“She said no?”
“She said I was more fun unmarried.” Barrington set down the pen. “Until this last time. I knew the minute I looked into her eyes that she would say yes.”
Alex let out a low breath, not quite a laugh. “He’ll be unbearable when you tell him.”
“Delirious with triumph,” Barrington agreed. “He’ll probably demand a seat at the planning table. He already gave Honoria a list of people for the wedding.”
Alex gave a half smile but didn’t respond. He rose, crossed to the fire, and stood watching the flames.
“You’re thinking of Georgina,” Barrington said.
Alex didn’t deny it. “She’s in it now. No more questions. No more hesitations. She’s too clever not to see what this is becoming.”
Barrington added another log to the fire and settled back into his chair. “There was a man I knew once, Lieutenant Wade. Clever as anything. Saw subversiveness where none of us did, except one time, and then it was too late. He trusted a supplier we shouldn’t have. Costtwenty men their lives.”
Alex looked toward the flames, jaw tight. “We won’t let that happen here.”
“No,” Barrington said. “Because we have Georgina Ravenstock. And we won’t let her carry the burden alone.”
“And we make damn sure she never stands alone.”
The two settled into quiet contemplation.
The door creaked open not long after, and Georgina stepped in without knocking, the folio under her arm.
Kenworth brought tea and vanished, leaving behind a neatly folded note beside the pot.
If you’re planning treason, sirs, at least let me iron my coat first.
Alex smirked and handed it to Barrington, who shook his head and tucked it into his pocket.
“You’re not sleeping,” Alex said.
“Neither are you,” she replied. “I couldn’t rest until I was certain we hadn’t missed something.” She set the folio on the desk and opened it. “I went through everything again, this time tracing the pattern from the invoices forward instead of backward. Rowland had marked several entries twice. The same date and phrase were used, with delivery scheduled for offshore cargo, but no location was listed. It’s repeated in two different hands. One looks like Rowland’s. The other, I can’t identify.”
“Different slope, different rhythm,” she said. “Rowland wrote decisively. This… this looks like it was added in haste. Or in secrecy.”
Barrington joined them, studying the page. “That’s not local delivery language. That’s shipping.”
“I agree. What struck me was that there’s no port listed,” Georgina said. “Nor a recipient. Just a mark and an abbreviation.R.T.S.”
Alex leaned in, tracing the edge of the ink with one finger. “Then we need the port records. Sommer-by-the-Sea’s dockmaster logs. Thatwill tell us what ships came in, which ones left, and what the cargo they carried.”
Barrington gave a thoughtful nod. “Or we contact Mr. Seaton. He was nearly killed for uncovering false freight entries. The Order wanted his daughter married to their puppet so they could control the entire Seaton fleet.”
“Didn’t they hold Viscount Hollingsworth in prison to keep him out of the way?” Georgina asked.
“Three years,” Barrington said. “The marriage plans failed, thanks to Seaton’s stubbornness, his daughter’s spine, and the viscount’s determination.”
“Is Seaton still at the docks?”
“In Portsmouth now,” Barrington replied. “But he’ll help us. If those shipments were bound for a port he’s touched, he’ll know what to look for.”
She looked back at the folio. “And he might recognizeR.T.S.”
“If it’s a route or a code, yes,” Barrington said. “We’ll send him word tonight.”
“If they’re shipping stolen coal, it won’t be in plain sight.” Barrington looked at both of them. “But the gaps will be there. You don’t move that much weight without someone noticing.”
