“We know the da Vinci manuscript was going to be a grand revelation at your gala reception. It’s a rare and arcane item—how did the consortium come to know about it—and then to steal it?” growled Charlotte.
“I knew of it from my Oxford days, as I was a student in Balliol College. I thought it a clever idea . . .” Maitland’s expression turned to one of self-loathing. “Until Jarvis calmly announced that he had stolen it and made sure that Neville Greeley would never tell a soul about the theft.” He pressed his palms to his brow. “You must believe me, I had no inkling of the depths of his depravity until then. I swore to myself that I would somehow free myself from his clutches.” A shuddering sigh. “But I was too cowardly to act.”
“You are not the only one,” whispered Lady Kirkwall. “But you may make amends by working for the good of mankind in the future.”
“I swear that I will, milady,” answered Maitland.
A smile touched Lady Kirkwall’s lips. Releasing a breath, she closed her eyes.
A moment later, she was gone.
* * *
“Gibbs! Bowers!” called Horatio above the noise of the steam engine. “Bring up the two-pounder and bolt it into the brass mount on the bow!”
Wrexford leaned over the larboard railing and squinted through the swirls of vapor and ash spewing from the smokestack. The hull of the boat was cutting through the currents of the incoming tide at a fast clip, throwing up splashes of foam-flecked water.
Was he merely imagining it, or was there really a pale cloud of steam visible up ahead, indicating that they were indeed gaining ground on Jarvis’s vessel?
“Milord!”
The earl turned to see Horatio turn the wheel over to one of his men and come to join him.
“We’re catching up to them, sir.”
“Are we?” Wrexford still couldn’t make out any distinct shape through the haze.
Horatio grinned. “See for yourself.” He clicked open his spyglass and passed it over.
Once the earl steadied the instrument and rotated the lenses, the stern and the smokestack of a steamboat up ahead sharpened into clear focus. He watched for another moment, taking satisfaction in seeing it grow slightly bigger, then snapped the spyglass shut.
“Jarvis is in the rear of the boat, manning the tiller, and his two cohorts are stoking the boiler,” said Horatio. “But we are faster. Another quarter hour and we’ll be in range.”
“In range for what?”
“Blowing his propeller to kingdom come,” answered the midshipman. “Colonel Jarvis doesn’t know it, but Mr. Tilden and I decided to experiment with mounting a small bow chaser on our boat, as it might prove very useful when patrolling the river for pirates and thieves.”
“Clever,” said Wrexford.
In answer, Horatio turned on his heel. “Gunners!” he bellowed. “To the bow with the powder and shot.” To the earl, he added, “I’ve had my men practicing their marksmanship. And they know just where to aim in order to disable the colonel’s boat.”
Wrexford fell in step behind the burly sailors carrying the bags of gunpowder and small cannonballs, while Horatio gathered a half dozen sailors from the starboard side and sent them to fetch muskets from the weapons box. Their quarry was now easily visible with the naked eye.
Closer, closer. He moved to the railing, tapping his palms impatiently against the varnished oak.
“We’ll get him, milord,” said the midshipman as he came to stand beside the earl. “My men are crack shots.”
“I don’t want him dead, Mr. Porter. I intend to take him alive.”
“That may not be possible—”
“Just get me close. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Sir!” called one of the gun crew. “We’re in range.”
Horatio hurried to take charge of the attack on the enemy. “Aim low at the stern, lads. We’re looking to disable the boat, not destroy it.” A pause. “We’ve put too much blood, sweat, and toil into crafting the hull and engine to let that miserable piece of filth wreck them.”
A cheer went up from the sailors around them.
