The Viscount felt the sweat gather in the small of his back. He had to get out. He still had no clue as to why he’d been sent here but whatever patience the Captain had was very obviously wearing thin. And not every Spaniard was happy with the current British interference.
Gabriel stood abruptly and gave a small bow, resisting the urge to wipe the beads of sweat now trickling into his eyes. ‘It appears I have made an error,’ he offered politely, hoping the hoarseness in his voice was attributed to the heat and dust. ‘Forgive me for wasting your time signor.’ Every sense Gabriel had was screaming at him to run.
After a pause that seemed to last forever, the Captain rose from his chair and inclined his head in turn. Trying not to show his relief, Gabriel took the action as a dismissal. With another polite nod he turned and strode from the room, shutting the door behind him. Then quickly lengthening his strides, the Viscount urgently sought the quickest way out of the Castilla, the back of his neck prickling with an overwhelming awareness of his vulnerability.
He almost expected to be arrested, or worse, feel a bullet in his back, but he found his way outunmolested. Without pausing, he strode along the edge of the plaza and swiftly made his way back into the narrow alleyways of the old city, walking randomly until he was sure there was no chance he was being followed. Finally, he stopped and leaning gratefully against the cool stone, closed his eyes and exhaled with relief.
However, his mind would not allow him much of a respite and after a few minutes he began replaying the events of the last two weeks in his head. What the devil was going on? The orders provided by his uncle were sketchy at best, totally unlike the usual instructions given to him at the start of a mission. The vague directives gave him absolutely no insight into why he’d been sent to southern Spain.
What to do now? He sensed he was running out of time. Should he simply return to the Seahorse? Clearly that was what he was expected to do.
Or was he?
Gabriel felt his heart begin to beat erratically as his sense of danger overwhelmed him. He’d been sent to see a captain who didn’t exist which meant he’d been played for a fool. But who would go to such lengths if their only purpose was to make him look beef-witted?
Unless it wasn’t. Unless whoever it was simply wanted him out of the way. Permanently.
And there were only two people who would benefit from his demise.
Admiral Benjamin Atwood and his son Henry.
Chapter Six
Gabriel felt sick. He had no illusions about his cousin. Henry hated him, always had. But had he misjudged his uncle? There were many who believed Benjamin Atwood should have inherited the Northwood title. Was the Admiral among them? He’d never given Gabriel any reason to think so.
But no, it was ridiculous to suppose his uncle had gone to such lengths just to be rid of him. There were far easier ways to dispose of an unwanted relative.
But then the demise of Viscount Northwood whilst in the service of King and Country would undoubtedly silence any gossip.
That’s if in truth he was in the service of King and Country.
Gabriel’s mind went round and round until he felt like planting someone a facer. He had no answers, but until he did, he realised he dared not step foot back aboard the Seahorse.
Gabriel ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He couldn’t believe he was even contemplating the possibility that his cousin was a cold-blooded killer. But if Henry’s plan was to see him dead, was there a chance that the Admiral was unaware?
The Viscount had always believed his uncle held him in affection. Indeed, they were extremely close during Gabriel’s formative years, when he’d viewed his uncle with nothing but admiration. However, it was difficult to argue the fact that the Admiral had clearly sent him on a fool’s errand. Sighing, Gabriel picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Somehow, he had to leave the city without Henry knowing.
By now the treacherous little weasel would expect him to realise he’d been duped. How long before he came looking? Or would he simply wait for Gabriel to return to challenge him onboard his ship? The Viscount had no way of knowing and it was clearly a waste of time to try and second guess. Somehow, he had to find passage off the Isla de Leon without being spotted by any of the Seahorse’s crew. Not an easy task he knew. He could only hope that Henry was not actually expecting him to run and indeed, there was nowhere to run to. For a second Gabriel paused.
Was he being foolish? Seeing shadows and conspiracies where there were none? If he ran now, his only option would be to try and make it to British secured Portugal and purchase passage home from there. But with the French marching inexorably south, it would not be an easy journey. And what the bloody hell would he say when he returned home? Was he taking a coward’s way out? He had no proof that his closest relatives wanted his blood, just his gut and on the surface of it, a simple mistaken identity. And while his gut had never let him down before, he could not just accuse either his uncle or his cousin of bringing him so far simply to have him murdered. He would be a laughingstock at the very least. At worst, he might end up being committed. He had no illusions about the Admiral’s connections.
Gabriel shook his head with a sigh and stood irresolute for valuable moments. Moments that could well cost him his life if his suspicions were true.
‘I’ve been looking for you cousin.’ The familiar voice sounded behind him.
Slowly Gabriel turned to regard his grinning relative and knew he’d run out of time.
‘I was just breaking my fast before returning to the ship,’ he responded evenly.
‘I see no breakfast in your hand,’ answered Henry, the smirk still on his face. Gabriel gritted his teeth and pulled out the cloth in which his pastry had been wrapped. ‘You’re welcome to the crumbs if you’re hungry,’ he mocked, holding out the package.
Henry’s eyes narrowed, sensing the insult behind Gabriel’s words but in the end all he said was, ‘If you must eat in the street like a vagrant, you will forgive me for not joining you.’ Gabriel shrugged and tucked the cloth back into his breeches, enjoying his cousin’s ill-concealed annoyance.
However, Henry’s next words put an end to his pettiness. ‘Given that it’s obvious you’ve finished, I suggest we return to the Seahorse together.’ Gabriel felt his heart plummet.
‘I'm not actually ready to return onboard,’ he countered casually. ‘I was thinking to find a public baths to wash off the brine and dust.’
'I will arrange for a bath to be filled in your cabin,’ was the disdainful response. ‘I wouldn’t want your lordship to… horror of horrors… smell.’
