Then he walked back towards the wharf, wondering what the hell he was going to do with her.
His plan for what came after he’d reached the ship was sketchy at best. In his head were two priorities – stop Reinhardt from taking Mercy onboard theWestern Starand if all else failed, kill the bastard. It certainly hadn’t included looking after the Reverend’s diminutive terrier.
Or agonising over where her bacon-brained owner might be.
***
Christian Stanhope was finally reaching the end of his tether. The four men had found the warehouse easily enough and had spent the last hour visiting every lodging house within a halfmile radius. Despite showing the drawing of Reinhardt’s face to every person they met, no one recognised him and none of the proprietors they spoke to had had any American guests lodging at all.
In the end, they had to accept they’d got it wrong.
Finally, in desperation, Christian asked a Quayside worker if there was anywhere else spices were stored. The man had scratched his head and frowned. ‘I reckon it depends what spices you’re lookin’ fer yer ludship.’
‘Cloves,’ Adam interjected promptly.
The man thought for a second. ‘I reckon there might be a shed wi’ a small stash o’ cloves back that way.’ He tilted his head in the direction of the Eastern Dock. ‘Belongs to some toff – couldn’t tell you who though.’ He paused then added, ‘I reckon it’s near to theSail Loftlodging house. Can’t say I’d fancy stayin’ there meself, the place is allus full o’ bloody ‘mericans.’
***
The only thing Reinhardt could see through the filthy window was a small boy running backwards and forwards, yelling at the top of his voice. Of who, or what was about tomurderhim, there was no sign. There was also no sign of either of his accomplices. The American narrowed his eyes. Something didn’t fit.
Turning back into the room, he strode over to Percy. ‘Who the devil are you?’ he ground out, grabbing the curate’s arm and shaking it.
‘I… I don’t know what you mean,’ Percy stammered, glancing wildly towards Mercy who was still sitting paralysed in the chair.
Reinhardt brought up the hand holding the pistol, pointing it directly at the curate’s face. ‘One more lie,’ he snarled. ‘Just one more…’
‘He’s my grandfather’s curate,’ Mercy blurted out.
Without relinquishing his grip on Percy’s arm, Reinhardt looked over at her. ‘Your grandfather’s the priest who was with you in the inn?’ Mercy nodded.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Gone to fetch reinforcements, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him,’ Percy declared in a sudden show of defiance.
The anger in the American’s face as he digested the curate’s words was terrifying. For a few seconds he didn’t move. When he finally spoke, however, his voice was eerily calm. ‘You can marry us.’ It wasn’t a question.
Percy shook his head. ‘You need witnesses,’ he whispered. Reinhardt stared at him for a second, then shoved him away so violently, the curate fell to the floor.
Still gripping his pistol, the American abruptly began pacing the room. He didn’t know where Davy and Smith were, but in truth they’d become a liability. If the bitch’s words were true, he needed to get out of this room before the priest returned with help. That wasn’t a problem - everything he needed was already on board theWestern Star. Provided he married Mercy before her father got here, there was nothing the bastard could do. He had all the witnesses he needed on board the ship and he’d paid the captain enough to turn a blind eye to any pleading the chit might do.
‘Stand up,’ he ordered them both coldly. With the pistol pointing directly at them, neither Percy nor Mercedes dared show any defiance. ‘We’re going downstairs and if either of you so much as speaks, so help me I’ll put a bullet in the curate’s head.’
As they headed towards the stairs, Percy prayed that Finn had already scarpered. He had no idea where the Reverend mightbe but could only hope his superior had one last card up his sleeve, though he was well aware that a frying pan was no match for a gun. Mercy had said nothing, but her chest rose and fell unevenly, revealing her terror. ‘You first,’ Reinhardt barked at her when they reached the top of the stairs. Percy gave her a gentle push when she hesitated, and picking up her skirts, she finally started down.
***
Once both Reinhardt’s accomplices were out of the way, Reverend Shackleford knew that even if Percy was forced to continue with the ceremony, the marriage wouldn’t stand up in a court of law.
Still on his chair, the clergyman looked down at the American’s two co-conspirators. With a bit of luck, they’d be unconscious for hours yet. He only hoped the real deuced priest didn’t pop up anytime soon. Finn had stopped shouting and was now looking at him wide eyed, waiting for the next part of the plan. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. In truth, the Reverend hadn’t thought beyond getting rid of Reinhardt’s cohorts. But at the end of the day, there was only one thing for it. He needed to go up those stairs.
Reluctantly he climbed down from the chair, and making sure he stayed under the eaves and out of sight of the window, he gave Finn a thumbs up sign. The only person Reinhardt would have seen had he looked, was the boy. Hopefully as yet the American had no idea what had happened to his accomplices.
Beckoning Finn over, the Reverend gripped the frying pan in both hands, grimacing at its weight. There was no doubt about it - it was feeling significantly heavier than it did half an hour ago. Likely one of the two unconscious men would have a weapon,but the clergyman knew very well that even if he took it, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to use it. The last time he’d hesitated, his son-in-law, Jago, almost lost his life. No, the frying pan would have to do.
Squaring his shoulders, he looked at Finn, then nodded towards the door latch. ‘On three, lift it and push,’ he whispered. ‘Then step back and get yourself out of sight.’ The lad nodded, reaching out for the metal latch.
Flexing his shoulders and making sure he had the pan in a secure grip, Reverend Shackleford was finally ready. ‘One, two,three.’ The door crashed inwards and after the smallest hesitation, Reverend Shackleford rushed inside – only to look up at the shocked face of his granddaughter halfway up the stairs.
