He popped on his hat and readied to get out, when Tramel raised his cane and blocked the door. “You lived back then, surviving smallpox, but now you seem to be searching for a bullet with your name, David Felton Lance. My namesake should be smarter.” He eased his cane to the floor. “I like that you’ve been wily enough to stay alive, but luck can run out. Gladstone’s brat son, Jeremiah, becomes my heir if you die. You’ve just sired girls.”
“Well, they love their grandfather too.” Felton sat back but stayed close to the door. “Are we done?”
“No. I hope you’re smart enough to know when you should engage and when you should leave island smugglers alone.”
Ahh, the shadowy places. Tramel’s network had sent him a message. He reached over and jerked the man by his lapels. “Someone alerted the Demeraran council of my last operation there and killed my friend. Tramel, if you’re in league with traitors, so help me—”
“No, Gantry. I’m not in league with people who’d kill good men, just bad ones.”
Felton opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing helpful in deciphering what Tramel meant. And he didn’t want to try.
“Son, I don’t want you killed.”
He let go of the man’s jacket and plopped back down on the seat. “The smugglers I’m after not only set up an ambush, they sank theHenryas it left Demerara. Too many good men died.”
“Don’t add to the death count. You’ve responsibilities to your daughters, to Cecilia, and me. Don’t forget that.”
“Are you involved in this? Is there no depth to which you won’t sink?”
“You’ve been warned. You’ve been smart. A lot smarter than I gave you credit for, but you have more to lose. I’ll protect you as much as I can, but even I have limits.”
The man knew more, but he’d not say. He’d dangle unsettling things in front of Felton to twist him up. No more. He slid to the door and pried it open. “You taught me how to survive alone.”
“Sometimes you have to think ofwe. It’s not just you anymore.”
For a second, it sounded like something Cecilia said, but this was more Tramel’s machinations. “Have a pleasant day, Father.” He stormed out and waited for the new duke to leave.
Then Felton stalked to his carriage and his man, Watson.
“Sir, ya don’t look happy.” The steady man from Grenada had been a faithful advocate these past years, since he had provided Felton’s team ground intelligence on the island. “Ya father give you a talkin’ to?”
“Congratulate me. I’m a marquess. My father is finally the Duke of Tramel.”
“Fancy. But are we still employed, my lord?”
Nodding, Felton tugged on his gray jacket. The letters in his pockets made crinkling noises. He still had two battles to engage at Mayfair. Three if you count his new elevation. “They say death comes in threes, Watson. I’m not feeling lucky right now.”
His driver shrugged. “But another trip?”
Telling Cecilia about her father, then his girls that he had to go on another trip, would be hard but he had to do this for Johnson. “Yes.”
“Oh boy.” Watson laughed. “Just one more assignment. That’s how Liverpool be getting to ya. Lady Gantry and Lady Jane will be so unhappy.”
“Lady Jane and Aunt Nelly will keep things going in Town.”
“And the wife, Lady Gantry?”
“I’ll quit for good once I catch the informant. Who knows, maybe I can bring down the whole smuggling ring.”
Watson had that look about him, almost the same as the one Cecilia offered that made Felton think he’d buttoned his buttons wrong.
“I asked about the wife, my lord.”
“Lady Gantry is a strong capable woman.” She’ll hate Felton and he’ll have to win her anew. The risk in that sounded fun, adventurous.
“Well, your special weapons will be oiled and ready. Never truly put them away, sir. Had a feelin’ ya weren’t done.”
Felton climbed into his carriage, comforting himself that it wouldn’t be a long time away.
