Page 24 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

Dukes and Docks

“I say, have you got five quid for us?”

Tristan yawned. Roland looked up and blinked at the ormolu clock. It was already half past three, and he meant to depart for Verdon House an hour ago, had he not been sabotaged by paperwork.

“If it’s not in your allowance, no, you may not have five quid,”

Roland said evenly, stubbornly ignoring the shared revelry of the day before.

“I grow weary of asking for what should be mine,”

Tristan grumbled.

“You could always marry a rich heiress,”

Roland said.

“I’m too young to marry. Who at my age knows who they are to marry?”

Roland was procrastinating. If he was being honest with himself, he was afraid. He was long past the young brash enthusiasm that had driven him to seek letters of marque. So many things could and have gone wrong.

She could refuse him again.

“I know who I’m going to marry,”

Ransom said. Roland blinked, not realizing the lad was there.

“Who?”

Roland asked.

“Aria,”

Ransom said simply.

“Who?”

Tristan asked.

“Aria. She’s your sister. Who else would I marry?”

The Darewood brothers looked at each other and then their neighbor and family friend. The brothers decided that Aria could deal with this situation on her own.

“What if I were to take a mistress?”

Tristan said, circling the desk. Not long ago, this had been Tristan’s desk, when Tristan was Viscount Schofield and Roland was at sea.

“What woman would have you?”

Roland set down his quill and flexed his cramped hand.

“If you won’t take Sabina as your mistress, I will,”

Tristan said. “I quite like her.”

Roland’s fist silenced Tristan’s mouth before he could finish voicing the last syllable of his sentence.

“Don’t you dare, Tristan Darewood,”

Roland said with deadly quiet.

“Was that necessary?”

Tristan wiped blood from his mouth from his seat on the floor.

“Quite.”

“If you would strike your own brother for this woman, what is stopping you from marrying her?”

Tristan asked as if he was not bleeding on the floor.

Roland stared at his little brother.

“The family name,”

Roland started, then stopped at Tristan’s guffaw.

“We are Darewoods, not Tudors. Our grandfather was a smuggler. Our sister married a highwayman. Our other sister may be carrying on an affair with the owner of a casino. You were a privateer. That does not make you any less Viscount Schofield, and wealthy in your own right. You do not need anyone’s approval to love the woman you love,”

Tristan pointed out.

Roland was rocked. How foolish he had been. He should have been at Verdon House at the earliest reasonable hour.

“I must go to her,”

Roland said. “I guess it’s time to get married.”

“What?”

Ransom jerked to attention, looking about wildly. “I can’t get married yet! I need to woo Aria first.”

Tristan covered his eyes with his hand.

“Me, Ransom, I’m going to get married,”

Roland clarified flatly.

“Oh.”

Ransom visibly relaxed. “Excellent. Sabina will make a wonderful viscountess and she seems to like you.”

Roland stared at the lordling. Ransom shrugged.

“I am not blind. Whenever you two are in the same room, you seem to forget anyone else exists. She’s a good woman, kind, not a complete antidote. She likes children. You could do much worse.”

“Your ringing endorsement gratifies me,”

Roland said. “Wait, what did you say about Aria?”

“Never mind. The carriage has been waiting outside for ten minutes,”

Tristan pointed out. “I’m not a complete idiot, brother, and I do want you to be happy. Maybe then you’ll stop killing my fun. Let us go!”

Tristan shooed his brother out the door.

Not twenty minutes later, Roland went from striking his brother to almost laying hands on the beleaguered butler of Verdon House.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

Roland snapped. The butler of Verdon House did not even flinch at the viscount’s glare.

Aria stepped between him and the butler with a smile. Both she and Tristan had seen fit to accompany Roland to Verdon House. Ransom had invited himself along.

However, now the Darewood party filled the foyer of Verdon House with no governess in sight.

“Oakton,”

Aria greeted the butler. “We have come to pay a call. I do so apologize for not sending a message to herald our arrival. Would Ladies Villiers and Lenoir happen to be receiving?”

“Lady Darewood,”

the butler greeted. “I regret to inform you the Ladies Villiers and Mrs. Kembrooke went for ices. Perhaps tomorrow, you may send a note to ensure they are available.”

“I shall wait,”

Roland announced.

“And why would that be?”

The duke of Verdon entered the foyer with stern, echoing steps.

“Your Grace,”

Roland greeted the lord of the house. “Perhaps we could have a word in private.

“No, I don’t believe that would be necessary,”

the duke said coldly. “I regret to inform you that any person bearing the Darewood name is no longer welcome at Verdon House. Be grateful that is all I do.”

“Fine,”

Roland clipped out. The duke must have found out. No matter, he was here for Sabina, not tea with the duke. “I shall see Mrs. Kembrooke and then you need never see me again.”

“You will not receive Mrs. Kembrooke here as she is no longer employed by the Verdon household.”

There was a vastly uncomfortable silence as Roland stared at the duke.

“What did you say?”

Roland said softly.

“Mrs. Kembrooke was terminated for allowing herself to be seduced by the likes of you.”

“You let her go? You let her go?”

Roland felt a chill up his spine. Where was she? Who was protecting her?

“Her behavior with you was unbecoming of a governess and I shall not have such predilections around my sisters.”

“Her life is in danger, you buffoon.”

Verdon did not move at the affront but the foyer suddenly became much colder.

“The nerve of you, man,”

Verdon snapped coldly. “Ravishing my household staff and now daring to insult me? You are finished, do you hear me? Your family will no longer be received.”

“If she is in distress, I swear on my mother’s grave, I will have your head, Verdon.”

The duke’s face went hard and before he could respond, they heard desperate footsteps. All eyes turned to the front door as two bedraggled figures hurled inside. Tristan caught one as she barreled blindly forward. Footmen came flooding into the foyer.

“Leave us,”

the duke barked suddenly. Everyone froze. The duke pointed at the footmen. “Away, all of you!”

And he ushered one of the figures into the nearest drawing room.

Once the drawing room door was closed, the still-cloaked figure hurriedly pushed back her hood and Lenoir Villiers stared back, bleeding and filthy.

“What the devil?”

Ransom exclaimed, and was swiftly shushed by Aria.

“She’s been taken!”

Lenoir gasped, gripping her brother’s arms.

Roland froze and felt immensely sick. Isolde was clinging to Tristan, who was valiantly attempting to keep her on her feet. Finally Tristan wrapped his arms around the girl and sat on the settee with her.

It had happened. The one thing Sabina feared above all things had happened and he had not been there to stop it.

“Where?”

Roland demanded.

“We were taken near the ice shop on Piccadilly,”

Isolde said heavily, trying to catch her breath. She gripped Tristan’s coat hard, gasping in gulps of air. They must have run straight to Mayfair. “The carriage was headed east. Mrs. Kembrooke told us to go home but this was closer. Lord Schofield, please, you must go after her. I fear for what they may do to her.”

East, to the docks. Roland took a deep breath. If they took Sabina to the Thames, they could be anywhere in London within the hour, and anywhere in the world after that.

“What are you about? Taken?”

Verdon frowned. He had his handkerchief out and tried to wipe Lenoir’s face.

“Sabina pushed us out of the carriage and remained,”

Lenoir wheezed. “She saved us. Joss, please get her. She rescued us from kidnappers.”

“They weren’t after you. You were collateral. They’ve been searching for her,”

Roland breathed, his heart constricting. She was out there, somewhere, afraid and in danger. Unacceptable. He had promised her safety and this was a complete failure. He rounded on the duke in fury. “She was under your protection and you could not perform the one duty you had to her!”

“Miss Kembrooke was under my protection,”

the duke declared stiffly. “Though she has parted from this household, I shall rescue her as a courtesy for her actions toward my sisters.”

“No! Joss, you didn’t!”

Isolde cried as she tried to stand. She gasped and sat heavily back on Tristan, who carefully cradled her and lifted her feet from the floor. Roland noted absently that there was blood on the carpet in the shape of a small foot. The girl must have lost her shoes during her run.

“It’s for your own good,”

the duke snapped.

“I shall rescue her, as she will be my wife,”

Roland said firmly.

“You’ll marry my governess?”

Verdon asked in disbelief.

“Miss Kembrooke is going to be my wife, so you can take your courtesy and shove it up your—.”

Roland was abruptly cut off by Aria shoving up the window and whistling shrilly at the Darewood footmen. She made a swift motion with her hand, which caused Roland to raise an eyebrow. Aria should not know smugglers’ hand signals.

“You can both go after Sabina or you can keep arguing while kidnappers rape and murder her and toss her into the Thames,”

Aria said grimly. “The coach will meet you in the back by the mews. Go!”

As the sun began to set, Roland pounded toward the entrance of the Docklands hell for leather. He had not even bothered with the carriage considering the traffic and had taken a horse from the duke without asking. He would apologize later. Or not. The duke was not a particular favorite of Roland’s now.

Remy was right next to him, having somehow been waiting for the Darewood riders as they passed his coffeehouse. Tristan and Ransom had insisted on coming with Roland.

Then Roland saw a familiar head of red hair. Of all the inconvenient times in the world. Oliver waited for them.

“Greenland Dock,”

Oliver shouted. Roland’s horse reared to a stock.

“Are you sure?”

Roland barked, not caring how Oliver knew what he was seeking.

“It’s the only dock with a ship ready for sail, unless you were planning on searching every single dock for your lady love,”

Oliver replied calmly. “Now, do you want my help or do you have an actual plan?”

****

Sabina did not like these docks. These were not the Dutch ports of her childhood, nor the homey harbor of Hornsea or the beckoning quay of New Romney. The smell alone reviled her.

She was still in the carriage. When Sabina tried to open the door, it was firmly slammed shut on her. A part of her mind noted the duke would be out of a fine carriage and that, had she still been employed by his grace, she would have to work the rest of her life to pay off the cost. As it were, her wages were not of current concern to her. She only wished to escape.

It was too much to hope that they would be stupid enough to let her wait outside but there was still light. The sun had set but people would still see a group of Dutch sailors with a lone female guest. There would be questions.

Hendriks sat across from her, his unwashed stench filling the small carriage space. The rough man stared at her balefully from under his tricorn and she utterly ignored him. Ten years spent running resulted in a good bit of resentment and if she attacked him, she wanted it to hurt.

Hendriks had always been her uncle’s man. It had been his face she thought she had seen at New Spring Gardens last night. It surprised her not at all that he had come to fetch her personally. Uncle Elmo was never the type to do the job himself if another could be paid in his stead.

Sabina had no intention of going quietly or gently. The girls were safe. There was nothing of value on Sabina other than her father’s signet ring around her neck, and herself. She only needed Hendriks to be distracted.

There was a knock and Hendriks spoke in rapid Dutch. Sabina listened, surprised she could still understand, and then wanted to cry. They had brought Annika to bring Sabina back to Amsterdam. They had brought the ship her mother had christened, which had been named after her. She doubted they had brought the ship to mollify her, and the sheer thought of these horrible men kidnapping her on her mother’s ship was galling.

Hendriks held one unwashed finger under her nose.

“Come quietly, poepie, and I won’t tie you,”

Hendriks said. Sabina tried to seem meek and nodded. Hendriks shoved the door open.

Sabina was roughly hauled out of the carriage and dropped onto her feet. She staggered and fought to keep on her feet, to the jeers of the sailors. Sabina tried to note as many faces as possible. They were not all Dutch, she was sure of it.

Then she saw Annika for the first time in twelve years. It was as beautiful as the first time she had seen it, towering over them on the dock, twenty hands high with three masts. It could maneuver, nimble as a dancer, and was fast. She could remember the last time she had been on deck with the ship, cutting through the waves like a dolphin.

Hendriks shoved Sabina’s shoulder and she started walking, surrounded by the brigands and murderers her uncle had sent to bring her home. They were a noisy bunch, pistols jangling into short swords and powder horns. She pulled her green cloak around her, the one that had been gifted to her not a few days earlier.

If she could focus on anything other than her kidnapping on her dead mother’s ship, she would have regretted not dressing more warmly. The wind bit through the green wool to curl around her legs, promising to pull the ship back to Dutch waters.

By the flickering torchlight and fading sunset, the docks were oddly sparse for this time of day. They must have spent much monies to keep the area clear. Annika stretched out across an entire side of a dock, bobbing gently in the foreign waters.

Sabina was swiftly ushered up the gangplank. As she readied herself to set foot on a ship for the first time in fourteen years, she slowed to look back at the docks from the deck.

It was a hopeless gesture, but Sabina could not help herself. She was alone. She was always alone.

Then she saw the horses galloping onto the dock as if they intended to board the ship itself. She recognized the lead rider.

Oh crumbs. Roland had come for her. He was here.