Page 67 of Pride of Honor
“But before we proceed in this mad business, there is one very important thing we should do.” Arnaud’s men all turned quizzical looks his way. “We should retrieve our uniforms from my rooms at Albany. We may have more luck getting our questions answered dressed as Royal Navy officers.” Without further debate, he and his men rose and headed down the block toward Albany.
Less than an hour later, Neville and Bourne left for Wolford House on Piccadilly while Arnaud and Cullen set off for Howick House to acquire fresh mounts before heading to the London docks. Artemis agreed to keep looking for the street sweeps along Piccadilly.
Sophie glanced both ways outside the cabin door and tried not to breathe too deeply. The stench of the toad’s clothes filled her senses as well as possibly the entire passageway. She’d relieved him of his sailing slops down to his small clothes. How sailors could stand each other for months at sea was beyond her if this was how they smelled while still in port.
She’d covered the fetid, toad-like sailor with her mourning dress and put the veiled hat over his face for good measure. She stuffed her hair beneath his odorous watch cap. Maybe the crew’s confusion on finding him dressed that way would buy her a few more minutes if the gods were with her.
When she reached the top deck, she grabbed an empty crate and hefted it to her shoulder. She clattered down the wooden gangway to the dock as if she were on a very important sailor-like errand, whatever that might be. Fortunately, the downed toad had been more than a little rotund. His shirt covered her curves which she’d laced up as flat as possible with the front-lacing corset she’d borrowed from Lydia’s maid. That had been only the day before but felt like a lifetime ago.
The toad’s shoes had been entirely too large, so she’d kept her boots, hoping no one would think her footwear odd before she’d had a chance to put distance between herself and the ship. That ship surely would have borne her to some doom planned by her uncle.
When Sophie had put four or five ships between her and her jailers, she stopped a dock worker pushing a cart of goods and asked about the ship she’d been on.
Sophie threw her voice into a lower octave. “TheCalcuttadown the way. D’ya know where she’s bound?”
“Aye. She’s carryin’ provisions and goods bound for Jamaica. The captain be lookin’ for crew if yer interested.”
Sophie shook her head and hurried on, tears filling her eyes. What had she ever done to her uncle to be treated so? Even though she was illegitimate, they still shared the same blood.
She continued walking, falling in with groups of dock workers whenever possible so as not to appear an odd person wandering alone. She walked briskly, still toting the crate, until she reached the west edge of the dock area. She abandoned the box on the side of the New Road before heading north, hoping to encounter a hackney carriage.
She’d have to cajole the driver into taking her to her father’s old townhouse in Kensington with the story that her father would pay the fare for the long ride once they got there. Mrs. Winters had hidden emergency funds in the house, and Sophie could use them to pay the man.
Arnaud and Cullen cantered down the Strand, slowing their mounts often to pick their way through traffic to and from the docks until they reached the landing at the Tower of London. Lancelot ranged alongside them, full of sniffs and meandering to investigate river smells when they neared the Thames. “Is that troublesome dog going to stop to smell everything?” Cullen snapped, sharp annoyance in his voice.
Arnaud stopped and slung Lancelot across the front of his saddle. He patted the pup’s head to calm him. “Now you’ll have to limit your sniffing to the horse.” He was rewarded with an impatient yip. “All right. We’re going as fast as we can.” Did Sophie’s silly stray somehow sense the importance of their quest in search of his mistress?
A lighterman waited with his narrow barge to transport them on the river along the final leg to the docks. The tide was still going out, so they had to get to the docks and find Sophie before the currents reversed later that afternoon. One of his mother’s warehouse guards was there to take charge of their horses. He’d be waiting with fresh mounts when they returned, including an extra horse for Sophie.
When he’d sent Artemis with a message to his mother at Howick House, she’d sent word to her oldest London partner in shipping, lighterman Elias Woodson. And she’d also bullied Artemis into delivering Sophie’s little dog, Lancelot, to Arnaud.
Arnaud stood near the berth of a ship fully loaded and ready to set sail for Jamaica, according to the men along the dock. He kept Lancelot in a tight hold in his arms. When they’d neared theCalcutta, the pup had gone crazy sniffing and barking.
For at least the thousandth time in his life since he’d transitioned from short trousers, he thanked God he’d been born to one of the most intelligent women in London. As usual, she was right about something he thought was sheer madness.
His lungs relaxed, and the breath he’d been holding flooded out. Once they’d entered the West India docks, it had been simple to locate the ship. He was familiar with the area, since his mother’s family business had warehouses here that dealt in rum imports from Martinique. Once Lancelot had whiffed Sophie’s scent, there was no stopping him until he’d skidded to a halt in front of the huge merchant ship.
When he and Cullen ascended the gangway, a guard stopped them at the top deck level. “What is your business here?”
“I have a message for your captain.” Arnaud and Cullen straightened their shoulders and Arnaud gave silent thanks for his last-minute inspiration to search in full Royal Navy kit. The guard swept both of them with a slow, insolent look before motioning for them to follow him.
Arnaud handed Lancelot to one of the deck hands polishing brightwork. “Please hold this lad until we’re through with the captain, and mind he’s not hurt,” he ordered. Arnaud gave Lancelot the sternest look he could muster, said “Stay,” and marveled that the unpredictable creature calmed and sat quietly next to the deck hand.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Arnaud wantedto howl and pound the walls of the cabin of theCalcutta’sCaptain Worsham, but instead forced himself to ask as many questions as possible in the hopes that the stern man staring back at him would flinch and accidentally reveal something of Sophie’s whereabouts.
“I cannot tell you more than I’ve already said. She came to us as an indentured servant bound for Jamaica. Someone paid for her passage in the expectation that the wench would show up at the other end to do the work she agreed to in writing in exchange for the cost of the voyage.” The man waved a much crumpled paper which was so damaged, Arnaud doubted anyone would be able to decipher what had been written thereon. He knew for a certainty whatever signature had faded away was not Sophia Brancelli’s.
“We were told that a young woman was brought aboard your ship against her will. We are here at the direction of Admiral Thornbrough. If we find you are not being truthful, the full force of the Royal Navy will come down on you as well as the ship’s owner.” Arnaud snatched the grubby paper away from the man and crumpled it into a ball. He threw the faded contract back onto the chart table where it rolled a little with each lurch of the ship at its moorings. The outgoing tide was high and about to turn back inland. They could not linger much longer.
The man seated behind the chart table leaned back, his legs splayed out beneath a huge belly. Grease dotted his shirt. He spread his arms wide. “Maybe the young woman that walked away from her contract was someone else, not the one you seek. Iwilltell you one thing. We are well rid of that hellcat. If she was the one you seek, you’ll have your hands full dealing with her. I’ve a mind to have her brought up on charges for injuring one of my crew.”
“You have not heard the last of this matter,” Arnaud clenched his fists until he feared he’d draw blood, but realized any violence would have him and Cullen thrown into prison and drummed out of the Royal Navy. Instead, he turned on his heel and shoved the guard when he moved in close. At a look from Cullen, the man moved smartly away and let them pass.
Arnaud picked up Lancelot on their way across the deck and headed back to where the lighterman waited with the barge to return them to the tower.
When they neared the edge of the docks, Cullen exploded into laughter. “You have to make that lass your wife. She is afraid of nothing, and no one.”