“Let’s keep moving,” prodded the earl.
As he had hoped, the urging distracted Daggett. “Any ideas yet on how to attack the ship?” asked the American, after turning away from Charlotte.
“A diversion seems the logical choice, but Tyler may have some specific ideas, as he’s been observing the activities around the wharf.”
“Your valet appears to be a man of many talents.”
“I’m easily bored. He keeps me amused,” answered Wrexford.
Daggett stayed close as they quickened their steps. “Your fiancée must be an unusual lady.” A pause. “Or perhaps she’s not aware of what an eccentric household she is about to enter.”
The earl ignored the comment. “We need to wait here,” he said, coming to a halt just short of emerging from between the timber racks. “The lad has gone to fetch Tyler.”
Angling his gaze, he began to survey the surroundings. The steep roof of a sail loft and its adjoining storage area blocked his view of wharves, but he could see there were a number of ways to reach the tidal basin where the ship was moored. However, access wasn’t the issue. Any attempt to steal the plant from the ship would be a perilous undertaking, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed a foolhardy risk.
The three ringleaders were murderous cutthroats, and the crew members were likely handpicked for their lack of morals, given the ship’s original mission as an illegal slaver. It made far more sense to orchestrate an official impounding of the ship. The question was, did Daggett’s documents carry enough clout to make such a thing possible before the tide turned?
A flicker of movement cut short his musing. It was Hawk—
Wrexford dropped to a crouch and drew his pistol.
But something was terribly wrong. The boy was flying like a bat out of hell.
Hawk skidded and stumbled as he made a sharp turn around the timbers jutting out from the racks. Wrexford caught the boy as he fell, and pulled him into the shadows.
His face was white with fear.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Daggett.
“Hold your tongue,” barked Wrexford, thankful that Charlotte had the good sense to remain silent. “Give the lad a chance to catch his breath.”
It took only another instant for Hawk to master his emotions enough to speak. “M-Mr. Tyler is gone!” he said. “And so is the ship!”
* * *
Gone?Charlotte couldn’t believe her ears.
Tyler was very experienced in clandestine activities . . . And how could a ship simply disappear?
She didn’t dare look up and try to catch Wrexford’s eye. She had come to realize that Daggett was even more dangerous than she had feared. He was like a stalking predator, all razor-sharp eyes and coiled muscles waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
“They may have decided to shift the ship to an even more hidden spot,” reasoned the earl. “And Tyler has followed it—”
“No, sir!” exclaimed Hawk. “I asked Smoke, who does odd jobs around the collier’s foundry, to keep a watch on him when I left to alert Mr. Sheffield and Lady Cordelia of our discovery. He said two men crept up on Mr. Tyler and dragged him away to the ship. It then cast off its mooring lines and raised its topsails to scud away to the river.”
So the dastards knew their perfidy had been discovered.
That would make them even more dangerous.
Tyler . . . Her heart raced as her blood momentarily turned to ice. Tyler couldn’t hope for mercy. His captors had none.
“Even under a full press of sails, the ship can’t reach the sea when the tide is against it,” said Daggett decisively. “They’re hiding somewhere upriver.”
His boots squelched in the soft mud as he shifted his stance. “But with all the little inlets and coves—not to speak of the smuggling rings and their well-hidden dens of iniquity—there isn’t a chance in hell that we can find them in seven hours.”
More like six and a half,thought Charlotte.
“Bloody hell and damnation.” To her surprise, the American’s steely self-control exploded in a burst of emotion as he hit one of the timbers with a clenched fist. “Two years I’ve been after Lyman, determined to see that he pays for the evil he’s done to so many lives . . .”
