This was more than a government assignment to him, guessed Charlotte. It was intensely personal. She found herself liking him better for it.
“And yet once again, the devil-cursed scoundrel is going to slip away unscathed.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,”responded Wrexford, after a moment of grim silence. “You would be right—save for the fact that we have our band of filthy little wharf rats. Distasteful as you may find them, they will soon have you eating your disparaging comments.”
“I will do so happily,” said Daggett. “But how—”
“Never mind that now. We need to return to Nereid and Neptune’s office as quickly as possible.”
The earl crouched down so he was on eye level with Hawk. “I need you to gather up as many of your friends as you can in the next quarter hour and bring them to the cellar beneath the office. Use the fishmonger’s alleyway.”
“Oiy, sir!” Wrexford’s small shove set him into motion, and in the next instant, the boy disappeared into the maze of the wharves.
“Stealth is no longer a priority,” announced the earl. “We can take the quickest route back to our destination.”
In short order, they were climbing up the steps of the shipping company run by their friends.
“Good day”—Octavia Howe hesitated for just a fraction—“milord.” To her credit, she made no comment on Wrexford’s shabby clothes, but merely shifted the pile of folders in her arms and pointed to the main meeting room. “If you’re looking for—”
The closed door flew open and Raven peered out. “Wrexford! On our way back, Strings told us the ship has left the tidal basin and headed upstream. Is it true?”
“Aye,” answered the earl, “and we’ve discovered some even more disturbing news.” Seeing Sheffield and Lady Cordelia had come to stand behind the boy, he added, “Let us join you inside and I shall explain.”
Charlotte hesitated. Wrexford entered the room without a glance her way, a tacit sign that he was leaving the decision up to her. Heaving an inward sigh, she turned away and slipped down the back stairs.
Ooooff.The stench of piss and rotting fish was truly foul. “If I wish to live the life of a lady, perfumed in privilege,” she muttered to herself, “the choice is mine.”
She rooted around in the darkness and found a lantern. A quick strike of the flint and steel she carried in her urchin-coat pocket lit an oily flame. After checking that the door to the alleyway was unbarred—opening it wouldn’t improve the air, as outside was even more odiferous—she sat down on a cask of nails to wait for Hawk and his friends.
The plan to use the urchins was an excellent one. They would act like stones falling on still water, spreading quick-moving ripples throughout the docklands.
A muted jingle of metal drew her gaze to the stairs. Raven hurried down the last few treads and came to join her.
“Wrexford has given me permission to help spread the word,” he said, perching himself on the cask next to hers. “I’ll take the south side of the river. Strings is bringing a few of his friends to join me.”
It was a race against time, and the clock wasn’t ticking in their favor. But he knew that. They all did.
The clink of metal on metal sounded again as Raven eased a leather pouch out of his pocket. “His Lordship borrowed all the guineas that Mr. Sheffield and Lady Cordelia had in their safe. Hawk and I are to hand one out to each of our friends, for them to show as proof that the promise of a fifty-guinea reward to whoever discovers the location of the ship is no faradiddle.”
The boy undid the strings, allowing a tiny spark of fire-kissed gold to glimmer in the gloom. “He says that unless Satan has opened up a great hole in the Earth, allowing the ship to take refuge in the deepest pit of hell, we’ll find it in time.”
Charlotte didn’t disagree. Fifty guineas was an unimaginable fortune to those who lived around the river. Raven’s voice, however, held a note of raw uncertainty.
“Wrexford is right,” she said. “They haven’t a prayer of eluding us.”
He nodded. But by the way he was winding the strings tightly around his thumb, she could tell that something else was troubling him. Reaching out, she gently eased off the loops and twined her fingers with his.
The boy held himself rigid for a moment, and then, in a very un-Raven-like gesture, inched closer and leaned his head against her shoulder.
“Wrexford is angry with Tyler. He says that Tyler was a damn fool for being so reckless.”
“He’s not angry, sweeting. He’s frightened.” She drew him into a hug and didn’t let go. “We all are. Tyler has become very dear to us.”
A tremor—a silent sob?—spasmed through his bony body.
Love.What a change it had wrought in all of them.
When she and the boys had first met, the struggle for survival had been the primary force in their lives. She certainly hadn’t been looking for love. She knew its dangers—and yet, it had happened, anyway. That achingly beautiful complexity that took hold of one’s heart and wouldn’t let go.
