To Catch a Coronet

Chapter Thirty-One

AS ERIK STUDIED THE APPROACHING white cliffs that rose from the angry waves crashing against the wall, he found himself wondering where in Dover his darling Muriel had spent lambing seasons on her grandfather’s sheep farm. Judging from her awestruck reaction to the white cliffs as she sidled up next to him, the farm had been on the other side of Dover. She had promised to show him all after their adventure—from her grandfather’s farm to her favorite girlhood haunts around the seaside town … but first, she had to take him to Deverell’s cottage.

He had thought that when the time came to capture Requin, it would feel different—more fulfilling. In setting sail this morning, for the first time in his life, Erik didn’t feel the exhilaration of setting sail for the next adventure. Instead, he felt a sense of urgency to conclude the mission in excellence so he could begin a new chapter with his bride. He rested his chin atop her wild curls and smiled. Thank You, Lord, for this unanticipated blessing. Thank You for this new calling to be a husband, a leader in the village of Draybridge, and mayhap a father.

Muriel pointed out a regal mansion perched in the hills beyond the cliffs. “That’s my step-grandmother’s home.”

“Grandmother Fletcher? You never mentioned she lives in Dover and so close to the sea at that.”

“Oddly enough, she actually enjoys sea bathing. On the other side of that cliff, there is a sturdy path chiseled out that winds down to a cove where I would spend most of my required visits with her after my mother’s marriage. As much as I loved the sea, I would have been much happier working on my grandfather’s farm on the northwest side of Dover than taking the waters with Grandmother Fletcher.” She shivered from the wind breaking over the waves beneath the hull. “If it isn’t too cold, I think sea bathing would be quite invigorating after this ordeal is behind us.”

His arm encircled her waist, and he tucked her in front of him, wrapping his arms about her to keep her warm as they enjoyed the stunning view. As he breathed in her hair, which had grown even wilder since departing the cabin, he once again reminded himself that not only were they not alone, this was certainly not their wedding trip with his crew about.

First, they had spies to capture. And from what Muriel had told him of Lady Ingram on their carriage ride to the port, he feared who else might be behind the plot to see Napoleon in power—mayhap even Sir Alexander, though that made little sense. Erik had spent years at the captain’s side, and he had known nothing but complete devotion to the Crown from the man. Sir Alexander had nearly died for his country while Lady Ingram was aboard the Twilight Treader. Surely she would not put the man she loved in danger for her cause? Would she? She ordered my death when she knew me since my childhood … She is capable of anything.

Within the hour, they weighed anchor. Erik climbed down the rope ladder into the skiff before aiding his new bride. He chuckled at her cloak whipping about her and flowing above her shoulders as if trying to return up the ladder and into the ship. “It seems your wardrobe doesn’t wish to row ashore, and I can’t say your visage says much differently. Are you afraid?”

“I feel I have been away for years after only a season with you. I’m not certain word of my change of fiancés has reached all in the village, and I am certain no one has heard of our marriage.” She sank down beside him on the cold bench seat and snuggled into his shoulder, shivering. “What if the gossips inadvertently warn Deverell that I have returned? What if I am endangering the mission by selfishly coming with you?”

“I am glad I did not leave you behind. I would have worried every moment we were apart that Deverell had tricked me into leaving you, or that Lady Ingram would find a way to harm you.” He wrapped his arm around her, leaning into her as his hand found hers. “As for your reputation, we have done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You mean besides our hasty marriage?”

“We had a common license, which actually takes some planning.”

“Which there is nothing common about. I’ve scarcely heard of but one among my acquaintance.”

“Common licenses are not as scandalous as special licenses, as they do take time to acquire, though not as much as a church wedding license. Take comfort in the fact that we have been nothing but the picture of propriety.” But, at her heating neck, he knew she was thinking of their stolen kiss in her bedroom. A stolen kiss sounded quite nice. He settled for pressing his lips to her knuckles, ignoring the grins from the sailors rowing the boat to shore.

Muriel held her head high and her shoulders back as she ascended to the dock, her husband’s reassuring hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd of dockworkers as she led him toward the village stables.

She could have sent someone to her step-grandmother’s estate for a carriage, but time was of the essence, and she ordered two mounts. As they were all the stablemaster had, it was decided a company of the strongest privateers would follow as soon as they procured a carriage from the Fletcher estate per Muriel’s hastily scrawled note.

Muriel guided her horse to the road at a brisk pace with Erik at her side. She longed to kick her mount into a gallop, yet knowing to do so would raise an alarm, she settled for a trot through the town, waving and smiling in passing to any of her acquaintances, promising to explain her unexpected appearance soon. On the road leading to the white cliffs, she tossed her leg over the saddle horn and kicked her mount into a gallop, racing against the sun’s descent. Despite her fear of losing control of the horse, she loved the freedom of the wind whipping through her hair with her husband by her side, only slowing when they reached the bottom of the hill that hid them from the view of any occupants of the cottage by the sea. She reined in her mount, signaling with her fist for Erik to do the same. She nodded to the horizon. “There’s smoke coming from the chimney. Someone is home.”

He scowled. “And you are certain it is usually vacant?”

“If he indeed kept it, he only ever used it when he was in port …” She worried her bottom lip. “Which I now believe means that he only used it when he was relaying messages to and from France through his tea trade. And remember, he did say something about tonight when he was in the billiards room, even if the log we found did not reflect it.”

Erik guided his horse in front of hers. “I need you to stay here.”

“But—”

He lifted his hand to her. “I cannot concentrate if you are in danger, which will put not only me in harm’s way, but the mission as well.”

She frowned. “True.”

“So you agree you will stay here?”

Her horse shifted from hoof to hoof as if sensing her eagerness to join Erik. “Very well.”

He turned his horse to stand alongside hers and pressed a deep kiss to her lips. “Time to put away a traitor.” He kicked his mount and surged ahead, dismounting just before the crest of the hill.

She slid off her horse and stretched her legs and back, watching him until he disappeared. She at once grew eager for any sound from over the hill. She groaned and ripped up a clump of grass and handed it to her mount, petting his mane as he crunched the grass as loudly as if it were a carrot. “Why do I make promises when I know it will be nearly impossible to keep them?”

Shadows veiled Erik as he withdrew his double-barreled pistol, pressing himself against the cottage wall as he dodged the light streaming through the two front windows. He glanced back down the hill to ensure she was still hidden away and following her word. He shook his head. His wife may be stubborn, but she was not reckless.

“You failed me again.” A woman’s voice brought him to a halt beneath a broken windowpane.

Erik’s neck bristled. He knew that voice. He slowly rose, daring to peek over the sill. His heart dropped at the sight of Lady Ingram sitting before the hearth in a rocking chair, scowling at Deverell, who was kneeling to stoke the fire. Erik sank down. He’d never doubted Muriel, though part of him had hoped there had been a misunderstanding. He’d admired Lady Ingram since he was a child—had thought her the most lovely lady alive.

“I poisoned her.”

Lady Ingram snorted. “You gave the girl a stomach ailment. I knew you held her in affection, but to display such weakness in the face of Napoleon’s rise to power? He will not be so forgiving of your taking such a risk with his campaign.”

“I was going to retrieve her after I confirmed the earl’s death, but the grounds were crawling with his people. When I returned for her, she had already escaped.”

Erik squinted in the deepening twilight, trying to make out the shed Muriel had mentioned. He needed to advance before he lost his advantage. He’d just shifted his stance, when a metallic click at his ear rooted him to the ground.

“Looks like we have caught ourselves an earl.” Deverell chuckled from the window, his pistol aimed through the missing pane.

“Dash it all.” Lady Ingram darted through the front door, raised her dagger, and smashed the butt of it into Erik’s skull.

Erik blinked, the room coming into focus. He was tied to a chair. Lady Ingram was speaking with Deverell as he paced the room.

“Finally.” Lady Ingram crossed the room to him, tugging his gag free. “If you call for help, I’ll gut you where you sit.”

“Why? Why would you betray your country?” he croaked, finding his throat impossibly dry from being gagged. “Your husband? Or is he part of Requin’s ring as well?”

She ran her finger down his jaw in a maternal fashion. “I wish you would have stayed away. Why did you have to become so involved? I made certain to stab you in the shoulder to keep you safe, you foolish boy.”

“You?” His jaw dropped, recalling the slight man from the ship … but it hadn’t been a man at all. “You stabbed me?”

She chuckled. “It is maddening how you men think you are the only ones capable of expert swordsmanship. Yes, I wounded you when I could have easily ended your life.”

He glared at her. “You were a spy long before I took over the Twilight Treader and the name of Warrick, weren’t you?”

She shrugged, flipping the dagger from hand to hand. “My father was the original Warrick, the most fearsome pirate to roam the seas before he was offered a letter of marque from the king himself. Although my father may have bent the rules more often than not, the Crown made an exception for the man who brought in three times as many prize ships, thwarting their attempts to aid the American colonies in their revolution—a fact that my French mother abhorred. But I was in awe of my father at the time. He taught me the skill of the rapier, and it was my dearest wish to follow in his footsteps. He should have named his daughter, the one who sailed with him since birth, as his successor. Women pirate captains were not unheard of. But no. He wished to keep his name alive through a man, so, when he was ready to retire, he gave his name to my sailor.”

“Sir Alexander? He was a sailor for your father?”

She laughed. “He wasn’t even a high-ranking sailor. But I loved him. So my father allowed him to take over the family business with me safely in the background just like my mother. My husband decided to take the Twilight Treader in a new direction. And when the war with France began, my husband was much too trusting of me, a woman of French descent. Well, I learned my mother had not sat idly by all those years after all, and she brought me into her secret world of spies, where Requin was born.”

“Your mother is Requin?” Erik’s mind spun. “I thought she was dead.”

“Since you will not be making it out of here alive, I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you. Yes, she was the original Requin.” She smirked. “She was our washerwoman in Grosvenor Square until she passed the month before you became captain. While my father, the original Warrick, would not allow me to inherit his kingdom on the sea, my mother laid the groundwork for me to assume the identity of Requin upon her death.”

No wonder Requin had always evaded Sir Alexander during his time as Captain Warrick … Requin was Lady Ingram’s aged mother, who was always in London but in the background, never to be seen by Sir Alexander. Posing as a servant—the perfect way for her to gather information—to remain unseen.

“I would pass my mother notes in my laundry containing any information my husband confided in me over the course of our marriage. When Napoleon became Emperor of France a decade ago, Requin began sending the missives through her web of spies to Napoleon himself. Napoleon was quite grateful for our loyalty and even went as far as to invite us to his palace.”

Erik’s jaw slacked. “And yet your mother chose to remain a washerwoman.”

“Her devotion to our emperor knew no bounds.” She sighed. “But her sudden death flustered me. I asked too many questions about Alexander’s work, and he began to grow suspicious that I had changed my loyalties. I feared I would be compromised. So I fed my husband that French ship to make him a knight, and, for good measure, I made certain he broke his leg in the skirmish, ending all our days on the sea. It was difficult for me to leave the sea, but it was better than being caught and fitted for the noose.”

Erik frowned. “And when I took over?”

She shrugged. “That was when my reign began in earnest. You were entirely too trusting, as we had known each other since you were a cabin boy. Thus, I hosted you every moment I was able. You would tell your old captain all the details, and when I plied my husband with enough drink to loosen his lips, I too became privy to that information. It was relatively easy to continue to assist Napoleon’s cause. However, I grew tired of you ruining my father’s legacy and started to sow the seeds of doubt in Alexander’s mind about your competency as captain of the Twilight Treader.”

“You were behind everything.” His chest heaved as pieces shifted and formed a whole picture. “You were pushing for Adams to take over, weren’t you?”

She laughed and squatted by the fire, letting her knife be licked by the flames. “Well, my father did want it to stay in the family. I discovered he had an illegitimate daughter and she had borne a son. I found him working aboard a merchant ship. By then you had long been captain, so I convinced Alexander to champion Adams as your second-in-command. It was only a matter of timing to begin my campaign for Alexander to change his loyalties to my nephew. We decided not to tell you of his relation to me, and I made Adams swear to remain silent on the matter, lest the identity of the true Warrick became known.”

“Adams may be strong willed, but he is no traitor,” Erik growled.

She whipped away from the fire and pointed the amber blade at Erik, smiling at his instinctive flinch. “Not yet. By the time I win Adams this position, he will kneel before me and do whatever I bid. Napoleon will reward us generously for aiding him in England’s defeat.”

“And Deverell? How did you bring him into the secret circle of Requin?”

Lady Ingram smiled up at Deverell. “His ambition led him to me, and he became the son I never had.” She narrowed her gaze at Erik. “Unlike you, who grew too proud to listen to my dear husband’s advice, which was, in reality, my advice. Unfortunately, it’s time for you to step down as Captain Warrick and into a grave. I will allow you the courtesy of choosing your demise, bullet or drowning?”

“I vote bullet.” Deverell aimed his pistol at Erik’s temple. “With you out of the way, Muriel will remember her love for me once more.”