Prologue #3
Drawing closer, Davenport saw that Montacute had dark hair that might be likened to ebony and wore a bleak aspect.
He had an almost sinister frown which marred his face.
There was a strong nose placed between the blackest eyes Davenport had ever seen.
He’d heard rumors about Montacute’s ruthlessness, his cutthroat ability to chase down an enemy, and, finally, his utter devotion to the crown.
Of course, he’d been put in charge of stopping smuggling across England, which was no easy undertaking given the ruthlessness of the traitors.
Smuggling was forever undermining the crown’s ability to control the seas, leaving them floundering, because their subjects were engaging in the lucrative activity.
And those who tried to stop were in danger of losing their lives, a fact Richard had learned from his time in Sussex.
“My lord,” Davenport said, nodding in greeting as Perrin made the formal introductions. The baron’s black eyes swept over Robert, considering him with the kind of calculation before he gave Davenport a grim smile, and with a quick gesture pointed to a chair.
“I have called you both here for a reason,” Montacute said as Davenport sank into the offer seat.
Montacute’s black eyes settled on Davenport.
“Your reputation precedes you, Captain, as one of the loyalist men serving on the south coast. I hold no truck with the prejudices that would stop an Irishman serving our cause. Clarendon said you were the only man for today’s undercover work.
” Montacute glanced across at Lieutenant Perrin, who had sat in a nearby armchair, considering his words with precision before he continued.
“Our attention has inevitably been focused on the home counties.”
Davenport nodded, because of their proximity to London. Kent and Sussex were the prime locations for smuggling. However, it did not mean the rest of the country avoided the activity—with ‘free-trading,’ as the smugglers preferred to call it, rife across the kingdom.
He looked up and locked eyes with Montacute.
“There is talk of free trading—” Perrin started to say, but Montacute held up a hand.
The rumors about the baron hadn’t covered his pitiless stare nor his look of anger at the mention of smuggling—Davenport hoped he never evoked the baron’s ire.
Davenport stayed still listening intently, waiting for his moment.
“You witnessed it first hand, in fact,” the baron fumed, addressing Perrin. “You saw the illicit smuggling activity in Dorset.”
Davenport redirected his gaze to Perrin.
“Unfortunately, there was little I could do other than gather information,” Perrin said. Davenport was certain he must have been outnumbered, but nonetheless, the lieutenant looked embarrassed with himself.
“What was the information you gained?” Davenport asked into the stilted silence.
“Shifting loyalties, rumors galore, the employment of ‘bat and tub-men’, warring pursuits of at least two rival gangs, and then…and a ringleader was mentioned. There was a silly nickname, but most clearly, I heard the smugglers refer to their leader as a woman. His lordship fears that it might be more than brandy they are smuggling.”
The gentler sex taking part in something as hazardous and treasonous as smuggling was not necessarily the most shocking of news, but leading a gang certainly was.
It was a hard thing to picture given the women of his acquaintance.
To think of them ruthlessly dispatching his fellow warriors, and giving orders to murder…
“Someone is selling state secrets,” the baron said into the silence. “I want to know if it is coming in from Dorset.”
As for the alluded to idea of treason—well, that was what all present feared, why they were all in the navy to stop the threats to the crown.
“Surely,” Davenport said, “you know of my injury to my eyes, that if you wish me to be involved, I would be honored but perhaps I am not the right man—”
All Montacute had to do was shift in his seat to draw the silence he sought.
“It is a part of the world where my own estate is. I do have a vested interest in the area. You are precisely the man for this job. As a young unwed man of passing looks, if there is a woman involved, you are wonderfully placed to find and charm the bitch. Besides, your injury means that you will be less suited to the next phase in Clarendon’s plans, which is going to involve far more hand-to-hand combat.
Your mission is of a more subtle nature. ”
Annoyance flared in Davenport’s chest, at how he was considered now by his fellow officers, and he wondered if Montacute caught this reaction.
The baron did not react but continued on.
“Your abilities are not merely physical but practical, which is why I’ve asked you here today, Captain.
Your loyalty is what marks you out. The revenue service will set you up with an alibi and funds to investigate if there is any treason at play. ”
“Where will I be going?” Davenport asked.
“I need you to go to Lyme Regis, and investigate all that Lieutenant Perrin has reported on. Bring me back the names of those involved. See what crimes are being committed.” Montacute leaned forward so as to emphasize his point.
“Especially this female figurehead Perrin spoke of. I want to know everything you can discover about her and the gang she leads. If it is treason, secrets being traded, then we need to know. And then when you have the information, you will remove her.” The baron let the silence hang before he added, “By any means necessary.”