“Who, I take it, suffered at the hands of Reginald Lyman.”
His jaw tightened. “You have an unnerving ability to read people, Lady Charlotte. I imagine that’s a trait that might get you into trouble.”
“Indeed,” replied Charlotte. “More times than I can count.”
His expression turned oddly pensive. “I thought ladies weren’t supposed to find trouble alluring.”
“It’s not a matter of allure, sir. It’s a matter of principle. Men aren’t the only ones who believe in the concepts of right and wrong, and the notion that nobody is above justice.”
“Daggett!” called Wrexford, his voice sharp with worry. In the next instant, Charlotte heard him start down the stairs. It sounded like he was taking them two at a time.
“We’re over here,” she called, not bothering to disguise her voice as he came into view. “As you warned, the captain has the eye of an eagle.”
The earl stopped short. “An unfortunate analogy, as eagles are known as deadly birds of prey.”
“I’ve assured Lady Charlotte that she has nothing to fear from me,” replied Daggett. “Even if I were on the hunt, I have a feeling she would be a match for any predator.”
“It seems that Captain Daggett has his own secret concerning his pursuit of Lyman,” explained Charlotte. “His mission is a personal one, as well as an official assignment from his government.”
She fixed the American with a challenging stare. His eyes no longer seemed quite as frightening. “I’m not asking for prurient reasons. However, I think it’s imperative that Wrexford and I know exactly what Lyman did to hurt your sister. In the heat of battle—if it comes down to that with our enemies—we must be aware of your weaknesses and how you might react. Our lives may depend on each other.”
“It sounds as if you have experience under fire, milady,” he responded.
“I served under Wellesley—now Lord Wellington—on Peninsula,” interjected the earl, “and am no stranger to the battlefield. If you’re questioning my bride-to-be’s steadiness in the face of danger, I assure you that she has steelier nerves than most soldiers.”
“I’m beginning to understand that,” said Daggett. It seemed to Charlotte that a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Very well, I’ll trust the two of you with my personal reason for pursuing Lyman, even though it is a very painful one that does me no credit. I should have . . .” He shifted. “I should have prevented it.”
“You have our promise that we won’t share it with others,” said Wrexford. “And we don’t give our word lightly.”
The American seemed to retreat into some deep place within himself. Charlotte recognized the shuttered look in his eyes. She had seen it reflected in her own gaze after the death of her husband—a bleak sadness, shadowed by guilt.
Daggett suddenly appeared human, and she liked him better for being made of flesh and blood, rather than ice and iron.
“My sister and her husband ran a harborside tavern in New York. I had picked up rumors of Lyman’s ill doings and so I asked them to keep a watch on him, and pass on to me any information they might overhear. I did warn them to be discreet, but I should have emphasized that.”
A costermonger’s barrow clattered by in the alleyway, the shrill cry for salted eel rising above the squeaky wheel.
“They did learn certain things, and duly dispatched a letter to me.” Daggett looked to Charlotte. “However, like you, my sister and her husband possessed a very strong sense of Right and Wrong, and informed me that in order to prevent one of Lyman’s rivals from being murdered, they felt beholden to report it to the local authorities. The next morning, they lay dead, along with the targeted man. All three had had their throats cut.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Charlotte. “Trite words, I know, but no less heartfelt.”
The American acknowledged them with a gruff nod.
“I take it the authorities had been bribed?” asked Wrexford.
“I assume so,” said Daggett. “Lyman didn’t know of my relationship to the murdered couple, so my investigation wasn’t compromised. However, he became more careful, and it took me a while to find a way to get close to him.”
“By convincing him that you were like him—a ruthless, unprincipled reptile whose cunning and naval connections would make you a perfect partner in crime in the slavery venture.”
A grunt of surprise. “H-How do you know—”
“You’re not the only one with connections within the nautical world of New York,” answered the earl. “But never mind that now. Let us focus on stopping von Stockhausen and Lyman—once and for all.”
CHAPTER 26
Sheffield looked up from the chart and pushed back his chair. “So, given the size of Lyman’s Baltimore Clipper, I think we’ve identified the three most likely places for it to be hiding—”
“There’s a fourth,” interjected Cordelia, tapping a finger to a spot on the south side of the river. “This narrow crevasse of water, just above Mill Stairs, is a perfect refuge. It’s a seedy area, catering to small lighters moving goods up and down the river, yet it’s wide enough and deep enough for a large ship. And the bend of the river provides an extra measure of privacy.”
