by Shana Galen
“Is Battersea the sort of man who might try and cheat the insurance firm?” Jasper asked.
“Most definitely,” Daphne answered. “You don’t believe his account of pirates?”
Jasper shrugged. “I find it questionable. The British Navy has made piracy all but obsolete. There are still small bands of smugglers operating on the coasts, but it’s rare in this day and age to see an attack like the one described.”
“And an attack that claimed only gunpowder and silks,” Colin added. “I don’t believe that, even pressed for time, the pirates wouldn’t have taken the muskets. Those missing log pages are the key.”
“Then we find them. Why don’t I read the rest of the log? Surely the captain will mention the attack. You two search for the missing pages.” Jasper held out a gloved hand and Daphne gave him the log.
“If Battersea were smart, he would have burned those log pages,” she said.
“He very likely did,” Colin agreed. “But we have to be as certain as possible they’re not here. I’ll start on this side and you start on that.”
It was an impossible task, he thought as he opened one drawer after another and looked through folders and stacks of documents. He could put his hands on the pages and not realize they were the ones he sought. He didn’t have enough time to search thoroughly. That would have taken days, and they had only a few more hours.
The lamp burned on and the three of them worked in silence until finally Jasper closed the log and set it on the desk with a thud. “That was interesting.”
“Why is that?” Daphne asked, sliding a drawer open and poking her head in to peer in the back.
“There’s no mention of the pirate attack until the end of the log. The account is on loose parchment stuck into the back. It’s the same writing and purports to be the missing pages, but there’s no evidence the pages were ripped out.”
Colin strolled over to take a look. “You think the captain was told to fabricate an account later?”
“It’s a possibility. Battersea might have paid him to lie.”
“But why?” Daphne asked. “What really happened to the silk and gunpowder if pirates didn’t steal it?”
“We need to find the missing pages to know that.”
She straightened and leaned back against the file drawers. “I don’t think we’ll ever find them. We’ve been searching for hours. They’re probably ashes.”
“I don’t think so,” Colin said, going to back to where he’d left off earlier. “If the captain was bribed to give a false account, Battersea would have kept the evidence of the captain’s lie in case the man ever had a change of heart. Battersea could see him sent to prison for falsifying an insurance claim.”
Daphne gave him a weary look. “So we keep searching.”
“Wishing you had stayed behind now?” Colin asked, sliding a drawer open.
“Then you wouldn’t have thought to look for the Ranger,” she said. “You needed me.” She turned and opened her own drawer.
“True,” Colin admitted. “Though it’s likely the Ranger is not the first time he’s been part of a swindle. I think we would have found something sooner or later.”
Daphne scowled at him before huffing and going back to her search. Jasper gave Colin a bewildered look and Colin just shook his head. Jasper had a point that she had overreacted, but Colin knew he still had a few things to learn about women.
Jasper joined the search and the three worked in silence for what felt like hours. Colin’s back hurt and his eyes stung when he closed them for a moment with exhaustion and strain. He opened one more drawer, determined that if he found nothing in it, they would have to admit defeat and leave the docks before too many people were about. Just then Daphne sank to her knees.
Colin abandoned his drawer and went to her. “Are you not feeling well?”
“I feel...perfect,” she said, lifting several papers aloft. “I found them.”
“Are you sure?” Jasper asked. Daphne cut a look at him, and Jasper held up his hands in defense. “Let me rephrase. What do they say?”
She spread the papers on the floor and Colin brought the lantern close so they could all read. She rearranged them to the order she wanted then pointed to the one to the farthest left, near Jasper. “It’s the same handwriting and you can see it’s been torn from a binding.”
Jasper opened the captain’s log and compared the last entry before the missing pages to the first one on the floor. “The dates coincide.”
The three of them leaned close, reading the first page, with Daphne turning it when all three indicated they had finished the front. The proceeded to read all five or six pages that way and then Colin sat back.
“He’s bloody well crafty. Even if his insurers suspected something was amiss in his tale, they wouldn’t have come to this conclusion,” Colin said.
“I don’t understand,” Daphne said. “The captain wrote that the silks and gunpowder were damaged by a water leak. Couldn’t Battersea collect damaged goods insurance, or whatever it might be called?”
“It’s possible, but he wouldn’t receive the full amount of the value of the goods,” Jasper said. “Only a fraction. And he couldn’t sell the goods, although there might still be some who would buy the silk at an extensive mark down. But if he claims the good were taken, a total loss—”
“He is paid their full value,” Daphne said.
“And if the crew sells what can be salvaged then that’s an extra profit.” Colin rose and paced away. “The captain must be in on it. Initially, he gave a truthful account, but when he returned, Battersea somehow persuaded him to lie.”
“It’s possible the captain was paid off, but I’ll be damned if we have time to go through and find a bank draft,” Jasper said.
“We don’t need the draft to damn Battersea,” Daphne said. “We need the captain.”
Colin and Jasper exchanged a look then both looked at Daphne.
“What did I say?” she asked.
“You just gave us our next step.” He hated to admit it, but she had been invaluable tonight. She was clever and so much more than the Society miss he’d thought her to be for all those years.
Jasper held up a hand. “Not I. My wife will wonder where I’ve been, and I have card swindlers to deal with. You’ll have to find the captain on your own.”
Colin was the one who scowled now. “I can’t take her to search for a ship’s captain alone. I’ll have my throat slit.”
“Why?” Daphne asked. Colin didn’t bother to point out that she would be a prize for any number of criminal men.
“Take Duncan,” Jasper said. “He’s big enough and has nothing to do but squire prospective brides about. As for that, he usually scares them away within a quarter hour.”
“No,” Daphne said at the same time Colin said, “Good idea.”
“No! I’ll owe him a favor, and my friends will never forgive me if I introduce their daughters to a man like him.”
“I think you have bigger problems than Society’s opinion of Duncan Murray,” Colin said.
“Oh, very well! When do we go?”
Colin smiled. She did not even hesitate, though she must have understood the danger. He understood it all too well, and a part of him was already panicking at the thought of anything happening to her. But then the woman was practically fearless. It was difficult not to find himself feeling more than he liked to admit for this woman and wondering how he would ever go back to life without her. Daphne was still waiting for an answer, so Colin considered. “I’ll see what I can find out about the man—Captain Gladwell—whether he’s in London or on a ship right now.”
Daphne’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“If he’s in London, we pay him a visit tomorrow evening. I can call for you after four.”
She shook her head. “You won’t need to call for me. We’re moving into our house tomorrow or have you forgotten?”
He had forgotten. And that meant he couldn’t spend all d
ay gathering information on a merchant captain. Colin had to move in with his wife.
And he thought he’d been panicking before.
Fourteen
When the duchess had arrived home and peeked in her daughter’s bed chamber, Brown had managed to convince Her Grace Daphne was sleeping soundly and should not be disturbed. And even though Daphne didn’t actually arrive back at the Warcliffe town house until almost four in the morning, no one but her maid seemed aware she had been out all night. Brown reported no suspicious activity had been remarked upon. So if Battersea had come for her, he had been stealthy about it. Before she’d gone to bed, she peered out her curtains into the gray morning. She saw no one there, but her skin prickled with awareness.
She might not see him, but he would come for her.
Daphne fell into a fitful sleep until about noon, when her mother woke her and asked if she felt well enough to relocate to the new town house or if they should put it off for another day.
“Absolutely not, Mama,” Daphne said. “I feel much better.” She worried for her parents’ safety with Battersea prowling about. The sooner she was away, the safer they would be.
“You look a little pale and tired.” The duchess cupped her face.
“Nothing some tea and toast will not cure.” Daphne smiled brightly until her mother left and Brown came in to dress her. “Is everything packed and ready?” Daphne asked as Brown shook out a pale pink muslin with small green sprigs of flowers on the material. There were pretty green bows on the cuff of the sleeves.
“Yes, my lady.”
When the dress was over her head, Daphne helped smooth it down. “Is the staff in residence?”
“I believe they were to arrive several hours ago, my lady. Turn this way, my lady.”
“Good. Then go ahead over there now and rest for a few hours. I won’t need you until this afternoon when I have to change.”
Brown paused in her efforts to pin the dress into place and caught Daphne’s gaze in the mirror. “Are you certain, my lady?”
“That’s the least I can do to thank you for keeping my mother at bay last night.”
Brown went back to her task. “I didn’t like lying to Her Grace, but you are my mistress, my lady.”
Daphne turned and put her hand on Brown’s arm. “Thank you for your loyalty.”
Brown smiled. She was not a pretty woman as she usually wore a sour expression, but she smiled now and looked rather attractive. Daphne turned her back to the mirror and peered over her shoulder. “Am I all laced and tied and pinned?”
“You are, my lady.”
“Then I’m off to my last breakfast with my parents.”
The rest of the day was a blur of directing servants to place this here and that there, making certain she met the new staff and that they knew what she expected, and taking inventory of silver, plates, linens, and other household items. She saw Colin in passing and asked for his opinion a time or two, but later when she asked about him, she was told he was out. She hoped that meant he had located Captain Gladwell.
Without Colin in the house, she was easily startled. The clang of pots or the heavy thud of furnishings being moved made her jump, even if it was difficult to believe Battersea would come here in the broad daylight. He probably did not even know she had moved town houses yet, but she did not feel safe without Colin close by. She might not be able to trust he would never abandon her again, but she knew he would keep her safe until Battersea was no longer a threat.
After that, she supposed they would go back to living separate lives as so many peers did. He could go to his family estate in the country or travel on the Continent. She would go to country house parties. They would occasionally meet up in Town and sleep under the same roof. She would see him more than she had in the past, but he would use the frequent physical distance to keep her emotionally at bay. He would become a stranger to her again.
At about half past five Daphne collapsed in a chair in the parlor and closed her eyes. It was a bright, cheery room in the day. But now that the shadows were creeping in, she could not help but remember this was the room where Colin had announced, I’m not in love with her.
And then he’d spent the rest of the evening doing and saying things that thoroughly confused her on that point. Her stomach growled, and she wondered if she should give some instruction about supper. She had not wanted the staff to prepare a meal if Colin arrived in a hurry to be off to confront Captain Gladwell.
“Has no one fed you?” a voice asked.
Daphne jumped and searched the room for Colin. She found him seated near the window, his body in shadow, and she thanked God it was not Battersea. It took a moment for her to force air into her tight chest.
“How long have you been there?” she asked.
“An hour or so.”
She put a hand to her pounding heart. “You startled me. I didn’t even know you were there.”
“I’m rather good at blending in.”
She rose. “Don’t do it with me. I like to see you.”
“Good.” He stood and the room seemed to grow smaller. “Shall we fetch you some supper and see about having a word with Captain Gladwell?”
“You found him?”
“Not exactly, but I have it on good authority that he is here in London. I made a few inquiries this morning and have an idea where to look for him.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“I know the general area. I thought we might stop in at a few taverns and if we spot him, we can follow him home. The area is not respectable but not dangerous, either.”
“How will we know what he looks like?”
“I’ll tell you what I know on the way.” He looked her up and down. “Are you wearing that?”
“No. I should have changed an hour or so ago. This is a day dress.”
“Put on something less...pink.” He leaned closer to her. “I liked you in black last night.”
Daphne felt a curl of pleasure uncoil in her belly. “I’ll see what my maid can find.”
Colin locked eyes with her then finally stepped back. “Don’t be long.”
With Brown’s help, she changed into another mourning dress in a matter of minutes. Colin waited for her at the bottom of the steps, her gray cloak over his arm. He waved the butler away and put it around her shoulders himself, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her collarbone. Was it too scandalous to admit she wanted to forget Captain Gladwell and Battersea tonight and just go to bed?
“You don’t have to go,” Colin said quietly.
“No.” She would not be left alone again or shirk her responsibility. “You don’t have to go. This was my mistake, and I will rectify it.”
He led her out of the house, hailed a hackney cab, and directed it to an area not far from the river. “What about the Scotsman?” she asked when they were underway. “Is he meeting us?”
Colin shook his head. “He had a prior commitment. A ball, if you can believe it.”
Daphne sorted through her mental inventory of invitations. “The Ridgeton ball?” Doubtful. “Or was it the Lansdown ball?”
Colin gave her a dubious look. “I didn’t ask. I told him to make room on his social calendar for us tomorrow.”
“And what if we find the captain tonight?”
“We either follow him and find out where he lives and what he does, or, if he seems relatively harmless, we confront him. Just don’t cause any problems. I can’t fight and protect you at the same time.”
“I don’t cause problems.”
He huffed out a disbelieving breath. “You do nothing but cause problems. Just stay close to me. A tavern isn’t one of your garden parties. Some men see any woman in a tavern as fair game.”
Daphne wouldn’t admit it, but it sounded a little exciting to her. Not that she wanted to be any man’s fair game, but she had done nothing for years except go to Society entertainments. The most exciting thing that happened at one of those was a debutante found kissing a man on the t
errace or a lady whose assets were exposed when she tripped and fell over.
A dark tavern filled with bawdy wenches flirting with patrons who were not gentlemen seemed rather exciting.
Colin rapped on the roof of the hackney, drawing Daphne out of her imaginings. She looked out the window and saw a rather ordinary street lined with closed shops and yellow lights spilling out of taverns. A few men walked along the street, which was not yet dark enough to require a lantern, and a few women hurried by as well.
When they’d exited the coach and Colin had paid the jarvey, he pointed across the street. “We’ll start there,” Colin said, indicating a tavern with a picture of a tall ship on the sign hanging above the door.
“The Clipper,” Daphne read. “It seems a likely tavern for a sea captain.”
“Possibly, but more importantly, I’ve heard the food here is better than some of the other establishments. So we start here.”
Daphne followed him into the dark interior and was sorely disappointed. There was one woman listlessly wiping a table and a few men older than her father sitting at tables and eating what looked like soup. The publican, a stocky brown-skinned man with close-cropped wiry black hair, nodded to them as soon as they walked in. “I don’t know anything,” he said.
Daphne opened her mouth to reply, but Colin took her hand and squeezed it.
“We came to eat, not talk,” Colin answered.
“Sure you did.” The man looked Daphne over. “I see her sort in here every day. All the ladies of the court come in to dine.”
Colin ignored him and led Daphne to a small table. It looked clean and when she traced a gloved hand over the surface, it didn’t come away sticky. The tavern wench came over and leaned a bony hip on the table. “Don’t mind Isaac,” she said. “You came to the right place for dinner. Our cook is the best. Pinched him from the palace, we did.”
“Really?” Daphne asked.
The wench smiled at her. “Sure and if you believe that I have some jewelry to sell you.”
