Dave beamed and declared he would be honored. He saluted, and they parted from him and hurried on to the wharves, finally spilling onto the weather-worn planks to discover Royd, Robert, and Declan waiting for them by The Prince’s gangplank. Apparently, the need for sustenance had bloomed in everyone’s minds, and The Prince had a stateroom large enough to seat them all around its table.
The meal was decidedly celebratory. Isobel inspected the wide selection of dishes. “The cooks must have rushed ashore the instant we docked.”
Declan paused to inspect the guinea fowl leg he was devouring. “They did. And all the crews are enjoying their enthusiasm, too.”
Their appetites finally sated, they sat back and let the empty platters and plates get whisked away. Nursing glasses of wine, they turned their minds to the next steps. Royd let his gaze circle the table, eventually allowing it to rest on Isobel, with Duncan, his stomach now full, leaning sleepily against her side. He savored the sight for several seconds, then forced his mind to the matter at hand. “We started this mission with three goals. We’ve successfully achieved the first, rescuing the captives with minimal losses and returning them to the bosom of their families here in the settlement.”
Everyone nodded.
He continued, “Our second goal was to dismantle the scheme, and I believe we’ve done all we can in that regard. There are no more diamonds in the mine, Dubois and his men are gone, Kale and his gang are gone, and we have the three locals who initiated the scheme in custody and will deliver them to the authorities in London. The only links in the chain we haven’t addressed are the diamond merchant in Amsterdam and the mysterious banker, but we can leave them to Wolverstone and colleagues—they’re better placed than we are to deal with such people.”
Murmurs of agreement came from his brothers. The ladies simply waited to learn what came next.
He duly went on, “That brings us to our last goal—gathering evidence enough to convict the backers. That’s the goal we’ve yet to attain. We have two of the backers in custody, but they’re not going to talk. More, once back in England, they will use their positions, their connections, and their wealth to walk free.”
“If we hand them over to the usual authorities,” Robert said, “they will walk free.”
“Indeed.” Royd twirled his goblet between his fingers. “So what weapons, as it were, do we have to prevent that?”
“We have the petition,” Isobel said. “I vote we ensure that several highly placed and influential people see it before we hand it over.”
Declan nodded. “Yes, indeed. No reason to leave open the option of mislaying it.”
“I take it,” Caleb said, his gaze on Royd, “that you intend to use the petition as leverage to ensure Ross-Courtney and Neill aren’t simply released to await possible trial—a trial that, if matters follow their usual course, will never eventuate?”
Royd nodded. “The petition will make it impossible for the authorities to immediately follow that path—and will allow Wolverstone and his cronies to push to hold the pair secretly.”
“If we’re to have any chance of identifying and apprehending the other four backers,” Robert said, “holding Ross-Courtney and Neill in secret will be crucial. They can’t be allowed to get a message to any of the other four.”
“Precisely,” Declan said.
“At least we know there are four others.” Edwina leaned her chin on one hand. “And given Ross-Courtney’s and Neill’s stations, I would think it a given that the other four will be of similar ilk—members of the aristocracy or even the nobility.”
“Which, perversely,” Isobel added, “due to the potential political ramifications, will be a crucial point in keeping Melville and company’s feet to the fire over doing whatever it takes to identify and convict them all.” There were murmurs of agreement all around.
When no one advanced any further comment, Isobel said, “It comes back to the diamonds.” Across the table, she met Royd’s eyes; they’d already informed the others of the women’s plan. “You called the women’s notion brilliant, and indeed, it is inspired. If we can get Ross-Courtney and Neill held in secret, entirely incommunicado, having a blue diamond necklace being flaunted through the ton’s ballrooms will almost certainly lure the other backers to at least approach and ask questions.”
“Flaunted through the ballrooms by a lady unfamiliar to most,” Edwina said. “And even after they learn your name, they still won’t know enough to have any clue as to how you got the blue diamonds. They’ll have to ask you—they won’t be able to resist.”
“And as we’ve just established,” Aileen said, “the other four backers are almost certainly members of the haut ton.”
“What’s more, we’ll be returning just in time for the weeks of balls and parties around the start of Parliament’s autumn session.” Edwina beamed. “Those other four backers will almost certainly be in town and likely to attend the major events.”
Declan frowned and looked at Royd and Robert. “Surely Wolverstone and his friends will be able to trace the other four backers through the diamond merchant in Amsterdam, tracing the payments from him to the banker, and so to the backers?”
“If there was no time constraint, then eventually, yes—or so one would think. But in this case”—Royd shook his head—“I can’t see the authorities resisting Ross-Courtney’s and Neill’s threats and holding them in complete isolation for long enough for that avenue to be a viable one. It would have been different if Muldoon had known the diamond merchant’s name or direction, but his only connection was via the strongboxes sent with the captains the merchant organized, whose names he doesn’t know, and regardless, I would wager those captains won’t know to whom they were delivering, either.”
“Muldoon thought he’d met the man, but in reality it sounds as if he merely met a few journeymen in a tavern’s back room.” Robert shook his head. “Whoever the diamond merchant is, he’s been exceedingly careful to cover his tracks. Unearthing him won’t be easy, and it definitely won’t be quick.”
Caleb’s face hardened. “The instant Ross-Courtney or Neill gets to see anyone in their employ—from lackey to solicitor—the other backers will be notified, along with the banker and diamond merchant, and any evidence that might exist of the involvement of any of them in the scheme will mysteriously vanish. In a puff of smoke.”
“I agree.” Royd met Declan’s, then Robert’s eyes. “In order to keep faith with all those we rescued, we need to do all we can—everything we can—to bring all six backers to justice. To my mind, we’re committed to achieving that as our third and final goal.”
Declan shifted. “I don’t disagree. But what’s the best and most certain avenue to that end?”
Robert crossed his forearms on the table. “Regardless of the petition, regardless of any political pressure, the second Ross-Courtney’s and Neill’s feet touch British soil, a clock starts ticking on this investigation—on the time we’ll have to identify and expose the other backers and secure enough evidence to convict them all.” He looked at Royd. “I agree that we can’t leave this as is in the hope that Wolverstone and company will turn up the required evidence in time. There are hundreds of diamond merchants in Amsterdam, and we’ve no information as to which one Ross-Courtney engaged. It could take months to identify the right man and induce him to give up the banker—or trace the payments if he won’t. That route will turn up evidence eventually, but it will take time.”
Declan grunted. He looked across the table at Edwina, who smiled sympathetically back.
Royd put what they were all thinking into words. “So we return to the blue diamond necklace. To us using the lure the women in the compound gave us.” He looked around the table, meeting all the adults’ eyes. “We need to start putting our minds to exactly how we’re going to do that.”
A tap on the door heralded Jolley. He loo
ked at Royd. “Mr. Stewart’s compliments—His Excellency, the Governor, and Vice-Admiral Decker have arrived. As per your orders, he’s kept them on the main deck.”
Royd nodded. “Tell Mr. Stewart I’m on my way.”
Jolley snapped off a salute and left.
Royd glanced around the table. “We’ve done well so far, and we know where we are and what lies ahead. It’s been a long day—let’s table our discussions for tonight.” He looked at Robert, Declan, and Caleb. “I’ll call a captains’ meeting for tomorrow morning to confirm our sailing plans. But now”—he pushed back his chair—“I’d better go and deal with Holbrook and Decker.”
Robert slanted him a glance. “Do you need support?”
Royd thought, then shook his head. “For what I have to say to them, the fewer witnesses, the better.”
Robert nodded in acceptance.
Royd looked at Isobel. She roused Duncan—drowsing, but not yet asleep—and rose.
With a nod to the others, Royd walked to the cabin’s door. He held it for Isobel, then followed her and Duncan through.
He preceded them down the gangplank, and they walked the short distance along the main wharf and onto Government Wharf where The Corsair was the first moored vessel.
As they neared, Isobel glanced up at The Corsair’s deck. “I take it you summoned Holbrook and Decker here rather than attend them in the settlement for a reason.” She glanced at him. “So they’re in your domain, as it were?”
He lightly shrugged. “That, and as an exercise in authority—in establishing who in this situation actually holds it.” He met her gaze. “With men like them, such nuances matter.”
She nodded. They reached the gangplank, and she glanced at Duncan, trailing beside her, one hand in hers, the other smothering yawns. “I would offer to help you intimidate Ralph, but quite aside from you not needing any help, I doubt having a woman present while you deliver a dressing-down will aid your cause.”
He smiled. “Thank you. And you’re correct on both counts.”
She smiled at him and started up the plank, drawing Duncan behind her. “I’ll put Duncan to bed.”
She stepped onto the deck. She looked dispassionately at Holbrook and Decker and haughtily inclined her head.
Both men bowed.
With a crisp “Gentlemen. I’ll leave you to your discussions,” she continued toward the companionway, towing a now-wide-eyed Duncan behind her.
Decker stared at Duncan. Holbrook didn’t know enough about Royd or Isobel to register the import of what he’d just seen.
Royd waited several seconds to give Isobel and Duncan time to reach Duncan’s cabin, then formally said, “Welcome aboard The Corsair, currently sailing under marque for His Majesty’s government. Thank you for attending, gentlemen.” Without waiting for any response, he set off in Isobel’s wake. “We can talk in private below.”
He led the way down the stairs and into the stern cabin. He claimed the admiral’s chair behind his captain’s desk and waved Holbrook and Decker to the two straight-backed chairs angled before it. “Please be seated, gentlemen.”
It was the only concession he was prepared to make; they could sit while he informed them of their incompetence. He was in no mood to pander to any delicate sensibilities.
Decker and Holbrook exchanged a glance; from their expressions, both wished to protest his assumption of command, but neither dared.
As the pair sat, Royd nodded at Bellamy, who had followed and was hovering in the doorway, to shut the door.
Then he rested his forearms on the desk, clasped his hands, and looked at the two men before him. “Let me tell you what’s been happening in this settlement under your very noses over the past several months.” He proceeded to outline the scheme Satterly, Muldoon, and Winton had devised and, with the financial backing of Ross-Courtney, Neill, and four as-yet-unidentified other gentlemen, put into place. He made it clear that the three instigators had seen the many weaknesses in the settlement’s governance and had exploited them. He did not spare Decker and Holbrook any of the details of those kidnapped—the children and the women as well as the men—nor did he censor his description of the threats Dubois had used against the women and children, of the fate of Daisy, or of the subsequent conditions in the camp. He also told them of the attempts to kidnap Edwina and Aileen, the former instigated by Holbrook’s now-absent wife. “All this, gentlemen, happened on your watch. Ultimately, the responsibility is yours, and as we are all aware, ignorance is no defense in a case such as this.”
Decker looked green.
Holbrook had turned puce and seized the moment to say, “I can assure you, now we understand the situation, we will deal with those responsible—”
“Ah—no.” Royd sat back. “The prisoners will remain aboard the Frobisher ships. They will be handed directly to the authorities in London.”
Decker understood and, having grasped his own culpability, was only too ready to allow Royd to spare him the difficulty of dealing with Ross-Courtney and Neill.
Although far more culpable than Decker, Holbrook still failed to appreciate the seriousness of the situation, much less the precariousness of his own position. “Now see here, sir—Captain. Lord Ross-Courtney is an important man. And Neill, too. Their support for the settlement would make a huge difference—”
“They have no interest in this settlement.” Royd ground out the words. He caught and held Holbrook’s startled gaze. “The only business Ross-Courtney and Neill were interested in was the diamond mine. That’s what they came here to see. The tale they spun you was a complete fabrication designed to deflect you, which, clearly, it did.”
Holbrook deflated. Before he could rally and make a push to have at least Satterly, Muldoon, and Winton handed over so he could make examples of them in an effort to placate those who had lost loved ones while Holbrook had insisted that men, women, and children had all simply walked into the jungle in search of their fortunes, Royd crisply stated, “My orders are to take all prisoners involved in this scheme to London. Our ships are being provisioned as we speak and will depart the day after tomorrow.” He looked at Decker. “The blockade needs to remain in place until the end of the day we sail.”
Decker nodded. Somewhat tentatively, he ventured, “I take it you wish no word of the prisoners to get back to England?”
“Precisely.” Royd met Decker’s gaze, then looked at Holbrook. “All those we rescued know the importance of keeping their mouths shut about Ross-Courtney and Neill. Other than those in the rescue party—all of whom, likewise, understand the need to keep their lips shut and are committed to doing so—the two of you are the only others to know of our prisoners’ identities.” He paused, then, his voice quieter, said, “If there is any word that reaches England prior to their trial, any word that can be traced back to the settlement, to a comment from either of you shared where it shouldn’t have been—for instance, with Macauley—or to any letter from either of you to any correspondent no matter how discreet, I can assure you the consequences for you will be dire.”
He glanced at Decker, then looked back at Holbrook. “Don’t test the resolve of those behind the push to bring these men to justice.”
He allowed several seconds to slip past, then nodded and rose. “Good evening, gentlemen. If I have any further need of your services prior to departing, I will let you know.” As they came to their feet, he rounded the desk, crossed to the door, opened it, and waved them through.
He followed them onto the deck and watched as they left his ship.
Liam Stewart appeared beside him; he, too, watched Holbrook stump up the wharf toward the street where his carriage would be waiting. Decker went the other way, presumably to his tender to be ferried back to his flagship. “I take it that went well,” Liam said. “Or at least, well enough.”
“The latter.” Royd grimaced
. “For all his many faults, Decker’s no fool. Holbrook...” He shook his head and turned back to the companionway—then remembered. “Send flags to the others—captains’ meeting tomorrow at ten. Aboard Consort.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Liam saluted and went off to organize the signal.
Royd headed below decks.
He returned to the stern cabin. After shutting the main door, he went to the connecting door to Duncan’s cabin and silently opened it.
Isobel was seated on the edge of Duncan’s bed. She looked up as Royd drew near.
He looked down at Duncan’s face, faintly flushed in sleep; he drank in the untrammeled innocence, the simple joy of being alive that, even in sleep, infused his son’s features.
And knew he would do anything, give anything, fight any battle to be there to see his son grow and mature. To protect and guide, albeit with a light hand, and observe how this creation of his and Isobel’s turned out.
He transferred his gaze to her face. She’d looked back at Duncan, and the fierceness of the love she bore him illuminated her features. He did not doubt her devotion to their son; he would always stand as Duncan’s protector, but she would be there, too—an Amazon, in truth.
After a moment, he reached for her hand, grasped her fingers, and drew her to her feet. She allowed him to lead her into the main cabin.
He closed the door, smoothly twirled her, and backed her against the panel. As he stepped into her, her hands splayed on his chest, her eyes met his, and with typical challenge, she arched a brow.
He bent his head and covered her lips with his.
He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He deepened the kiss, and she slid her palms to his cheeks and held him steady as she gave him back fire for fire.
He ravaged and devoured, until she wound her arms about his neck and pushed boldly—bodily—into him, away from the panel at her back. The pressure of her body, of her long sleek limbs and luscious curves flush against his harder frame, amounted to an act of deliberate provocation.