Chapter 22

22

Two days later…

“What are the two of you doing?”

The voice that came from behind had Calliope turn around sharply to stare into Hazel’s astonished face, her dark eyebrows drawn together in an expression that looked exactly like Nathaniel’s.

Calliope must have been quite a sight. Dressed in Nathaniel’s old, musty-smelling coat, waistcoat, shirt, and breeches, Calliope stood in front of the mirror. The twins were on either side of her, their hands deep under the shoulders of the coat as they sewed little pads with stuffed rags, which was meant to make Calliope appear more broad-shouldered. Her hair had been gathered up in a tight bun and hidden under a round hat Violet had found in a chest with Nathaniel’s old clothes from when he was an adolescent. Even though Nathaniel had worn these clothes when he was fifteen, they were still too long and too large for Calliope.

Calliope gulped. The twins froze.

“Hazel, please don’t tell Nathaniel…” begged Violet.

“Why are you dressed like a man?” Hazel demanded, her frown deepening, her steps stomping loudly.

“It’s for a disguise, why else?” Poppy rolled her eyes and returned to her task of sewing the shoulder pad.

“For a disguise?” Hazel shook her head, her eyes like saucers, staring at Calliope in disbelief. “Are these our brother’s clothes? And he doesn’t know, does he?”

“He doesn’t, Hazel, and please don’t tell him,” Calliope said. “I know you may not like me—”

“So he wouldn’t approve, would he?” she demanded. “Does this have something to do with that man who tried to attack us?”

“It has to do with her looking for her brother,” said Violet as she knotted her thread. “Don’t be daft.”

“How could you get my sisters to help with that?” Hazel stepped closer. “I thought you were supposed to be an educated, intelligent lady. Have you not more sense than that?”

Guilt churned in Calliope’s stomach. “Hazel, I’m not getting them involved.”

“We’re not going with her,” said Poppy. “We have more sense than that.”

“I’m not being daft,” Hazel said through gritted teeth. “On the contrary, I know you both, and I know what happens to your brains when you get some mad idea. And this”—she pointed at Calliope—“is madness.”

Hazel stormed out of the room, leaving Calliope concerned she may have involved the girls too much.

But they told her not to worry, that she looked like a young gentleman, and wished her luck.

She hired a hackney, and thirty minutes later, she was walking down the docks, the moon hanging low in the velvet-black sky, casting its gossamer light onto the port. Infrequent lanterns hanging from the beams of storage sheds and buildings emitted dim light that didn’t reach far into the deeply shadowed streets and alleys. The cool wind off the water ruffled Calliope’s hair at the back of her neck. Ships swayed gently in the port, their masts skeletal against the night. Rigging and pulleys creaked as dark water lapped against the weathered wood of the docks.

The air was heavy with the horrible stench of the river. The Thames always smelled so foul in summer, with the city’s human waste dumped there along with waste from mills and factories. Intertwined with this was the sweet, earthy aroma of barrels stacked high, their contents—exotic spices, rum, and tobacco—brought from far-off lands, waiting to be unloaded at the dawn’s light.

At the intersection of several shadowy alleyways, three bonneted women of questionable reputation leaned against worn brick walls, looking at her with meaning. One of them had her lips painted red, her eyes gleaming as she followed Calliope with her gaze, no doubt sure she was a man. “Lookin’ for company?” asked the woman coarsely.

Calliope shook her head and lowered her voice to resemble that of a man. “No.”

Sailors passed by her, the scent of brine clinging to them like coats. Two dockworkers were still busy at this hour as they hoisted crates onto broad shoulders, their muscles straining under the heavy load. A fishmonger rolled a barrel full of catch by her, the scent of fish so strong, her throat scratched.

A beggar sat on the corner of the street, and Calliope went into her purse and gave him several farthings. “God bless you, lad,” said the old man.

Calliope allowed herself a little victorious smile. She had managed to pass as a lad! Hopefully, by lad he meant a very young and short man…not a boy.

She needed to ask around. Chances that this man would remember something were slim, but who knew?

“Forgive me,” she said, making her voice as low as she could. “Have you been begging here for a long time?”

The man looked at her with his milky eyes, his face wrinkled with age and weather. “Yes, lad, a year at least.”

“Might you remember there were five navy ships docked nearby September of last year. One of them was right here.” She pointed at the end of the docks where there was a large merchant ship. It was docked only ten feet or so away from Portside. “Might you remember its name?”

The man chuckled. “I dunno what day’s today. Can’t recall where I was ten days ago. Don’t know nothin’ ’bout no ships.”

Calliope sighed and nodded. Perhaps she would have a better luck with the sex workers, after all. She went to the one who had spoken to her. Her sizable breasts were very white against her old red frock.

“Changed yer mind, luv?” asked the lady and ran her finger down Calliope’s coat. She smelled of stale sweat and old lavender water, no doubt as an attempt to cover her body odor.

“No, but I have a question for you.” Calliope went into her pocket and fetched a few more farthings, showing one to the woman.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened in anticipation. “What would the young sir like to know?”

“Last year September, there was a raid on Portside. Many men were press-ganged. Do you remember that night?”

The woman pinched her lips thoughtfully. “Coin first.”

Calliope nodded and handed her the coin. “Here you go. What do you remember?”

The woman shrugged. “I saw the raid, right from ’ere.”

Calliope’s heart thumped, and she straightened her shoulders. “Do you remember the names of the ships?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at Calliope. “You’re a pretty lad…” she said. “Such big blue eyes…”

Calliope cleared her throat, forcing her voice even lower. “You’re not the first to say so. Do you remember there was a good-looking gentleman carried unconscious onto a ship?”

“Most of ’em were struggling. Some were knocked out, yes. I saw all of ’em being brought to the ship docked right close.”

Calliope’s pulse thumped in her neck. “What was the name of the ship?”

The woman’s eyebrows rose sadly. “I can’t read, luv.”

Calliope cursed. “Can you ask your friends if they remember?”

The woman winked. “They will all need a coin, luv.”

Calliope nodded and handed her the coins. She walked with the woman to the other two sex workers, but neither of them remembered anything. Disappointed, Calliope gave them more farthings, feeling sorry for the women.

“Thank you, ladies,” she said.

She would need to go to Portside, after all. Worried Nathaniel may be there even though he’d said he had Admiralty business tonight, she wanted to avoid showing her face. But it was the most likely place to find information. It was one block from here, down an alleyway between warehouses. She looked around, but no one seemed to be following her.

She could hear a man and a woman arguing in the distance, and a sudden foghorn from the port made her jump, but the only sound coming from the alleyway was the soft skittering of small creatures. Squaring her padded shoulders, she started walking, careful of where she stepped. She’d made it halfway down the alleyway when a large figure stepped from the shadows, holding a knife that glinted dully in the darkness. Then a second shorter man appeared next to him.

“Well, ’ello there,” said the tall, burly man.

Calliope’s stomach dropped to her feet. A robber.

Her hand twitched to a pistol she’d taken with her, tucked in the back of her waistband. She didn’t really know how to shoot it, but she guessed she could at least threaten them and run away.

“Here’s the money!” she said, about to reach for her money purse.

“We don’t want money, Duchess,” said the shorter man.

“We’re told to cut your wee, pretty face,” said the tall one.

* * *

Nathaniel returned home earlier than he had expected. The last two days and nights had passed in a strange state of mind and emotions he had never felt before…or expected to.

For the first time in his life, Nathaniel was fully and truly happy.

He had been invited to play cards with one of the captains, and he’d hoped to learn something about Spencer in that informal setting. But it had been a dead end, and he’d found himself eager to return home for a quiet night with his sisters and the woman who had quickly become one of the most important people in his life.

He greeted Joshua, who told him everyone was in the dining room, and, whistling, he went there. Only to see three females instead of four.

His sisters looked up from their plates as he strode in.

“You’re early, brother…” Poppy’s face flushed, and her eyes widened. “We didn’t expect you until very late.”

Calliope’s place wasn’t even set at the table.

“Where is she?” he demanded, already taking a step back, ready to run.

“Who?” asked Violet.

“You know who!” barked Nathaniel, fear for Calliope making him raise his voice more than intended. “Calliope, where is she? Why are you lying?”

Hazel crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know where she went, but I know she disguised herself as a man.”

Cold dread showered over Nathaniel. “Disguised?”

“Hazel!” cried Violet. “We asked you not to tell!”

“She’s putting herself and all of us in danger, and you expect me to cover for her?” exclaimed Hazel.

“Where did she go?” Nathaniel bellowed, staring at the twins.

They looked at each other, sighed, and said in unison, “The docks.”

“The docks?” Fear for her corroded his insides like acid.

Nathaniel didn’t need to ask why she had gone to the docks dressed like a man. He let out a foul curse and had just turned to run when Violet cried after him, “I don’t know why you’re so angry with her. If you had disappeared like her brother did, we’d be doing the same to find you.”

He turned to her, fear and anger tying his tongue.

“I think she’s the most admirable woman alive,” said Poppy with her eyes burning. “Thank you for marrying Calliope, brother! I want to be her when I’m older.”

Nathaniel felt like he was going to combust right here, right now, like a goddamn barrel of saltpeter.

“You are not going to be her!” he roared. “You are to stay away from her, from this investigation, and to sit at home and never show your nose anywhere.”

With that he strode out, banging the door with such strength that glass in the windows rattled and the hallway wall sconce tilted.

“Joshua!” he shouted as he hurried down the hall. “Joshua, don’t unsaddle Hermes yet! I need to go to the docks.”

He went into his study and grabbed his saber. Then he ran out to the mews and was on his way, galloping through the streets of London as though he were in a horse race.

There were so many carriages in his way, he had to swerve through them, startling a few finely dressed occupants. Another carriage blocked the road completely, and he was forced to turn Hermes around and find another route. All the way, every time his heart beat against his ribs, he died a little inside from fear for Calliope. Images of her hurt and abused flashed through his mind. There could be a band of robbers…just like that night with his mother.

There were plenty of those at the docks. How could he have allowed this to happen? Let his wife walk into mortal danger like that? He should have never let her out of his sight. He should have never believed she’d stay away from this investigation.

Finally, he reached the docks, passing by dozens of dark warehouses, barely illuminated by lanterns. She must be near Portside, probably asking around about those ships, just like they had talked about. He looked into the faces of sailors, whores, workers, one or two regular gentlemen… He passed by every dark alley, rounded every corner.

She was nowhere to be seen.

“Calliope!” he called, desperation clawing at his heart like a thief. “Calliope!”

He kept trying, his eyes darting from dark corner to dark corner, calling her name for what felt like a hundred times.

“Here!” came her voice from somewhere nearby.

That alley, he thought, and with his heart sinking into his stomach, he jumped off Hermes and ran into the dark alley, unsheathing his saber.

Illuminated only by moonlight were two silhouettes of large men and a third one, slim and short in a round hat. His eyes locked on to the two hulking figures, knives glinting ominously in the moonlight as they made stabbing movements, dwarfing the petite figure that ducked, jumping away and cowering.

Calliope…

Horror grasped Nathaniel’s whole body in its icy cold claws.

“Get away from her!” he roared as he charged at them.

The two large silhouettes froze. Calliope picked up a piece of wood and swung it at the nearest thug, hitting him on the back of his head.

The man grunted and swayed, swinging his arm with the knife, but Calliope evaded him. The man was clearly disoriented, and Nathaniel lunged at him, his sword slicing through the air with a lethal grace. The thug grunted in surprise, his knife skittering out of his hand as he barely managed to dodge the initial attack. Nathaniel pressed on, slashing, while the man ducked.

The second attacker advanced, attempting to seize the opportunity to strike while Nathaniel was occupied with his companion. Calliope swung her plank of wood at him, but he batted it away as if it were a fly, sending it clattering to the stones. He left her alone and advanced on Nathaniel—thank heavens!

With a swift sidestep, Nathaniel evaded the incoming attack, his saber catching the moonlight as it arced towards the attacker. The dull thud of the blade meeting flesh echoed through the alley, and the thug wailed in pain and staggered backward, clutching his arm.

Nathaniel turned his attention back to the first man, who was now trying to retrieve his fallen weapon. With a roar, Nathaniel launched himself at the man, swinging his sword. It slashed towards the thug’s stomach, barely missing it. The thug slashed his own knife across, and Nathaniel counterattacked, but the man was faster. Suddenly, he changed direction, and instead of attacking Nathaniel, he turned away, grabbed his companion by the sleeve and both of them fled.

“Nathaniel, come on!” cried Calliope, who took off after them. “We must know who they work for!”

“Stay back!” he barked at her as he sprinted after them, his lungs burning from running. He had his eyes on the two figures at the end of the alleyway. He was catching up to them, especially the one he’d wounded, who was no doubt in great pain. But just as he was approaching the end of the alleyway, they disappeared around the corner. There was the sound of hooves and of wheels rattling against the cobblestones. And when he turned the corner onto the street, all he could see was a gig disappearing into the darkness.

He put his sword back into its sheath, then stood and doubled over, leaning with his hands against his knees as he caught his breath—not just from the physical effort he had expended but from the shock of seeing Calliope exactly where he had feared he’d see her.

In mortal danger.

Fury mixed with fear was pulsing at the back of his psyche.

He heard the rapid approach of her footsteps and turned to see her, for the first time getting a proper look at her in the disguise of a man. In his old coat and breeches, with her shoulders padded and her hair hidden under a hat, she could be mistaken for a rather feminine adolescent boy.

The sight of her, alive and apparently unscathed, flooded him with a wave of relief.

He straightened his back as the need to hold her close, to hear her heart beating, to breathe in her scent racked his body. He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace. He held her, just letting his body calm down. He’d reproach her later. He knew he would be furious with her, but that would come after she was safe.

For now, his heart beat with a promise. He would always protect her. No matter the cost.