Chapter 31

31

Holding Calliope’s elbow,Nathaniel walked her towards the carriage that was waiting on the next street.

Calliope was quiet. So was he. She’d finally found out where her brother was, which meant he could make inquiries at the Admiralty about Concord. They could discuss what next steps to take to recover him. They would definitely need to tell Preston and Richard.

Even though fury with her seethed in the pit of his stomach, he hesitated to reprimand her for leaving the safety of Kelford and putting herself in danger against his instructions. Truth was, she had managed to get that information from Rawkins with her gentle approach…and plenty of money.

Not force.

Had he been alone with Rawkins, would he have been able to get this information?

He didn’t know. He admired her bravery, her courage, her skill. This woman was so fierce she didn’t need him. Didn’t need anyone.

And yet, he needed her in his life like he needed his next breath.

A sleuth…

To all devils, she was right. She would be good at it.

And yet…she may be expecting their baby. She had purposefully put herself and possibly their unborn child in danger. She should have known better.

“How could you do this, Calliope?” he asked.

“No! How could you, Nathaniel?” she cried out. “Abandon me like that in some village I’ve never been before? You put me in exile!”

There was no one on the dark streets around them, despite Portside bustling with patrons. And Nathaniel caught a flicker of movement in the deeper shadows cast by the lantern above the door to a warehouse. Cold unease crawled up his spine.

She was still in danger. He needed to get her out.

“Get into the carriage, now,” he commanded.

“Do not dare bark at me!” she exclaimed.

“Get in,” he said.

Her eyes still wide in shock, she climbed in, her face dark in the dim light of the little lantern over her head. Nathaniel looked over his shoulder, the hair at the back of his neck standing as he had an odd sensation someone was watching him. But at least she was now in the carriage.

“It is almost over,” he said, softer. “We know where your brother was shipped to. We can now track him down.”

She nodded. “We know everything but who wanted Spencer press-ganged—and why. And that may be the most crucial piece of the puzzle.”

He looked back in the direction of Portside. Rawkins was their only connection to the man with the walking stick, who Nathaniel needed to find.

She leaned forward, placing her hands on the sides of the door. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’re right, Calliope. The person who ordered Spencer’s disappearance is the key. And until we find him, we cannot know if you’ll ever be safe. Rawkins is still in Portside, but who knows if he’ll be there next week. We must go back and find out something about that man with the walking stick. Maybe he can remember more about the man’s appearance.”

“You’re right,” Calliope said. “I’ll come with you.”

She had already risen from the seat, but Nathaniel put his arm before her like a barrier, helplessly knowing she’d still probably do whatever she wanted.

“No! I’ll ask Carl to drive around the corner. Please, if you care for me at all, for once in your life, do as I ask and wait in the carriage.”

He may have said it too loudly. Too angrily. But it had an effect.

Looking perplexed, she nodded. That melted his heart a little. Did she care for him, after all? Was he not just a husband to her, the man who had promised to give her freedom once she bore him a child?

A promise he didn’t know if he could keep the way that she needed him to.

He nodded and said softly, “Thank you. I’ll be very quick.”

He walked to Carl and told him, “Take the carriage around that corner and wait for me. I will be back in just a few minutes. Hold on to your pistol. At any sign of trouble, drive. Drive for your life. Save Her Grace.”

The man nodded somberly.

With his heart drumming hard against his rib cage, Nathaniel turned and walked through the empty street. He heard the shoes of the horses clicking and the rattle of the carriage wheels against the cobblestones, going into the distance. Good man, Carl. Then there was the sound of only his boots clicking softly against the road.

He had just turned the corner and could see Portside when he heard a drum of shoes behind him. He whirred around to see six navy officers storming towards him with sabers drawn.

He unsheathed his own saber with a metallic whisper, lantern light flashing off the blade. His body tensed, muscles strung taut, eyes narrowed on the men. The first officer lunged, a swift jab aimed at his midsection. Nathaniel sidestepped, his saber slicing the air where the officer had stood. A grunt echoed in the narrow alley as his weapon met resistance, grazing the officer’s arm. No time to relish the small victory.

The second officer closed in, a large man with a thick neck. He was strong but lacked technique. Nathaniel met him head-on. Steel clashed against steel, ear-piercing in the quiet night. The shock traveled up his arm, jarring his bones, but he pushed back with equal force, his teeth gritted.

Then three officers attacked all at once, their sabers a blur of deadly silver. Nathaniel ducked, rolled, then came up behind them. He split his focus, anticipating and calculating their attacks. His saber parried one strike, and he kicked another officer in the stomach with his boot. But the rest of them kept charging at him. He continued slicing, hitting, whirring. But he simply didn’t have the strength to fight all of them at once.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of metal. The saber came swinging down, handle first. He tried to evade, but his body didn’t respond in time. Pain exploded at the side of his head. The world tilted, and darkness encroached his vision.

He tasted the iron tang of blood in his mouth. His knees hit the cobblestones hard. Then, the darkness swallowed him whole. His last thought was of Calliope, and the promise he’d made to keep her safe.

Nathaniel slowly blinked open his eyes through a skull-crushing pain that clamped around his temples in a viselike grip. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, each throb echoing like a heavy, distant drumbeat.

He was sitting somewhere, his arms tied behind his back. A slightly musky, briny scent permeated the air—tar, wet wood, and old canvas. Rough-hewn planks were beneath his boots. Dust particles danced in the sparse shafts of moonlight piercing the high, narrow, grime-covered windows, but the dim light didn’t do much against the darkness and many shadows.

Stacked high against the walls was an organized chaos of barrels, crates, and bundles. Rope, coils of tarred hemp, lay haphazardly beside bolts of sailcloth, their fibrous textures standing out in the muted light. Copper nails, destined for ship hulls, glittered dully in wooden bins.

He must be still in the docks.

Is Calliope here? Please, no!

Frantically, he looked around himself, but his gaze halted when he saw seven figures standing and watching him from the shadows.

Then a familiar figure stepped forward, sending a visceral shock through Nathaniel. It was like the ground beneath him cracked and gave way. Admiral Langden? A rush of memories—shared confidences, mutual support, and countless moments of camaraderie—flooded Nathaniel’s mind, making the present moment even more inconceivable. A cold, queasy sensation settled in the pit of his stomach, as if he’d swallowed a stone of betrayal. Every ounce of trust he had vested in the man, who had been more like a father than his own, now seemed a cruel joke, and the weight of the truth threatened to crush him.

The rest of his attackers also stepped forward from the shadows, making a semicircle around him.

Nathaniel looked at their faces, but he didn’t know any of them. They didn’t even look like real officers, just thugs wearing uniforms, with rough scars on their faces, untrimmed beards, tangled hair. The uniforms fit poorly, either too big or too small.

Please, let them not have Calliope! They’d never wanted him; they’d always tried to stop her.

Nathaniel jumped up from the chair, but one of them hit him in the face while two others darted to hold him down.

“Nathaniel, my boy,” the admiral said. “Respectfully, I must ask you to stop digging around the disappearance of the former Duke of Grandhampton.”

Nathaniel’s mind raced. He could ask why Langden was doing this, how he could betray Nathaniel like this, if the memory of Nathaniel’s father meant nothing to the man…

But he had a more important question on his mind.

“Where’s my wife?” he rasped.

“The beautiful, if bothersome, Duchess of Kelford is safe,” said the admiral. “For now. Her continued safety will depend on your cooperation today, friend.”

Nathaniel scoffed. “You attack me and threaten my wife and then demand my cooperation, friend?”

Langden’s face straightened into a serious mask, any traces of his usual kindness gone. “I never knew you would become entangled in any of this, Nathaniel!” he barked. “Were it anyone else and their wife, they’d long be dead.”

Nathaniel’s gut squeezed. Had he ever truly known this man? “Well, you certainly fooled me with your act.”

Langden sighed. “I’m doing you a favor, believe it or not. I’m asking you to cooperate, showing myself to you as the last resort. I have tried everything to persuade the duchess and yourself to stop…but nothing helped.”

He had tried everything… Nathaniel’s mind flew, remembering all the moments of terror as he saw the dried flowers being delivered to Calliope, the man with the knife attacking her and his sisters in the middle of the day in Mayfair, the thugs trying to harm Calliope in an alley at the docks, his sisters trying to fight off the intruders, someone watching his house for days, and finally Violet’s wound…

All Langden? He was not surprised or astonished anymore.

He was enraged. “You have known my sisters since they were born. Do you realize Violet could have been seriously hurt because of you? As it is, she will bear a scar.”

Langden sighed and shook his head mournfully. “I’m sorry for little Violet. Truly. This was never supposed to lead to such drastic consequences. It could all have been over with the flowers.”

Yes, it could have. If it was about any other woman but Calliope.

Calliope was a force of nature. A storm that may lead to devastation but also brought healing rain and nurtured the earth.

He felt an urge to growl. “All this to hide a duke’s press-ganging. Why? Why did you want Spencer gone in the first place?”

“That does not concern you. Like I said, stop asking questions and leave the matter alone.”

“You were the one that issued the press-gang order. But I don’t remember you owning a walking stick with a walrus-ivory emblem.”

The admiral’s jaws worked. “Nathaniel. What you don’t understand is that I’m on your side. If I wanted you or your wife dead, you would be. I’d like to resolve this so that you don’t have to die.”

To Nathaniel’s surprise, the admiral didn’t look like a victorious villain. He looked like a man who had a dirty job he didn’t want to do.

“And if you promise you will stop digging and stop your wife from digging, I will let you go and you can return to her.”

“Why are you doing this? I’ve never known you to get entangled in despicable business.”

The admiral swallowed hard, his nostrils flaring. “Sometimes you have no choice but to do what a powerful man asks of you.”

Nathaniel knew if he let this go, if he didn’t get answers, there would be no end to it. Calliope would never be free. They would always live under a shadow of fear and uncertainty.

“I know you don’t want to do this. You serve your country. You’re not the man to threaten an innocent lady only because she wants to find her brother.”

The admiral slowly walked to him, boot heels clicking slightly against the floor in the warehouse.

“I know you want to be free from whoever is forcing you to act, just as much as I want my wife to be safe. Who is that powerful man, Admiral?”

Langden swallowed hard, indecision behind his eyes. Then he looked at the thug who had stood by Nathaniel’s side and gave him a curt nod. The thug hit Nathaniel in the stomach, knocking the air out of him, pain bursting through his insides. Nathaniel doubled up, gasping for breath.

“I told you I will not have you ask any more questions,” said the admiral coolly. “Either you give me your word of honor, in which case I’ll leave you and your wife alone. Or I will need to have one of these men kill you. Which will it be, Your Grace?”