smile from her face.
The guard gave her a withering look and tore back the sheets to reveal the six bodies piled beneath it. A whistle was pinched between the guard’s lips and shrilling before the cover could settle to the ground.
Soldiers came running from every direction, their boots pounding over the paths curling around the home. Cecily gasped as Cosme grabbed her around the middle, snatching her wrists and restraining her as he lightly patted down her sides and legs, checking for weapons.
Even without them, she could easily fight Cosme’s hesitant grip.
Underselling her talent in any situation was difficult, especially as she was reminded of constables and prison guards.
But she let him gain hold of her while she shouted and cried like she was helpless, any true fear dampened by the fact that she had her friends—and Jack would be here soon.
Fay and Killian rolled off the back of the cart as the others jumped over the side. They wore ill-fitting clothes, their hair dirty and faces smudged like street urchins—impostors trying to emulate the annual robbers and doing a clumsy job of it.
The guards swarmed, quickly overwhelming the six, and they, too, moaned and cursed with false woe at being discovered.
“Take them to Officer Marín!” shouted one of the guards.
Cosme blanched. “But sir, Marín will—”
“Now!” came the barked reply.
Cosme managed to haul Cecily through the door into the servant’s wing, even as she pleaded and struggled against his grip. The others followed, swearing and yelling as they were pushed deeper into the house.
“I’m sorry,” Cosme muttered to Cecily. “Marín is a devil, but cooperate with him and you’ll be fine…” He slowed a little, looking forlorn. “Perhaps the captain might still be here. He’ll be more lenient.”
She tensed. The captain was supposed to be out tonight. If they were taken to anyone but Jack, it could be disastrous. But what could she say? Please, sir, I’d prefer the worse man?
Cosme called for the captain as they entered a stone corridor lined with wooden doors. Fading light through high-set windows washed the hall in tones of gray. The pirates’ cries and struggles filled the space, the guards’ shouts echoing off the walls.
A door swung open at the end of the hall. An older man lumbered out, blinking sleep from his eyes and scratching a scruffy beard that was too unkempt for his uniform.
Cecily didn’t know much about the captain beyond his laziness. Hein had said the man hadn’t always been this way, but trouble with his wife had made him care less for his job in recent months, and the governor liked him too much to dismiss him.
However, there was no telling how his passion for his job might change in the face of a robbery.
He squinted at the bodies filling the hall. “What’s this?” he grumbled.
Cecily gulped, stealing a quick look at her friends who wore similar looks of dread.
“This laundress tried to smuggle in thieves,” Cosme said, “but we caught them at the servants’ entrance. No weapons.” He glanced at Cecily. “Seemingly no plan, either.”
Cecily braced for the captain’s response. She hoped he would live up to his reputation and lazily wave them off to go back to his nap. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Her gaze darted in search of exits. The windows were too high, and she assumed the doors led to offices. The only way out was back the way they’d come, and there were too many guards.
She turned her head, searching for Jack in the growing shadows at the end of the hall. Would he know they were here? Or would he wait, unaware, while the captain interrogated them?
Behind her, Greyson caught her gaze. He gave a reassuring nod despite the worry tightening his eyes.
“We have an issue with thieves,” the captain finally said, his sleepy eyes clearing. Cecily wanted to shrink back, but Cosme tightened his hold. “Even if these are not our usual suspects, we’ll question and make an example of them, per the governor’s orders.”
The pirates shifted. Frederick cursed under his breath.
Cecily wondered what might happen if she started yelling for Jack or made enough of a scene to make him come running. How much would that endanger the others? And how much worse off could they get if she were to take matters into her own hands?