Charlotte lifted her chin to meet the other women’s gazes. She didn’t speak the answer—that Sophia might be wrongly accused of imbibing too much gin or just being lazy. Things that weren’t right or fair. Charlotte wasn’t meant to say the words aloud but to herself, to internalize them.
“I see your point,” Charlotte murmured as she rubbed her finger against a chip in the bench’s battle-scarred veneer. “I can use my ladylike sensibilities to command a great deal of attention, but I am afraid that even an extremely theatrical collapse won’t dissuade my parents from marrying me off to Hawley. I invested in the Black Sheep so that eventually I would have the financial independence to support myself. But I also hoped that the coffeehouse could help me discover tangible evidence of Lord Hawley’s misdeeds. I am afraid that, even if I defied my parents and threw the viscount over, he would still come after me. I need to prove his villainy in a way that stops him from not only hurting me but all his future victims.”
Sophia frowned in concern. “Verifying rumors about a man like Hawley is like pinning down a wispy phantom. Even a seasoned thieftaker would fail.”
“But I must try! I truly do not wish to court danger, but…”
“Trailing brigands is not the soundest plan.” Hannah’s voice gentled again. “You are no match for subterfuge against seasoned criminals. You’re fortunate that Sophia and I happened to be departing in a hackney carriage when Sophia spotted you trailing those men like a flightless crow. If we hadn’t ordered the driver to follow you, well… I think you are worldly enough to understand what we saved you from.”
Charlotte glanced at her cousin and spotted a hint of understanding in her gem-like gaze. Perhaps Hannah was beginning tounderstand that Charlotte’s need to escape Lord Hawley was not just some spoiled tantrum.
“Is that how you came to rescue me?” Charlotte asked. She’d been so caught up in first fear and then in the discussion that she hadn’t stopped to consider how fortuitous the women’s arrival had been.
“Aye,” Sophia said.
“Are we headed back to the Black Sheep?” Charlotte asked.
The two cousins exchanged one of their infamous looks. Charlotte glanced outside and realized that they were traveling near the wharves of the Pool of London where the tall-masted seafaring vessels docked.
“There isn’t time,” Sophia said, her tone as matter-of-fact as always. “We unfortunately wasted too much of it watching over you, and others are relying on us.”
“You may see things, Charlotte, that you can tell no one about, not even Alexander,” Hannah said sharply.
Something in her cousin’s face caused new concerns to whip through Charlotte. “See things? What sort of things?”
“You will understand when you witness them,” Sophia said cryptically.
Charlotte swiveled her body to look from one Wick cousin to another. Their miens were completely serious, their jaws set in the resolute way of soldiers. Still, Charlotte hoped to see one of them crack a smile—just a little one—to assure her that this was all a joke.
“You’re teasing me,” Charlotte said and then waited a beat. Neither of the women’s expressions changed. “Right?” Still nothing. “Correct?” Charlotte’s voice went high on the last question.
Slowly, both of the Wick cousins shook their heads. Sophia was the one to speak. “We would not have dragged you along unless it was absolutely necessary. But we must be in place and ready to assist if something goes wrong tonight.”
Upon those ominous words, the carriage pulled to a stop. No sooner did it cease swaying than a fierce knocking sounded on the door. Hannah swung it open to reveal a young, pale-faced boy with a terrified expression on his face. His clothes were rough but not ragged. His wide blue eyes first latched on to Hannah’s face and then Sophia’s.
“Belle sent me,” the lad huffed out. “Dragoons all over. He’s worried Dr. Talbot is walking into an ambush.”
Matthew? Soldiers? A trap? A devastating agony scoured Charlotte’s insides, and the pain almost caused her to pitch forward. But she managed to stand despite her shaking legs.
Matthew was in danger. Her stunned mind wasn’t even attempting to determine what the peril could be. Charlotte’s heart only knew that she had to save him.
Chapter Seventeen
The water of the Thames slapped against the wharf’s pilings, the sound echoing in Matthew’s empty chest. No matter how many rescue missions he’d undertaken, dread always carved a gaping hollow inside him. Soon, purpose and energy would fill that void, but right now, Matthew waited in the shadows, his eyes scanning his target.
TheValiantlooked like any other merchantman, its hull a solid black silhouette against the moonlit sky, with its masts stabbing into the starry firmament. It was neither a particularly large vessel nor a noticeably small one. It did not appear powerful nor rundown, menacing nor ghostly. It was no different than any of the hundred other barques lining the London quay.
Yet Matthew had learned that the most innocuous exteriors could obscure indescribable horrors within. TheValiantwasn’t a barbarous slaver, the most inhumane vessels that had ever set sail. It did, however, contain white British prisoners who were about to be shipped to the New World and then sold as indentured servants for work in the tobacco fields of Virginia and Maryland. Ten criminals on board were only boys. A few had been found poaching to feed their families. Others were pickpockets who had only filched items of low value from rich, powerful men. All the boys had broken a law and were not innocent victims of kidnapping like Black Africans, but the severity of their punishment far outweighed anyharm they had wrought. Desperation and starvation had driven the children to commit the acts in the first place.
Matthew watched the decks of the ship as he took stock of the men on watch. Since this was a merchantman and not a Royal Navy vessel, sneaking aboard wasn’t as dangerous as when Matthew freed street urchins who’d been forcibly pressed into His Majesty’s service. Yet military guards assigned to the vessel would be armed and prepared to defend their goods… and human cargo. Worse, Matthew had heard rumors that the government was considering sending dragoons to watch the docks after his successful raids on other ships transporting child prisoners.
An impatient amber eye suddenly appeared in Matthew’s line of vision. Although Pan did not utter a sound, he made his irritation evident by digging his talons into Matthew’s scalp. The bloodthirsty bird always hated waiting.
Matthew reached up to calm the parrot but received a sharp peck instead. Pan fluttered and fluffed his wings against Matthew’s temples. Matthew ignored the tickle of feathers as he scanned his target one last time. With his plan formulated and each guard accounted for, he pointed toward the ship’s mizzenmast.
Pan immediately recognized the signal. Without a sound other than his wings beating against the air, he soared into position. In the moonlight, Matthew could see Pan’s shadow against the white of the furled sail, but the men below would never think to look for it.
“Hollaaaa!” Pan cried out enthusiastically. Unlike Matthew, the old rascal loved their nighttime adventures.
