Stephanie Laurens - Lord Of The Privateers

Isobel clasped Edwina’s fingers and returned her smile. “Lady Edwina—it’s a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Isobel. I understand we’re throwing ourselves on your hospitality, at least until Royd learns what Caleb has found and receives his orders.”

Declan blinked, then he turned to Royd and Robert, who were exchanging news.

Edwina brightened even more. Rather than release Isobel, she tugged her forward. “Do come in—you must meet Aileen.” She glanced frowningly at the trio of males, but they’d moved sufficiently to allow Isobel to slip past.

She stepped into an elegant front hall.

The brassy-haired lady had fallen back and stood waiting to offer her hand. “I’m Aileen Hopkins. I met Robert in Freetown, and I returned to London with him on The Trident.”

Isobel clasped Aileen’s fingers. “I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Hopkins.”

“Aileen, please. It seems we all have an interest in what’s been happening in Freetown.” The statement was a poorly disguised question, a transparent invitation to share.

Apparently, neither Edwina nor Aileen was at all slow in observing and deducing. Isobel sobered. “Indeed. I’ll be traveling there with Royd in pursuit of one of my cousins. I understand both of you have been in the settlement, so I’m particularly keen to speak with you.” She glanced from Aileen’s hazel eyes to Edwina’s encouraging blue gaze. “I need to learn everything you can tell me about a Miss Katherine Fortescue.”

“Miss Fortescue!” Edwina’s expression grew concerned. She put a hand on Isobel’s arm. “I greatly fear, Isobel, that Miss Fortescue has been captured by slavers. Possibly taken to work in a mine.”

She compressed her lips and nodded. “Royd and I agree that her disappearance is very likely linked to his mission.”

Edwina and Aileen swung their gazes to the men, still standing on the porch.

Isobel looked, too; the three brothers were holding various papers and notes, shuffling, reading, and exclaiming.

“You’ve arrived at the perfect moment,” Edwina said. “Hornby—one of Caleb’s men—arrived not five minutes ago with that satchel Robert’s holding. It’s full of reports and maps.” Edwina met Isobel’s gaze. “It seems Caleb has found the mine and has remained to keep watch over the captives.”

“He might have sent a list of said captives.” Aileen narrowed her eyes on the three men. “But we haven’t had a chance to see.”

Edwina exchanged a steely glance with Aileen, then looked at Isobel. “Do you need to go up and refresh yourself and rest or...?” She gestured toward the men.

Isobel met Edwina’s eyes. “I’m not the wilting sort. Let’s get those papers and see what Caleb’s sent.”

Edwina nodded once. Her chin firming, she bustled forward. Aileen followed in support.

Isobel nodded to the butler, who was supervising the footmen as they ferried her and Royd’s luggage inside. She removed her hat, laid it on a side table, and pulled off her gloves. By the grace of God, she’d fallen in with like-minded women. Edwina might be a slip of a thing, a petite, delicate-looking, golden-haired damsel with bright-blue eyes, but she possessed a great deal of energy and—for Isobel’s money—a spine of steel. Like recognized like, and Aileen Hopkins seemed of similar disposition. Isobel watched with approval as, with a ruthless efficiency the Frobisher brothers had no hope of resisting, Edwina and Aileen herded the three off the porch, into the hall, and into a cozy drawing room.

Tucking her gloves into her skirt pocket, Isobel joined the women as, bringing up the rear, they swept into the room. Edwina paused on the threshold to instruct the butler—Humphrey—to prepare rooms for Isobel and Royd. Isobel grasped the moment as they arranged themselves on sofas and chairs to exchange greetings with Robert—like Declan, he viewed her with wary trepidation, but cloaked it better—then she sank onto a sofa beside Aileen.

Royd claimed the armchair to her left. Edwina made a spirited bid to commandeer the satchel, but in that, she didn’t succeed. Royd had taken possession and stared her down. Then he leaned forward and spread the satchel’s contents on the low table between the twin sofas. “There’s no sense attempting to discuss anything while each of us knows only bits of the whole. I suggest we each take a portion of these documents, read and assimilate, then pass what we have to the right. Once we’ve all absorbed what’s been sent, we’ll see what we can make of the current situation.”

No one argued. Royd divided the papers into six roughly equal piles, distributed them, and they settled to read.

Silence descended, broken by the rustling of papers and the occasional “humph.” Accustomed to reading screeds of reports, Isobel reached the end of her pile first. She sat and let all she’d learned settle in her mind—like a jigsaw for which she was still missing too many pieces to even guess the shapes. Robert raised his head and tidied the stack of papers on his knee. Like her, he said nothing; from the slight frown on his face, she suspected he was adjusting some view he’d previously held.

Aileen was the last to finish her documents—which included Robert’s journal. She humphed and passed her pile to Robert. They all handed on what they’d read, received the next batch from the person on their left, and settled to read again.

By the time each of them had read all the documents, the afternoon was well advanced. Edwina rang for tea, and Humphrey and a footman brought in trays loaded with two teapots, cups, saucers, and plates, and a selection of cakes, including a heavy fruitcake sufficient to satisfy manly appetites.

Royd waited until the ladies had sipped and nibbled, and he and his brothers had demolished the fruitcake—and their minds had had at least that much time to absorb all they’d just taken in—before, with the documents once again piled on the satchel before him, he said, “We should summarize what we’ve learned to this point, revised in light of what Caleb has sent.”

His brothers nodded. The ladies directed alert gazes his way, but didn’t speak.

Good.

He set down his teacup. “We now know that three instigators—for want of a better label—living in Freetown devised the scheme. Somehow they learned of a deposit of diamonds deep in the jungle. It doesn’t matter how they learned of it, only that they did. Consequently, they set up a mine to operate in secret—presumably to avoid all fees and excise and any government intervention. Also so they could use slave labor, thus increasing their profits.”

“That much seems clear,” Robert said. “We know that Muldoon, the naval attaché, and a man named Winter, who has access to mining equipment and supplies, are two of the three instigators.”

“And the third,” Declan stated, an edge to his tone, “is someone on the governor’s staff, but as yet, we don’t have a name.”

Royd nodded. “Initially, Lady Holbrook was a player in the scheme—whether by choice or under duress is immaterial as she’s taken herself out of the picture.”

“Just as well,” Edwina muttered direfully.

“In order to establish the mine,” Royd continued, “the instigators needed capital, so they contacted people willing to finance illicit ventures. The captives call that group ‘the backers,’ and there are several of them—how many we don’t yet know. The backers are most likely in England, and they are the ultimate perpetrators, as it’s unlikely the scheme would have come to anything without their support.”

He paused, then went on, “Dreaming up villainous schemes is not a crime. Putting them into action is, and enabling such an action is equally a crime—arguably a greater one. As the backers are presumably wealthy men well able to finance such a scheme, it’s likely the bulk of the profits is flowing to them—which is raising the ire of the government, for various pertinent reasons.”