Gordon had heard of Harding. He was extremely wealthy and had a great deal of political influence. A man who expected results.
He shook his head. “I don’t think I should accept this commission. If the widow has been out of touch with her family, the address might be wrong. Even if I can find her quickly, she might not want to return to England if she’s estranged. Sir Andrew should save his money. He and his wife are unlikely to achieve what they want.”
“Quite possibly not,” Kirkland said quietly. “But sometimes, people need to dosomethingbecause it’s unbearable to do nothing.”
Gordon understood that impulse to action. His brow furrowed as he considered. Though he’d wanted some excitement, hurling himself headfirst into a war zone on what was likely a wild goose chase was rather more than he’d bargained for. But he’d been feeling restless, and there was some chance that he might be able to rescue the damsel in distress. Assuming a widow qualified as a damsel and she wanted to be rescued.
“I would need to go in prepared to be either British or American,” he said, thinking out loud. “If I end up dealing with the Royal Navy or the British Army, it would help if I had letters of introduction from high level men in the government. You know the sort of thing. ‘This is Lord George Audley, give him anything he asks for.’ ”
Kirkland chuckled. “I can’t produce anything quite so sweeping, but I can certainly give letters that will gain you some consideration. What about transportation?”
“If I do this, I’ll need to charter a ship willing to go into a battle zone, and that will be expensive. Preferably a ship that has sailed the Chesapeake Bay.”
“Understood. You’ll have all the funds you need. I can provide a ship, but I’m not sure I have sailors experienced in those waters.”
“This is going to be a very pricey exercise in futility,” Gordon said wryly. “The ship will need to appear nondescript, but be fast, well armed, and willing to fly flags of different nations if required. I might know a vessel that would be suitable if the captain is available and willing. If he isn’t, it will be up to you.”
“It sounds like you’ve decided to accept this commission,” Kirkland observed, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“Apparently I have,” Gordon agreed. “What’s the woman’s name and address?”
Kirkland handed over a paper with a name and address written on it. “Interestingly, her married name is Audley, like yours. Do you have any American relatives named Matthias Audley?”
Gordon shrugged. “There may be a connection, but Audley isn’t an uncommon name. I doubt if sharing the same name will weigh with the widow if she’s reluctant to return to England.” He got to his feet. “Now to see if the ship and captain I have in mind are in London, willing, and able.”
“Do what you think best, Gordon.” Kirkland also stood and drew a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket. “Here’s a bank draft toward expenses. I’ll collect the authorization letters and send them to your house. If you need anything else, just ask.”
Gordon whistled at the size of the bank draft. “They really want her back safely!”
“Yes, and if she won’t come, the family wants to insure that she has what she needs to live comfortably.”
“If she’s impoverished, she might be more willing to come with me. Here’s hoping she’s eager to return home and all goes smoothly.”
“That seldom happens,” Kirkland murmured. “Which is why I thought of you.”
Gordon grinned. “I’ll take that as a vote of confidence in my shifty skills.”
“Exactly so.” Kirkland offered his hand. “Let me know if you need anything. Good luck and Godspeed.”
As Gordon shook the other man’s hand, he felt a prickle at the base of his neck, and a conviction that he was going to need all the luck he could get.
* * *
The waterfront tavern was patronized by the better grade of local merchants, ship chandlers, and sailors. Gordon scanned the room, wondering if he’d recognize the man he was here to meet.
He’d first met Hawkins in a prison cellar in Portugal, where they were two of five men condemned to be executed in the morning. They’d worked together through a long night to escape, and the five had made a wry pact to keep in touch through Hatchards bookstore in London, sending letters to the notice of the “Rogues Redeemed.”
Though occasional missives at the bookstore had given Gordon some idea of what Hawkins had been doing, they’d not met face to face since that night in Porto. Ah, there, in a booth built along the left-hand wall. The man sitting there raised his tankard in greeting, so Gordon wove his way across the room.
As he approached the table, Hawkins rose and offered a hand. Brown-haired and broadly built, he had the weathered complexion of a man who was much out of doors. “Gordon,” he said in a deep voice. “Good to see you after all these years.”
As they shook hands, Gordon said, “Full years for both of us, I imagine.” He slid onto the bench opposite the other man. “Your voice is different than I remember.”
Hawkins chuckled. “On the night we met, I was suffering from a slight case of being hanged. It took time for my voice to recover.” He signaled a barmaid to bring over a drink for Gordon.
“You’re lively for a hanged man,” Gordon said. “There must be a story there.”
“A tale for another day,” Hawkins said with a dismissive gesture. “Have you any news of other members of our little brotherhood of Rogues Redeemed?”
