Devil of a Duke by Kathleen Ayers

25

Jemma was running, running across the bluff behind Sea Cliff, trying to get away from Augie. Her dress was torn, and she kept tripping over rocks in her path, lamenting as she lost her shoe. Desperate to find Nick, she called for him over and over to find her. Then Augie appeared, standing over her, grabbing her by the elbow. Terrified, she tried to push him away but her arms wouldn’t move.

“I see you are finally waking up. Goodness, I feared he'd put too much on the cloth and you were dead. That wouldn’t do us any good now would it?”

The lids of Jemma’s eyes felt as if they were weighted and her temples ached. Struggling to open her eyes, she made to rub them and found her hands firmly bound at her sides. She tried to speak but something foul tasting had been shoved into her mouth. Terror gripped her as she remembered the trail at the park. The man’s voice.

Augie.

Struggling against the ropes at her wrists, she blinked in an effort to clear her vision.

“That won’t do you any good, I’ve tied them extra tight.” A voice mocked, a voice she recognized.

Slowly, and with much effort, she opened her eyes. A dimly lit room greeted her along with a fetid odor as if there were rotting fish nearby. A lone candle sat on a small table next to what Jemma took to be a bed but more resembled a large, lumpy mattress covered by a filthy looking coverlet. Peeling wallpaper hung from one corner, though the room was too dark for her to make out the pattern. She heard the tinkling of a piano somewhere below her as a woman began singing off-key in a raspy voice. The aroma of sour wine reached her nostrils as the sound of a woman’s skirts came from behind her.

“You were so busy thinking about that man,” the wine-laden whisper said, “that you followed that boy without question. Lord, you are like a bitch in heat and stupid as well.” Lady Corbett rounded the chair in which Jemma sat.

Jemma struggled more fiercely against her bindings. My God, Lady Corbett and Augie were both in here, in London.

The Governor's wife, resplendent in a plum colored taffeta gown shot through with silver threads, looked as if she were about to attend the opera or perhaps a ball, rather than participating in abduction.

Curling her lip, Lady Corbett peered down at Jemma. “So blind to your lust for that man, I could have told you to hop a ship to the Indies and you’d do it if you thought he awaited you. George will be so distressed to find out that the Devil of Dunbar still lives. He was so very certain that he was dead.”

She paced back and forth in front of Jemma as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. The black jet earrings hanging from her ears whipped against her neck as she shook her head. “Of course, the knowledge that he failed may just give George that final fit of apoplexy. One can only hope.”

Still surprised by Lady Corbett’s appearance, Jemma tried to make sense of the woman before her. All her life, Lady Corbett had been motherly, meddling and if Jemma were honest, a bit of a dimwit. Certainly, Jemma had been hurt to know the Corbetts’ affections were less for her than for Sea Cliff, but she never suspected they were this desperate.

Jemma tried to spit the gag out of her mouth and failed.

“Oh, do stop wiggling around, Jane Emily.” Lady Corbett stopped pacing and stared at her. “You’ll wear yourself out and not have the energy for your upcoming nuptials.”

Jemma shut her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this terrible dream. She’d always considered Lady Corbett to be no more than a nuisance and Augie a weak-willed gambler who coveted her father’s estate. After what happened in Hamilton, she thought them capable of many things, but kidnapping?

“You were always so full of sass. It's unfortunate you couldn't have been more like my darling Dorthea. She did what she was told, even though it meant marrying a second son, but I had a plan for her, just as I have for you. Peter’s elder brother is consumptive and won’t last too many more winters and my Dorthea will be a Countess.” Lady Corbett placed a finger against her chin. “That will be lovely.”

The matter of fact way in which Lady Corbett spoke of her husband’s fate and that of her son-in-law’s brother chilled Jemma to the bone. How could I have known her my entire life and not suspect her true nature?

Lady Corbett continued to pace back and forth across the scarred wooden floor of the room, her fingers flying around as she spoke, whether to herself or Jemma, Jemma wasn’t sure.

“I suppose we'll have to keep you bound and gagged all the way back to Bermuda. I've already told the minister that you're simple and have fits. That you may pose a danger to yourself and others. I'm sure he won't find it surprising that you can't recite your vows. I've paid him enough not to care, at any rate."

Bermuda. My God, she means to take me to Bermuda?

Fear, the likes of which Jemma had never known, shot through her. She struggled madly, feeling the bite of the ropes into her wrists. Wet warmth seeped across her skin as blood coursed from the wounds.

Lady Corbett stopped and leaned over, her eyes wild. “Stupid, headstrong girl. I’ve told you that it’s quite useless.” Curling tendrils of faded red hair spilled about the side of Lady Corbett’s cheeks and forehead, the tiny hairs standing on end, giving her the look of an agitated bird. “All of Hamilton was quite shocked at your death. Quite shocked. None, more than Lord Corbett and myself. Why, we searched everywhere for you as did everyone on the island. What a dirty, nasty, trick you played on us. We mourned, we Corbetts.” She snickered. “But we mourned the loss of Sea Cliff even more. We were so close.” She shook her head sadly, and then she straightened, a hard look coming into her eyes. “It was Tally, wasn’t it?”

Jemma shook her head vehemently in denial.

“Don’t lie, dear. That maid of yours, Mercy? She wasn’t smart enough to assist you, nor was Mrs. Stanhope. No, it must have been Tally. He likely absconded with the account books as well. We haven’t been able to find them.”

Tally would never allow the Corbetts to force her to marry Augie. If they succeeded in taking her to Bermuda, Tally would be there.

“I see what you’re thinking, dear girl. That Mr. O’Dell will assist you again.” Her voice hardened. “But he is no longer in Hamilton. Gone and no one knows where. Possibly my husband had him killed and forgot to tell me.”

Jemma’s heart sank. She prayed with all her might that Tally was alive and safe.

“It’s of no matter, at any rate, for you will still marry my darling son. Now, I realize you’ve been behaving like a trollop, dear, but I think marriage to Augie will cure you.”

Jemma tried desperately to spit the gag out of her mouth and began to retch.

“Now stop that or you shan’t be able to breathe.” At Jemma’s continued gasping, she sighed. “You are probably thirsty.” Lady Corbett changed her demeanor to one of motherly concern. “I would prefer you be conscious for your wedding, of course, that will make it so much easier. Now, don’t you dare make a sound, or I’ll have to give you more ether.” She pointed to a small brown bottle on the table. “Though I sincerely doubt it would matter if you do scream. I can’t imagine anyone would come to your aid in this house. I’m told screams are quite common.” The gag was pulled back and a cup of tepid water was pressed to Jemma’s lips.

Jemma gulped the water greedily, ignoring the tinny taste. She took a deep breath. “No one in Hamilton will believe—”

“Oh my! Do you really assume I will let you actually speak to anyone in Bermuda?” Lady Corbett made an awful braying sound. “Really? Oh, my, no. I’ll tell them all that we found you, living in the streets here in London like a beggar when we came to visit Dorthea. Augie and I were shocked. Just shocked. You lost your mind, dear, after William died, and stowed aboard a ship bound for England. No one will question me when I lock you in your room, permanently, for your own safety of course.”

Jemma swallowed. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered. “Listen to me, if you want Sea Cliff, take it. I don’t want it.” A sob escaped her. “The estate is tainted, bought with blood money.” Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. If only she could persuade Lady Corbett to let her go. “I’ll sign it over. It will be yours.”

“But we can’t, dear. Not without you. The estate only goes to you as a dowry, otherwise it will revert to the Crown. William,” she made a clucking sound with her tongue, “made certain that no one but you would have Sea Cliff. We didn’t realize, of course, until after.”

“After what?” Jemma shook her head fiercely. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want it. I’ll write out that I want the estate to be yours. Just untie me and I’ll write out a letter,” she said eagerly. “We can go directly to the Meechum & Sons, my father’s solicitors.”

“Poor William,” Lady Corbett continued as if Jemma hadn’t spoken. “If he had just done as we asked and married you to Augie, none of this,” she threw her arms wide, “would have happened. He'd still be alive. But you decided to fuck that man. That devil.”

Jemma recoiled in shock at the foul words coming from Lady Corbett’s mouth. She’d never even heard the woman raise her voice before, much less curse.

“I came to England prepared to beg Dorthea to assist me. Possibly sell a jewel or two that Peter’s given her. George’s family is near destitute themselves and weren’t any help.” She peered at Jemma with a maniacal smile on her lips. “I can’t tell you how surprised I was to find Dunbar alive and well. I nearly choked on my tea. Thank goodness Lady Arabella was there to console me.”

“Lady Arabella?” Jemma whispered, her stomach falling.

“Oh, my yes. That dear girl was an enormous help. She does hate you so.” Lady Corbett’s eyes lit up. “So much that she couldn’t wait to tell us where your uncle lived and what hour you typically walked in the park. I explained everything to her. That you are addled and betrothed to Augie, so you couldn’t possibly marry her brother. I told her of your humble origins, what with your mother a chambermaid and all.” Lady Corbett tapped her temple. “Oh, and I may have mentioned that your father betrayed the Crown and allowed her family to shoulder the blame. Why after hearing that, Lady Arabella fairly jumped at the chance to reunite you and Augie.”

Jemma shuddered against the chair. I never expected that the Corbetts would come to London, never spared a thought that I would see them again. Foolishly I thought they would forget about me. Who would have guessed that Lady Corbett would cross paths with the one person whose hate for me matches their own?

“How,” she choked, “did you come to know Lady Arabella?”

The woman before her giggled and twirled about. “Oh, it was because of the orphans you see. Dorthea does love to take care of strays and such. I must say, I managed to keep from fainting, first after finding out that man was still alive and then you as well. My goodness, I thought I would have a fit of apoplexy just like poor George, but when I calmed myself and considered it, I realized my coming to London and finding you was God’s providence.”

Jem. That’s what my brother calls you.Only Arabella could have given the Corbetts that name, the name that only Nick used for her. How Arabella must despise her to assist the Corbetts.

“Wake up.” Lady Corbett smacked the open palm of her hand against Jemma’s cheek.

Her eyes immediately snapped open, the pain beating away the last of the fogginess from her brain. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She is insane; perhaps she's always been. How could I not see that?

“William did love his teacakes." Lady Corbett fluttered about the room discarding the previous conversation. “He couldn’t wait to eat them, the cakes I made especially for him.” She laughed maniacally, dancing a bit on her toes. “Teacakes. That's what you get when you marry a servant, a little Irish slut, instead of a lady.” Lady Corbett shrugged. “I never did care for your mother, Jane Emily. She thought too much of herself. What a relief that she died in childbirth. She loved my teacakes as well. George and I were delighted when she expired.”

What the woman implied was so evil Jemma could barely form the thought, let alone the words. Her mind refused to consider the possibility, it was so horrific that her parents’ dearest friends had not been their friends at all. She had to know. “What are you saying?”

“Haven't you been listening?” Lady Corbett fisted her hand and hit Jemma again, this time across the nose. “See what you made me do? I’ll have to tell the minister you became violent and I had to subdue you.”

Jemma saw stars for an instant before a flood of something warm and wet spurted from her nose. Her entire face ached. Drops of blood dotted the lap of her gown. “Did you kill—” She choked, the words to horrifying to say a loud.

Lady Corbett rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Well, of course I did. Haven’t you been listening? They both loved my teacakes.

* * *

The Earl of Marshslid up against the leather squabs of his carriage as the Marsh coachman took a sharp turn in his haste to reach Dunbar House. John pounded the top of his cane against the roof. “It’ll do us no good if the coach overturns in your haste.”

The coach slowed, but only slightly.

John placed one hand on the window frame and hung on for dear life as his coachman navigated the busy London streets. His stomach flip-flopped as much from the ride as from the news he had for the duke. How do you tell the Devil of Dunbar that his bride has gone missing while in your care?

The coach slowed to a halt and John fairly leapt out to land on the steps to the duke’s town home. When Jane Emily disappeared from sight at the park, they’d all assumed she’d merely wandered off the path, after all, the lass had been wandering about dreamy-eyed for the last few weeks since she and the duke had come to an understanding. Still, Jane Emily was not a silly girl, and not without skills. He knew for a fact that His Grace took her shooting often, something John did not share with his wife. Certainly, she would not be so foolish as to allow herself to be set upon and taken. But, apparently, she had.

Impatiently, he pounded on the door, worry for his niece causing him to disregard all politeness.

“Yes?” A slightly pompous, elderly butler greeted him.

John barely spared the man a glance. “I am Lord Marsh. Where is His Grace?” he said loudly into the hall. “I must speak to him immediately. It is a matter of the utmost urgency regarding my niece, Jane Emily.”

The butler’s eyes widened at hearing Jane Emily’s name. “Of course, my lord, this way.”

John followed closely behind the butler through the length of the Dunbar hallway, marveling that the older man could move so swiftly.

The butler stopped before a pair of large wooden doors from which the sound of revelry could be heard. He rapped once, and then opened the doors.

Four men lounged on several enormous, overstuffed chairs. John recognized all of them, especially his son Rowan, who sat up immediately as his father entered, a cheroot dangling from his fingers.

The duke had been telling a joke, or so it appeared from the look of laughter in the group’s eyes, but he stopped mid sentence when he saw John. Instantly, the look of amusement fled from the duke’s face, and the odd eyes narrowed dangerously. “What is it?”

John swallowed. He had forgotten how menacing His Grace could be for the duke had been kindness itself to the Marsh family since the betrothal, but the man he looked at now was not the laughing dinner guest who bantered with his niece and complimented his wife’s table. There was a reason the ton feared him.

“What is it?” The whiskey-laden voice said again.

“She’s gone,” John choked out. “Jane Emily. She’s disappeared.”

* * *

Nick thoughtfor a moment he had misheard the earl, and so he had asked the question again. He heard a buzzing noise in his ears and a sickening feeling crawled across his chest. “What?”

Lord Marsh wobbled to a free chair and sat. “We’ve looked everywhere, Your Grace.” The earl pressed a handkerchief to his brow, clearly distraught. “After visiting the dressmakers, we stopped for tea. We were in the park. She—”

“When?” Nick strived to keep his voice calm. He told himself to breathe. But that horrible darkness that had visited him when he thought Jem was dead reappeared, threatening to choke him.

“Not more than an hour or so. I’ve men still searching for her, walking through the bramble and the wood.” He shook his head. “Lord Bennett rode over to speak to Lady Marsh and myself. Jane Emily and Petra were strolling the path before us, well within our sight.” He shook his head. “Petra wished to say hello to Bennett and left her cousin on the path. Jane Emily was following a trail of peonies. The park was full of people.” His hands twisted over his cane. “We looked away only for an instant. Only an instant.” His voice broke. “Why would anyone take Jane Emily?”

Rowan stood and walked over to stand behind his father, laying his hand on Lord Marsh’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort the older man. “Your Grace—” Rowan started.

Nick forced himself to breathe. The tips of his fingers went cold and his heart beat erratically. Bits of conversations ran through his mind at lightening speed, one in particular standing out. A conversation he should have paid closer attention to, but she’d made him so angry.

“Peabody.”

The butler immediately stood at attention. “Your Grace, what do you require?”

“My sister. Has she returned?” Nick’s body was taut. Arabella. Every instinct screamed aloud that his sister had something to do with Jem's disappearance.

“Yes, Your Grace. I believe she and Lady Miranda arrived home a short time ago. They are in the drawing room with several dozen boxes of hats. A moment.” Peabody whirled and disappeared, moving with unusual speed for a man so old.

Lord Marsh looked to Nick, anxiety etched across his features. “You must find her. Please,” he implored. “She is all I have left of my brother. I love her as if she were my own.”

“Yes, Your Grace?” Arabella came through the doorway and gave her brother an impudent lift of her chin in response to his summons. She calmly clasped her hands before her and waited.

Miranda followed, a question on her lovely face. She nodded briefly to her brother and Rowan, hesitating for a moment at the sight of Colin.

Nick watched Arabella closely—she looked a bit smug and exceedingly proud of herself. He doubted it was over a stylish new hat she’d bought.

“What has happened, Your Grace?” Arabella clasped her hands tighter, but her face remained bland, her tone a polite inquiry.

“My cousin has gone missing,” Rowan said roughly. “She has disappeared.”

Arabella’s right hand twitched and she quickly hid it in her skirts.

Nick saw the slight movement. That’s when he knew.

“I beg you all, leave us,” he hissed, barely able to stop himself from rushing towards Arabella and shaking her.

Colin stood, his eyes on Nick but only nodded his head. “We’ll wait in the drawing room.” He made his way over to Miranda, hesitated, then took her elbow.

“Whatever you need.” Cam squeezed his shoulder.

Lord Marsh stood and allowed Rowan to lead him to the door.

A flicker of fear crossed his sister’s features as the group exited the room, but then she composed herself. “Has Jane Emily finally run off?” She smiled sweetly, ignoring the outraged gasp of Rowan who had not quite cleared the room. “I did warn you Nick.”

“I saw her just this morning.” Nick kept his eyes on Arabella. “I know we aren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding, but I snuck into the garden. She said she had a surprise for me.” He saw Rowan move back into the room out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, she most certainly did, brother.” Arabella shot him a look of concern, but there was something else in her gaze. Triumph. “Though I’m not surprised in the least that she’s left you.”

“Leave?” Rowan sputtered, looking at Arabella with disdain. “How dare you. My cousin would never do such a thing.”

“Of course, you would defend her,” Arabella hissed. “Lord knows, your family is nothing if not honorable.”

Nick felt the blood leave his face. “Rowan, shut the door.” How horrible it was to watch someone you loved betray you for his or her own ends. How had Bella found out? How could she possibly know?

“What have you done?” Nick said to Arabella before turning to Rowan. “Stay. Sit. If only to keep me from throttling my sister.”

Settling into a nearby chair, Rowan regarded Nick with confusion. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

A vein pulsed in Arabella’s temple as her hands fluttered out and landed on the top of a paisley patterned sofa. She wavered a bit, hearing the ferocity of his tone but stood firm.

Nick set his glass down on the table before him and stood to face his sister.

She lifted her head bravely, but after one look at Nick’s face, her gaze fell to her hands and she clung to the back of the sofa.

“She is a charlatan,” his sister said under her breath, the tremor in her voice apparent. “She has played you false.”

“Liar.” Rowan nearly jumped out of his chair, but Nick’s raised hand stayed him.

“I never told you, Bella,” he said softly, “that Jem had a suitor in Bermuda. Earlier today, when we argued, you mentioned such, and you made reference to Jem’s mother, which I also never told you about. Then there is the matter of our family’s honor. I believe you called my intended’s father a traitor.”

Rowan made a gasp of surprise. “What are you talking about?” His voice shook. “Why would you say such a—” His mouth shut tightly as he looked at Nick expectantly.

Arabella had gone deathly pale. Her lips parted slightly as she watched him approach her. She blinked, her pupils dilated with fear, no longer triumphant.

“Tell me, sister, how you came to learn those things about my future wife.” He kept his tone intentionally light, hoping he would not shake his beloved sister to death in front of Rowan. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Arabella's voice shook and her eyes welled with tears. “I’ve set things to right, that’s all I’ve done. She was already promised to another man, Nick. And after what that family,” she said, pointing at Rowan, “has done to ours, I cannot even countenance your desire to marry her. She is unworthy of your affections.”

Rowan rose, about to defend the Marsh family when Nick turned on him violently. “Sit.”

Rowan nodded and sat. His fingers clutched at the arms of the chair. The look in his eyes as he watched Arabella was murderous.

“She told me everything. All the things you kept from me, brother.” Arabella’s voice shook. “She just wanted to return Jane Emily to her proper place, her home, with the man she is promised to. I did this for you, to keep you from making a terrible mistake.” Arabella’s chest heaved with emotion. “That you will regret.”

“You thought to make this choice for me? You have no idea what you have done.” He thundered at her and lurched forward.

Arabella cowered before him, her hands shielding her face as if Nick would strike her. “I only wanted to save you from making a mistake,” she said, arguing back. “I do not mean her to come to harm.”

“You meant nothing but harm.” His heart beat wildly in his chest.

“I saw them,” Rowan said quietly from his spot in the chair, looking directly at Arabella. “And I saw you. I wondered why you behaved so oddly.”

Arabella shook her head wildly. “You know nothing. Preposterous.”

“Where?” Nick turned to Rowan so fiercely his friend shrank back in into the chair. The Corbetts. It had to be. There was no one else in all the world who wished Jem harm.

“On Bond Street.” Rowan sat up. “A little over a week ago. A woman with faded red hair and a slender gentleman, much younger, with brown hair.” He looked at Nick. “Who are they?”

“The reason your cousin fled Bermuda,” Nick hissed, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice as he turned to Arabella. “I cannot bear the sight of you. If anything happens to Jem, anything, you will spend the rest of your days at Twinings where you can wallow in your bitterness till your heart’s content. Do you hear me, Arabella?” He was yelling now and didn’t care who heard him. Arabella had given Jem over to the Corbetts. Nick thought quickly, for every moment would count.

Bermuda. They would try to take her to Bermuda so they could claim that damned estate.

“Get from my sight!” He bellowed at his sister.

The door to the study burst open to reveal Cam, Colin and Miranda, with Peabody hovering in the background. They’d been listening at the door and doubtless heard every word that was said.

Nick never looked away from his sister, whose face had collapsed into sheer terror as tears ran down her cheeks. “Cam, please take my sister to your home and keep her there until arrangements can be made for her immediate departure to Wales. She will be leaving London.”

“Nick.” Arabella sobbed. “Please. I beg you.”

“If any harm has come to Jem, sister, your banishment will be permanent.” He turned away, unable to bear the sight of his sister for one more moment. His heart ached with misery over her deceit.

“I’m sorry. Please—” Arabella wailed. She tried to pluck at his coat sleeves. “Don’t send me away.”

“Get her from my sight,” he growled over his shoulder. “I wish her far away from me.”

Miranda stepped forward and Arabella immediately turned to hide her face in her friend's shoulder. “Come, Bella. You're to come home with me until things are sorted out with Jemma. We’ll send for your things.” She wrapped her arm about Arabella’s shaking shoulders. “I’ll take care of her, Your Grace,” Miranda murmured as she led Arabella away.

Cam gave him a stricken look. “Are you sure, Nick?” He shot a look through the doorway where the sounds of Arabella’s sobbing could still be heard. “Wales?”

“I trust you to make the arrangements, Cam. And I trust,” he nodded to the doors, “in your and Miranda’s utmost discretion.”

“Of course.” Worry furrowed his friend’s brow.

His mind was racing over where the Corbetts could have taken Jem. He had underestimated them and their lust for Sea Cliff, yet again. Nick’s solicitor, Hotchkins had finally left Bermuda several months ago, after buying up all of Augie Corbett’s markers and calling them due, effectively bankrupting the family. After that, Lord Corbett’s health had failed, and Nick thought the Corbetts would fade into the past. He’d not considered Lady Corbett a threat, but apparently her greed for Sea Cliff and its wealth was equal to Lord Corbett’s. Happy, for the first time in his life, he’d let his guard down and that viper and her son were in London.

“My father knows, doesn’t he?” Rowan looked as if he’d been punched. “About Jemma. About the treason.”

“Yes.” He clasped his friend on the shoulder to stop him from peppering him with questions. “Not now. Later. I promise.”

Rowan nodded. “We must find her.”

“If they mean to take her back to Bermuda, they’ll need a ship,” Colin surmised.

Nick nodded in agreement. “Lady Corbett and her son must know I would come for her, which means leaving England immediately for Bermuda. I doubt they’d try for another port, neither of them know England well enough.” He thought rapidly. “Cam, please send someone to Yorkshire to watch the household of Dorthea Jennings, just in case they try to go there. And Augustus Corbett is a gambler, perhaps someone has played cards or diced with him during his visit.”

Cam nodded. “I’ll check the usual establishments myself. Should I find anything, I’ll send word here.” He turned swiftly, shouting commands to Peabody to bring several young boys from the stables and scullery to serve as messengers.

“Thank you.” Nick braced himself for the worst. Would Augie try to marry her here or wait until they were aboard ship? If Corbett touched Jem, Nick would tear the man apart with his bare hands.

Colin poured a whisky and pushed it into Nick’s hand. “How many of the ships sitting at the wharf are yours, and how many are bound to New York or Bermuda? There can only be a handful that are due to leave this time of year.” He motioned to the glass of whisky. “Drink up, man. We'll find her.”

Nick downed the glass in two swallows, allowing the warmth of the whisky to fill him before speaking. “There are only three and two of them are mine. I doubt Corbett and his mother have any idea that I own a fleet of ships, let alone that they’ve likely booked passage on one.”

“Won’t they be surprised, then?” Colin nodded grimly, gripping a cheroot, between his teeth and putting a match to it. “I’ll have the carriage brought round.” Colin reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a wicked looking knife and shot Rowan a look. “You’ve a weapon, Malden?”

Rowan’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the knife. “No.” He nodded towards the blade. “You carry that around with you?”

“I’m Irish. Or at least partially. We’re a suspicious lot.” He shrugged and pushed the knife back inside the pocket of his coat. “Besides, London is a dangerous place.”

Nick drew a large knife and two pistols from his desk drawer. He slid the knife into his boot and held one pistol out to Rowan. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Rowan took the pistol, his face hard. “I expect you will tell me the particulars regarding treason and kidnapping on our way to the wharf.”

Nick nodded and strode through the open study door, Colin and Rowan on his heels. “I’ll tell you everything, once Jem is safe.”