“Because of her. Because she was taken hostage and God knows what she suffered at their hands before she died.”
Isaac remained silent for a long moment while Christian stewed before pressing his fingers together. “Chris, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you tread a fine line between duty and following your father’s footsteps.”
Christian blew out his breath. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
Isaac cleared his throat. “The real question is, are you really willing to send a woman to the noose?”
“Women have hanged for far lesser crimes.”
“At your order?”
Isaac’s soft words broke Christian’s fragile hold on his control.
He spun around. “What exactly are you suggesting? That I let her go? That I ignore her crimes because she’s female? If that’s the stance you’re going to take, I swear, I will relieve you of your duties right here and now. You can go back to Washington. Find yourself a new mission.”
Isaac raised both his hands. “You know I’ll follow your orders.”
“Then help me find her.”
Christian pressed his fingers to his brow. Isaac had been his friend since they were boys. He’d been the brother Christian had always wished for. They’d gone to boarding school together and later attended Columbia. It hardly surprised anyone when they enlisted in the navy after graduating.
“Put out a reward. Someone around here has to have heard of her.”
Isaac bowed his head and left Christian alone in the room. His gaze flitted to the empty spot on his desk. Where his compass should be. Hands clenched, he sat down. His great grandfather had received it when he served in the Royal Navy and the instrument had been passed down to each generation.
His father had given it to him the day he’d sailed away to take revenge on the pirates responsible for his wife’s death, never to return. Told him to keep it safe.
Now, a blasted pirate had it.
He hadn’t been jesting earlier. If the governor told him to back off, he would hire privateers to hunt her.
She could run. She could hide.
But he would find her.
He stared at the map and the little red “X” he’d marked off the coast of Florida. If she tried to sail that route again, one of his men would see her. Jerking the knife free, he traced the point up and down the coast. The question was, which way from that mark did her lair lie?
North would be best. He’d sent men to investigate well-known hideouts from Brunswick all the way up to Charleston. But he’d visited many of those cities himself in the last few months. Surely, he would have noticed a saucy flame-haired wench.
Another fiery-haired beauty crossed his mind and he cursed.
He’d offended Miss Warstein last night. And keeping on her uncle’s good side was vital. The merchant had more ships out on the water than anyone else, and making an enemy of him would upset the governor. Dropping his blade, Christian pressed his fingers together.
Time to pay a well past due social call.
Outside, the sun beat down on him while he waited for his horse to be tacked. Once mounted, he kicked the bay gelding into a trot. The Warstein estate lay less than a mile from his manor and he frowned.He should have called on Henry Warstein months ago, when he’d first moved to Savannah. Gaining the merchant’s eyes and ears would be a huge asset to his mission.
When he rode up the drive, he nodded his appreciation for the well-maintained grounds. Large oak trees leaned over him and the stately white manor commanded one’s attention. A footman rushed forward before Christian pulled his horse to a stop. His boots crunched into the dirt and he tugged at his cravat as sweat dampened his skin. The buzz of cicadas filled the air and he yearned for the slap of waves against a hull.
The butler opened the door at his first knock. A responsive and alert staff. Which reminded him, about time to hire on his own butler. Being at sea so much over the last few months had pushed it to the back of his to-do list.
“Lieutenant Thompson, calling on Mr. Warstein.”
With a nod, the butler turned. “Of course. Right this way.”
The oppressive heat followed them inside and Christian scowled. No sense staying ashore in this weather. He’d make sure to be back on a ship before the week’s end. His boots clicked against marble and he glanced up the sweeping mahogany staircase before following the butler into the drawing room.
“If you take a seat, Mr. Warstein will join you momentarily.”
