“They’d probably think outmaneuvering the British navy would be great sport,” Eric said.
“Perhaps,” Stephan replied, “but what concerns me more is someone wanting that reward.”
Eric raised a brow. “You think one of your men would be a turncoat?”
Stephan shrugged. “A thousand pounds is a vast amount of money to someone scratching out a mere existence every day.”
“Aye. I suppose you are right,” Eric said, “although the fishing crews will not be happy. Their share of the takings increased their wages.”
“I can do nothing about that for now,” Stephan answered, “but increase each man’s share of the fish hauled in. That should help a bit.”
Eric nodded. “That is generous enough.”
“Perhaps not as lucrative as dividing the spoils, but at least their heads will remain on their shoulders,” Stephan said.
“Or rotting in the damp cells of Newgate,” Eric responded.
“I will send a missive to my contact in France explaining the situation and ask him to still keep us informed. I know another shipment is coming through shortly after this one, but we’ll have to let it pass. Once this regatta is over and I am home in Kent, we can review the matter.” Stephan stood and put two pound notes on the table. “I had better get back before I am missed.”
Eric stood, too, and accompanied him outside. They both squinted at the bright sunlight. “John and I will stick around for a day or two and let you know if the authorities sniff out anything.”
Stephan nodded. “What we really need right now is a diversion of some sort.”
Eric grinned. “Perhaps it’s time for the Midnight Marauder to put in an appearance?”
Stephan paused. Since the night he’d stopped Caroline’s carriage and experienced that surprisingly lusty kiss, he’d lost his appetite for waylaying debutantes—or any other woman for that matter—but Eric was right. Such an event would turn attention away from the pirate raid. It would also give the small crew Eric had brought with him something to do besides create trouble in the local taverns. “There are still some late arrivals expected in a day or two for the actual regatta and ball afterward. The men can lie in wait for one of them.”
Eric nodded. “I’ll send a man to Crawley to find out if any carriages are headed this way.”
“Good idea,” Stephan said. “Let us hope there are.
…
Lord Tisdale stepped into the recess of a doorway across the street from the tavern and watched as Stephan and a Nordic-looking blond man exited. The man looked vaguely familiar, although Alfred couldn’t place him. From his tanned face, it appeared he spent a great deal of time outdoors. He wasn’t dressed as a seaman, but then Newhaven didn’t have a large port.
Since Prinny’s announcement two nights ago, Alfred had been giving more thought to the piracy that was going on. The ship that had been raided at Dungeness Point had been on its way to Hastings. Hemsbroke had wanted Alfred to be there to meet the ship, but luckily the prince’s house party had taken precedence.
This latest interception had piqued Alfred’s theory of whether the Marquis of Kendrick was somehow involved. Kendrick hadn’t acted concerned over the incident nor had he taken part in the conversation regarding the speculation of it. But then, they’d all been busy with sea trials the past two days. Alfred had kept an eye on Stephan’s boat, since his captain wanted to assess the competition. Alfred also wanted to see if loosening the cleats was beginning to work. Besides that, it was a way to determine if Stephan had a rendezvous with another boat at sea. Nothing had turned up, but when he’d ridden out this morning, Alfred had decided to follow him.
The men parted ways. The blond man went in the direction of the docks to the small schoonerWave Rider. Alfred had noticed it in port earlier.
Kendrick headed west, apparently back to Brighton. Alfred followed at a discreet distance. It appeared that Lord Kendrick had ridden to Newhaven for the express purpose of meeting with the Viking-looking man. This was information Hemsbroke would want to know. Alfred would send a messenger immediately.
But who was the Viking? And why had he met with Kendrick?
Chapter Twelve
Stephan strained his ears at the faint sound of horses’ hooves clopping along the north road from London. Eric’s scout had returned earlier with the news that Danworth’s ducal carriage had spent the past night at an inn at Crawley.
Stephan looked at the nearly full moon rising over the horizon. Once it was up, it would provide enough light that they wouldn’t have to worry about lanterns. He squinted at the road again. It was nearly a full day’s ride from Crawley to Brighton. The duke should be arriving soon.
What an ironical boon that this carriage belonged to Lord Danworth, the man who’d jilted Caroline in order to marry Amelia Stanton. He had met her once at a dinner Alexander had hosted when Amelia had still been Alexander’s betrothed. That event had taken place shortly after Devon had drowned and Society had looked askance at Stephan. Amelia had not deigned to look at him at all. She’d been far too intent on sinking her delicate little claws into Alexander’s brother, George, and securing the role of duchess.
“How many do you think will be in his guard?” one of the men asked.
Stephan turned to see who’d asked the question and then grinned. Alfrigg was Eric’s younger brother and always spoiling for a fight. This was the first time he’d come along on one of these missions. “Probably no more than four.”
“Four?” Alfrigg looked disappointed. “I could take four on by myself.”
