“Sir Daniel, Lieutenant Hardacre,” said the clerk, a young man aged about twenty, the same age as his son. “I’ve drawn all the records I could find for a Christopher Hardacre and his service. I’m afraid I’ve come to an impasse, sirs.
“It’s been no easy task getting this far. The last record we have for the person was a sign-on for wages on the Pendragon. I believe you already know that?”
Adam nodded.
The clerk continued, “She was a merchant ship.”
“Was?”
“I…uh…well, perhaps you should read everything here directly, sir.”
Adam took the proffered seat at the desk and willed his stomach to settle. He glanced over and saw the concerned faces of Olivia and Lady Abigail.
Sir Daniel and his wife exchanged a subtle look and withdrew from the room.
Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Do you want to be alone?” she asked.
Adam could only muster a curt shake his head. He let out an unsteady breath.
“No, it’s only right that you be here. If not for you, I’d have never known of Christopher’s existence at all. In a way, you gave him life as much as if you had been his own mother. If the report is…bad…then at least we can mourn him together.”
The clerk had bookmarked several pages in the volume. The first revealed the specifications of the ship in neatly written columns of blue ink. Adam read them through, the numbers forming the shape of the vessel in his mind. It was not at all a prestigious or heavily-armed ship but good enough for a merchantman in the waters of the Mediterranean.
The next page showed the crew manifest. There were seventy-five in total and, among the last to sign on, was the tentative hand of Christopher John Hardacre (cabin boy).
The details of what happened to the Pendragon were sketchy at best. The ship was still burning when a Spanish ship encountered it. Only a dozen lives were saved; the same number of corpses were recovered.
The survivors told of a raid by a Barbary Coast xebec which boarded them with hundreds of men. The crew fought; many died. The most valuable of their cargo was taken.
Adam paused, gathering his thoughts. Life at sea was a dangerous business. He, perhaps, knew that better than anyone. And yet, if anyone had cared about the sailors aboard the ship, that was more than a decade ago. Time had passed, the mourners gone.
Even so, Adam carried a slight flicker of hope that one ten-year-old boy had been among the survivors.
That hope extinguished as he found the list recording the twenty missing, presumed killed.
One of them was cabin boy Christopher John Hardacre.
The page before him blurred. Adam closed his eyes before his tears could fall and smear the ink.
Ponsnowyth Church
October 1804
Adam was happy to have arrived early at the Ponsnowyth church alone. He wanted time to reflect, to pray, though it was not normally his habit. In recent times, Adam had discovered he had a lot to be thankful for – and that required someone to give thanks to.
Now, he stood at the entrance of the church where he could see a solidly-built figure making his way across the lawn. It was Reverend Fuller in his vestments, a black Bible under his arm. He greeted Adam warmly and joked about whether or not he was a nervous groom. He assured the man he was not. There was no need to be. He was as sure of Olivia’s love as she was of his. His bride would be here soon enough.
Over the next ten minutes, villagers arrived and he gladly accepted their best wishes. The pews were filled, apart from the one at the front.
Adam waited at the entrance until a carriage pulled up outside the gate. That was Sir Daniel, Lady Abigail, and his wife-to-be.
It was supposed to be bad luck to see the bride in her gown before she entered the church, and he had enough respect for some superstitions to come away from the door and make his way to the altar. But part way down, he paused.
The new brass plaque had been mounted to the wall. It stood out starkly among the rest now dulled with age.
To the memory of Constance Denton (1765-1784)
and her son Christopher, lost at sea (1784-1794).
Long after Beaufort Denton’s grandiose stone weathered away to nothing and his name was forgotten, his daughter’s and his grandson’s memory would remain bright and alive. He and Olivia would make sure of that.
Reverend Fuller gestured him to his place at the altar. Sir Daniel and Lady Abigail walked down and took their seats just as Olivia appeared at the back of the church.
She wore a gown of sea green silk, shot with blue, the color bringing out the warmth of her skin and shade of her hair. Around her neck was a cream cameo tied with a blue ribbon. She carried a simple bouquet of Calla lilies.
Even if she had been dripping with jewels, Olivia could not have looked more beautiful to him than she did at this moment.
Right now, Adam had the world. And it was enough.
The End
Adam Hardacre will return in book two of The King’s Rogues:
Spyfall.
Author’s Note
My amazing publisher, Kathryn Le Veque, told me that she’d like to see more stories with another hero bearing the Hardacre name.
And as it so happened, I wanted to return to the beautiful Cornish coast, which was the setting of my first novel. I came back with the concept for a new series which is The King’s Rogues – set during the early years of the Napoleonic Wars, ten years before the Heart of the Corsairs series.
If you’ve read that series, then you’ll know the hero, Kit Hardacre, knows nothing of his past. If I were to continue the Hardacre line, then I had better give him a past! And that is the origin of Adam Hardacre.
And if you’re intrigued at what might happen when two such strong personalities meet, then I hope you enjoy the story Father’s Day in the Night of Angels Dragonblade Publishing Christmas anthology.
While I’m introducing new friends, I thought I’d welcome back old ones, too. I can’t think of anyone better to lead these Rogues than Sir Daniel and Lady Abigail Ridgeway. They have an adventure romance of their own in Moonstone Conspiracy, one of my earlier novels.
And my husband, Duncan, is delighted. He has been one of Lady Abigail’s most vocal advocates since her first appearance as the cynical and sharp-tongued love rival in Moonstone Obsession.
When doing research for The King’s Rogues, I unearthed an interesting tidbit of history about one of the many ideas floated by Napoleon to invade England. One in particular which was intriguing but abandoned due to its impracticality.
But what if it wasn’t impractical if it had been approached in a different way?
That sparked my imagination – and sorry, I can’t tell you what it is because it will spoil the final book in The King’s Rogues series!
I hope you enjoy The King’s Rogues.
Live And Let Spy Page 29
