Page 9 of A Rake's Revenge


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Tisdale tried to hold on to his patience. “And far too frequently. There have been several attacks recently by a ragtag group of pirates who seem to evaporate into thin air, along with the booty. They approach in small, nondescript skiffs like ordinary fishermen—”

“That is what this group did.”

“Damnation, man. What did you do? Welcome them on board?”

“They asked for assistance. They hardly looked like pirates.” The captain shrugged. “At least not until they locked my crew in the hold.”

Tisdale tucked that bit of information away for future thought. If the other ships’ crews had also been secured below decks, that might explain how these pirates were able to just vanish. Samuel Hemsbroke, the man at Rothschild & Sons Bank that Tisdale reported to—and who held a fistful of Alfred’s I.O.U.s—would want to pass that knowledge on to whomever it was that controlled this scheme. He had only been appointed—forced—to be the front man receiving the goods. Tisdale was only too aware of his precarious position. Even though he used an alias while at the Customs House, his identity would be discovered if the authorities had any reason to investigate, and he would be ruined. He desperately needed a source of money—like Caroline Nash’s dowry—to buy his way out of this hell-trap.

There was obviously nothing more the captain could tell him, so Tisdale dismissed him. As he walked in the other direction, he tried to put some semblance to his thoughts. Hemsbroke would not be happy to learn they’d have to find a new ship. How had the pirates knownLa Mer Espritwas carrying the special delivery items?Was someone on the French side of the Channel feeding the information to someone on the English side?

He had intended to use the cognac onLa Mer Espritfor the prince regent’s house party. Tisdale had offered to supply it as a gift—in the past, hehadhelped himself to some of the supply—to integrate himself more fully into Prinny’s circle. Now he would have to come up with equally good quality brandy on his own, which meant he’d have to borrow more money from Hemsbroke. That, in turn, only obligated him further and dragged him deeper into the quagmire of this murky business.

Tisdale cursed his luck as he approached his rented carriage parked on a side street. He needed Caroline Nash’s dowry, especially if he wished to marry off his own daughter Ann. To do that, he needed to keep up the appearance of wealth.

Tisdale nodded to his driver and climbed into the carriage, sliding the curtain over the window to keep passersby from seeing who he was. The prince regent would not be happy to learn of another piracy so close to London. Tisdale didn’t need to be seen down at the wharf and especially not seen nearLa Mer Esprit. He needed desperately to stay in the prince regent’s good graces. If he could find out who these pirates were…

As the carriage moved away from the docks, a thought occurred to Tisdale. The last two interceptions had occurred close to the Kentish coast. The Marquis of Kendrick’s estates were situated right on the water at Whitstable. He was known to maintain a fishing fleet. Half common-born as he was, he was even known toworkthe fleet. Could he be in any way connected with the piracy?

Tisdale smiled. Kendrick wasn’t married. He had no heirs. If he were in any way responsible for what was going on, he would be stripped of his title and productive lands. And, if Tisdale happened to be the man to turn Kendrick in, the prince would look favorably on transferring the marquis’s title to Tisdale. He would be a wealthy man again, and his troubles would be over.

He settled back on the cracked leather squab. Marquis. It had a nice ring to it. All he had to do was prove Kendrick was involved.

Or implicate him somehow. It didn’t really matter to Tisdale which it was.

Chapter Four

“Do you think we really need nine trunks?” Caroline asked her maid Elle.

The bedchamber looked like a cyclone had come through. The bed, as well as the satin-brocaded armchair and the straightback chair in front of the dresser, overflowed with morning dresses, day dresses, tea and evening gowns. A cycling skirt and some sailing attire hung from a door of the armoire, and the floor was littered with a dozen slippers and several pairs of half boots.

“Of course we do,” her maid answered blithely. “The prince regent is hosting the house party. Every duke in the country will be invited, not to mention the rest of the higher nobles.”

Caroline didn’t care if the Royal Dukes of York and Clarence or those of Devonshire or Westminster or even Wellington himself showed up, but there was one duke she hoped did not. The Duke of Danworth, George Ashley. Her former lover. Even though she no longer had any romantic feelings toward the man, she didn’t need him and his Grecian-goddess wife reminding her that she had given up her virginity because she’d believed his lies. This house party was going to be hard enough to stomach with Tisdale present. “I think half this clothing will suffice.”

Elle shook her head. “You will want to look your best! You cannot do that if you wear the same thing more than once. You will be there for three weeks, remember.”

Caroline didn’t need to be reminded. Three weeks of hell. How she would manage to keep that overbearing, pretentious earl out of her hair—better yet, out of her sight and hearing—she didn’t know, but she was going to try her hardest.

“Perhaps if I take only one of each kind of dress and wear them over and over, I will be allowed to come home early,” Caroline said.

A shocked expression crossed the maid’s face, followed by such puzzlement that Caroline almost laughed out loud. The maid had only been in the household a little over a week. Mrs. Sands had procured her from somewhere after Caroline’s father insisted a maid accompany them to Brighton. The girl could not have been much more than six-and-ten and was probably wondering if her new mistress was altogether there in the head.A fact that might be worth contemplating, Caroline thought as she stopped smiling. Bedlam might be a much better place than a marriage bed with Lord Tisdale.

“I am jesting,” she finally said to the still-stunned girl, “but really, I am only the daughter of a knight, and a rather old one at that.”

“But you are betrothed to an earl, Miss—”

“No.” She spoke with such vehemence that Elle’s face blanched. Caroline softened her tone. “I am not betrothed.”

The girl looked more confused. “But I heard—”

“First of all, you must not believe everything you hear. London loves to gossip.” Caroline paused. “Did you not grow up in the city?”

“No, Miss. Near Whitstable. In Kent.”

Whitstable. Caroline knew where it was, but why did the name sound familiar? A moment later it came to her. The Marquis of Kendrick had a country estate at Whitstable. She looked at Elle with renewed interest. “Did you live near the marquis’s estate?”

Elle’s face broke into a smile. “Yes, Miss. My da works on one of his fishing boats. Right kind the marquis is, and generous, too. When a net’s hauled in, the fishermen each get a portion and not just by-catch, either. Lord Kendrick insists the captain allow the cod, haddock, and mackerel to be shared.”