“It’s a naval dockyard,” reasoned Sheffield, after a lengthy interlude of quiet. “There are any number of reasons for loud noises—the crack of a mast, barrels falling from the storage racks.” He gave a reassuring pat to her shoulder. “Let us not imagine trouble. We need to keep our focus on where they are holding Alison prisoner.”
Charlotte nodded, knowing he was right. Drawing a calming breath, she turned to peer through the tall reeds at the isolated building, its dark brick half obscured by the scrim of ghostly mist drifting in from the unseen river. From this distance, it looked as if it had been deserted for years.
Despite Sheffield’s encouragement, her doubts refused to settle.
What if we are wrong?The question made her stomach start to churn.
Sheffield seemed to sense her anxiety. “Don’t worry. Both logic and intuition tell us that they are here,” he said. “The Weasels are creeping close and will get a look through the windows.”
Another spurt of fear. “I should have gone with them.”
“That would not have been wise,” he countered. “They are still small enough to look like harmless little mudlarks. Even if they are spotted, they won’t stir any alarm. Children are often seen along the river’s edge, searching for any flotsam and jetsam that can been sold.”
Charlotte knew he was right, but that didn’t settle her nerves. So much could go wrong.
Sheffield checked his pocket watch. “Wrexford should have finished arrangements with Tilden to dispatch an armed contingent of sailors to surround the house and cut off any access to the prototype steamboat moored at the Royal Navy’s secret shed.” He turned to Peregrine, who was crouched behind them. “Make your way to the road, and meet them at the landing area described by Horatio.”
The boy nodded.
“And guide Wrex back to us while Tilden and Horatio move their men into position.”
As Peregrine crept away, Charlotte looked down and began picking at a thread on her sleeve.
Reaching out, Sheffield stilled her fingers. “I know you are worried—”
“I’m not worried,” she interjected. “I’m terrified.”
“We all are,” he replied. “We will get her back because . . .” He stared at the brick building. “Because we all simply refuse to believe otherwise.”
That drew a shadow of a smile from Charlotte. “And heaven forfend that the forces of the cosmos dare defy our wishes.”
“Precisely.” He exaggerated a grimace. “Because that would mean they would have to face Wrex when he’s in a truly foul mood.”
Charlotte wouldn’t have thought it possible, but a whispery laugh rose up in her throat. “Thank you, Kit.”
“Well, you have to admit, when push comes to shove, we do manage to pull each other’s cods out of the fire.”
“Amen to that,” she responded.
A rustling in the reeds cut off any further banter. Like a shadow flitting through the gloom, Raven appeared a moment later, followed by Hawk.
“The villains are there,” he confirmed. “They have Aunt Alison tied to a chair.”
Charlotte released a sigh of relief.
“Withverythick rope,” added Hawk with a scowl.
“S’all right,” muttered Raven. “We’ll have her free in a trice once Wrex arrives.”
“Does she appear to be holding up under such duress?’ asked Charlotte. “Did she look frightened?’
Raven and Hawk exchanged sniggers. “Actually, she looked hopping mad,” said Raven.
“She called Colonel Jarvis a very bad name,” added Hawk. “But she said it in French, so he might not have understood the insult.”
Charlotte considered that nugget of information, which prompted yet another question. “Since when do you know how to swear in French?”
“Aunt Alison has been teaching us,” admitted Raven. “She says a gentleman of the world should be able to curse in at least a half a dozen languages.”
