Chapter Seventeen

Draco sat in a darkened corner of the Three Lions that was still empty at this hour but would soon begin to fill up. The hint of smoke from the well-used hearth and lingering aroma of sloshed ale had seeped into the sturdy wooden tables and floor that not even the scented sprigs of juniper scattered around the room could erase. He stared at Sean McTavish seated directly across from him, eager to get through their business and return to Imogen, who—Lord help him—was behaving herself for the moment and keeping to the upstairs guest chamber, but he did not know how long that would last. “Keep your hands on the table, McTavish.”

The Irishman smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “Yes, just as much as you trust me. You’ve posted three men out back on the chance I try to slip away.”

McTavish shrugged. “Just a precaution. I know you are not going to run. What’s this I hear about someone stealing Lord Eldridge’s horse?”

Draco muffled his surprise. “Why do you care about a stolen horse?”

“No reason,” McTavish said, one eye twitching in response. Just once. A quick twitch and hardly a noteworthy reaction, but Draco knew McTavish, and that slight gesture was telling.

For pity’s sake!

Was Imogen right? How could she possibly have figured out the identity of the rebel leader on a mere sketch she had drawn months ago? She was a slip of a girl, not even out in Society yet. She had never even met Eldridge. The entire pantheon of England’s elite rode along Rotten Row, but she had chosen these very men to draw.

It did not matter that the sketch was only one among fifty she had done over the course of the month, but it was there and undeniable. The men must have been passing furtive looks among themselves and immediately caught her attention because of it. Gad, if the Home Office ever caught on to her talents, they would use her artistic intuition as their secret weapon.

As improbable as it may seem, Imogen’s suspicions had to be correct. Otherwise, McTavish would have first asked about his getting shot and not about Eldridge’s horse being stolen.

And now, all the pieces of this puzzle were fitting into place.

Draco knew what he had to do.

He sipped his ale as he told McTavish about Walter, the village sot and all around no-account who had stolen the stallion on a lark and ridden him here. “He discharged his pistol into the window of the local tea shop and then rode away.”

Draco omitted mention of his flesh wound or that he required stitches. His skin felt raw, and those stitches still burned like blazes along his arm. Perhaps he ought to have taken some laudanum for the pain, but it was too late to think of that now.

He also omitted mention of Imogen, who had been seated beside him when the incident occurred. McTavish must have known anyway, for those details would have been told to him by anyone he bothered to ask.

“I found the horse abandoned in a meadow and brought it back to the Kestrel Inn stable,” Draco said, once again keeping as close to the truth as possible. “The local constable found Walter trying to hide out in an abandoned fox den and brought him back here. Walter is now sleeping it off in one of the fort’s cells.”

McTavish frowned. “Why the fort?”

“He stole a valuable horse,” Draco said. “Eldridge is going to see him hanged. Walter has every incentive to escape, and the local gaol will never hold him.”

McTavish took a healthy sip of his ale and then set down the mug. “That’s quite a story.”

“Yes, it is.”

“When is Eldridge due here to reclaim his horse?”

Draco sensed the Irishman’s growing concern about the rebel plot, and he was more than happy to encourage his doubts. “Assuming he comes himself to collect the beast, probably not until tomorrow. Major Brennan sent one of his men off early this morning to deliver the good news. A day’s ride to Thurlestone, and another day to return, is what I estimate. Although Eldridge may already be on the trail of the stolen horse, in which case he will arrive sooner. Perhaps within the hour. Why do you ask?”

McTavish shrugged and then tossed him a mischievous smile. “Maybe I am thinking of stealing the beast.”

Draco laughed. “What would you do with a horse on board your ship? Especially one the size of that Friesian. You cannot carry enough hay in your hold to satisfy him. And nobody is ever going to buy him from you for fear of being accused of theft and being hanged themselves. That horse is too distinctive. You’ll have more luck attempting to sell the Crown jewels.”

“Now that’s an idea worth pursuing,” McTavish said in jest.

Draco leaned forward. “Yes, just as stupid as this rebel plot you’ve got yourself mixed up in. But enough small talk. What is your plan for delivering those crates? There’ll be a new moon next week, easy for you to sail into my cove under cover of darkness. Will your men unload the crates? Do they need assistance from mine?”

“No assistance. We’ll deposit all the goods in your cave. You needn’t be present. We’ve seen the layout. I don’t need you waving a lantern or doing anything to give us away. I know where the shoals are located in your cove and will avoid them.”

“All right. That’s one end taken care of.”

McTavish nodded. “I’ll make the second delivery the following week.”

“I’ve only agreed to the one, so far.”

“C’mon, Draco. Don’t be difficult. There’s only the second, and you will have it precisely one week from the first delivery. Same terms. I bring the men who will do the unloading. You do not need be around. Just keep your people away from the caves.”

“Not a problem. No one ever goes near them. I’ve spread word they are crumbling and dangerous.”

“Good.” McTavish raised his mug to order a refill, then thanked William when he came over to fill it. He waited for William to walk out of earshot before continuing. “Always pays to be polite to the help. Don’t want to attract particular attention.”

Draco gave a snort and took a sip of his ale. “You and your crew have been noticed by one and all. This is a small place, and everyone minds everybody else’s business. The less time you spend here, the better. Now, tell me about the pickup. Whom should I expect? How am I to be paid? Will they need my men to load the crates onto their wagons?”

“Plans have changed slightly. You’ll be contacted by a Mr. Gray or a Mr. Sewell, who will arrange the pickup and payment directly with you.”

“Those solicitors from Exeter?”

McTavish eyed him warily. “Yes, how did you know?”

Draco drained his mug. “They were in the tea shop with their wives when Walter shot out the window. We exchanged pleasantries. So, they are the agents? I knew they were involved but never would have guessed this was their role. They seemed too genteel to get their hands dirty.”

McTavish was now decidedly on edge. “Who did you suspect?”

Healey and Burke, of course.

What had happened to them?

Draco eased back in his chair. “No one in particular. I just never thought it would be these respectable gentlemen, especially since they are here with their wives. Is that not a bit reckless on their part? Or are their wives in it, too? I understand one of them is related to Lord Eldridge.” That was an utter fabrication on his part, but so what? Let McTavish deny it—or better yet, admit the connection and allow Draco to tie up this investigation in a neat bow.

McTavish’s eye twitched again. “How did you know?”

“Ladies talk.” Draco shrugged it off as unimportant, but…blessed saints. So there was a connection to Lord Eldridge beyond Imogen’s crazy intuition. “I’m not going to say anything, mind you. I just like to know who all the players are. You know how I hate surprises. How are Lord Healey and Lord Burke connected to this smuggling operation? Are they still alive? Or did you kill them? They should never have done away with Driscoll on my property.”

McTavish growled and was about to reach for his pistol when he heard the click of Draco’s weapon.

“Don’t even think of moving, McTavish,” he said, aiming his pistol at the Irishman’s gut.

“Bloody hell. Are you a Crown agent, Draco?”

“No, I give you my oath.” It was no lie, for he wasn’t officially on their payroll. At best, he was merely enlisted to provide assistance in this Crown operation. He had not even been given a fancy badge or other official emblem of his service. “But you are into some dirty dealings, and I have no intention of hanging along with you now that these underlings are all suddenly being killed off and Eldridge’s plot is falling apart. How many more bodies are going to be dumped on my property? Where are Healey and Burke now?”

“Listen, Draco,” McTavish said. “You are too much on edge. Has that title made you soft? It is nothing but a hiccup. Driscoll found out what Healey and Burke were doing and tried to blackmail them. Driscoll himself had nothing to do with Eldridge’s business, and I don’t believe he ever had a clue. His mistake was in threatening to expose Healey and Burke’s opium-dealing activities to their families, not realizing they were also involved in Eldridge’s rebellious ambitions. It was the rebel activity they could not risk being exposed. No one knows of Eldridge’s… Well, I suppose you do.”

“Yes, and I am new to this smuggling operation. You are fooling yourself if you think others will not get onto Eldridge soon. Tell me more about Healey and Burke.”

“I have no idea what happened to them. They’re probably in hiding. Eldridge will take care of shutting them up once he finds them.”

“Assuming they don’t talk first. I’m sure the Home Office will be happy to receive them.”

“They’ll be dead the moment they set foot in London. Eldridge is not without influence there. He’s probably put the word out already, offering a hefty reward for the man who silences them.” McTavish leaned forward and folded his arms on the table. “Take this bit of friendly advice, Draco. You had better shut up too. No one is going to shoot you if you stay in line and do as you are told.”

Draco shook his head. “Oh, I think not. Eldridge is going to silence everyone he can along the way, you included. You must realize his plans were doomed the moment Driscoll was killed on my property. I’m sure Driscoll’s friends recognized Healey and Burke. The blackmail will not stop. You cannot start killing them all.” He kept his pistol pointed at McTavish’s gut, hidden under the table, since the tavern was beginning to fill with patrons.

“Put your weapon away,” McTavish muttered. “I’m not here to kill anyone, least of all you. Eldridge can do what he wants. It is none of my affair.” He was about to say more but was startled by the laughter of several men who strode into the tavern.

Draco nodded to them, merely in acknowledgment, for people were friendly in these parts and it was simpler to be amiable and yet still remain aloof. No one was going to approach an earl without his permission.

The place was filling up fast, and Draco was eager to finish their unsavory business. He made sure to keep his weapon out of sight but still trained on McTavish. “I am not going to put it away. Don’t make any sudden moves. Listen carefully, you stubborn clot. Let’s stop the pretense. I am going to save your hide. But you have to tell me all you know before I let you sail from Moonstone Landing.”

“Bloody hell, Lemuel was right not to trust you.”

“I assume he’s the arse who was itching to shoot me that day you showed up in my cove. I wouldn’t trust him if I were you. Just a word of advice.”

McTavish looked around. “Why should I believe you?”

“Then don’t, but you are already worried about him. Your eye is twitching again. Gives you away every time. He’s probably had a few ales in him by now and is boasting to his mates how he’s a lot smarter than you and would make a better captain.”

McTavish sighed. “Maybe he’s right. I’ve grown soft. Why else would I be sitting here with your pistol aimed at me and you already onto Eldridge? I saved your life once, Draco. Is this why you are offering to spare mine?”

Draco nodded. “You were always fair with me. We have dealt with each other often enough to know how the other thinks. You had to be aware I would always protect England. Why did you not object to Eldridge’s using my caves?”

“Since you claim to know me, go ahead and tell me the answer.”

Draco gave it a moment’s thought, and then groaned inwardly. No wonder the Home Office couldn’t tell him what had happened to disrupt Eldridge’s original site. They truly did not know, and believed it was merely a stroke of good fortune when the opportunity to insert him in the rebel plot fell in their lap.

Gad, of course!

McTavish was the reason, purposely sabotaging Eldridge’s operations because he wanted out.

“Eldridge has sucked you in deeper than you like,” Draco said, “and you want nothing more to do with him. But getting out of his scheme with your life intact remained the problem. So you decided to lure me in and hope I would accomplish what you could not…getting you out of his rebellion without his realizing you wanted out. How did you damage his original drop-off location?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not. Then you suggested my caves as a replacement? Bloody arse, you might have mentioned it to me, or asked me first.”

“You would have refused if I were the one to approach you. Yes, I raised the possibility with Eldridge, but also leaked word in the hope that Crown agents would learn of it and enlist you. You are quite predictable in your loyalty to the Crown.”

Draco nodded. “Aye, you’re probably right. Very well, I’ll get you out. You ought to forget gunrunning altogether. It isn’t healthy for you. Blast, we have company.” He glanced at two men who had just walked into the tavern and intended to take a table close to them, giving each a murderous look.

The pair caught his expression and immediately turned around to shoulder their way through the crowd that had now gathered at the bar.

Satisfied they would not be disturbed, Draco turned back to his companion. “What more do you know about Eldridge’s scheme? Where has he been storing his arsenal? Who else is involved?”

McTavish hesitated, then shook his head and sighed. “Will you let me reach into the breast pocket of my jacket? I’m going to withdraw a piece of paper. That’s all it is. Just paper. You will find it useful.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “You were prepared for this day to come.”

McTavish nodded. “I knew Eldridge’s plans would be discovered the moment you agreed to receive the smuggled guns. I know you better than you think, Draco. You are a loyal fellow and never would have agreed to a rebel scheme unless urged to do so by Crown agents. It all went just as I hoped. However, your knowing Eldridge’s involvement surprised me. How long have you been suspicious of him?”

“A while,” Draco lied.

McTavish shrugged. “Perhaps you and I will deal in silks and laces, or perfumes and wine, at a later date. What are your thoughts on gold or diamonds? Tea? Vanilla beans? Salt? Spices? Never mind. You are frowning and taking this all too seriously. We’ll talk again soon. I’ve written out a full list of names and places. You’ll find all you need on that paper. Do we have a deal? My naming names in exchange for my freedom and that of my crew?”

“Yes.” Draco nodded. “Get word to Gray and Sewell that I have agreed to the terms and they are to contact me to finalize payment arrangements.”

“Why? Are we to continue as originally planned? I dare not deliver the goods to your cave.”

“All I need is for you to pretend you are proceeding with the plan. At the last moment, make up some excuse to delay delivery by two weeks. We ought to have everything wrapped up by then. Have you been paid for those guns?”

“I always require payment in advance of each shipment.” McTavish flashed him a triumphant grin. “Sewell transferred the funds into my account just before I came here to meet you.”

Draco laughed. “You always manage to come out smelling like a rose. Just keep up the pretense for these next two weeks so the Home Office can round up the last of the rebels. I’ll leave it to them to discover the whereabouts of Healey and Burke, as well.”

“Assuming they are alive.”

“Well, if they are alive, they cannot stay in hiding long. McTavish, you need to do something else for me.”

“What is it?”

“Do me a favor and dump those guns into the ocean.”

“Sure, Draco.”

By his smarmy smile and heavy Irish lilt, Draco knew McTavish would not do it. Still, he felt better for asking.

They reviewed several more details, then rose to leave.

“McTavish,” Draco said, casting him a warning look. “Your list had better not be a feeble jest. I’ll come after you and kill you myself.”

The Irishman raked a hand through his hair, and this time cast him a sincere but wry smile. “It isn’t, Draco. I swear it on my mother’s grave… And before ye ask, yes, she is dead going on ten years now. The sainted woman would not have been proud of what I’ve become.”

“Nor mine,” Draco admitted, thinking of his own mother and how poorly he and Nolan had turned out. “All right, then, round up your men and sail out of Moonstone Landing as fast as you can. I’ll stall the Crown agents as long as possible.”

“Bollocks, do you have men waiting on your signal?” McTavish shook his head and groaned. “I knew it. Those first two you nodded to earlier as they walked into the tavern? And those other two you chased away from the table next to ours with your glower? Crown agents?”

“You know I am always prepared,” Draco said as they walked out of the tavern, not about to tell him that his assumptions were utter rubbish.

McTavish turned to him. “And what about that Walter fellow you mentioned earlier? He’s in charge, isn’t he? He’s the Crown agent you are working with. Has he been watching us all the while?”

Draco shook his head in mock regret. “You know I am not at liberty to reveal anything.”

“C’mon, Draco. Be square with me.”

Draco surveyed the street and then cast McTavish a sideways glance. “All I can say is this Walter fellow may be something other than you think.”

McTavish’s eyes widened. “Then he is a Crown agent?”

“I am not at liberty to tell you. All I am saying is that he managed to steal a heavily guarded, prize stud from Eldridge’s stable and rode him here despite having at least a dozen Eldridge men on his trail. Think about it. This Walter is very clever. He will have lured you, the solicitors, and Lord Eldridge and his underlings here to Moonstone Landing, where he just happens to have a fully armed garrison at the ready.”

“Blast it, Draco! You could have mentioned this sooner.”

“I am mentioning it now.” Draco strode down the high street. “McTavish, you saved my life once, and now we are even. Don’t forget my warning about that fellow Lemuel. Get him out of here. What you do with him afterward is your business, but I never want to see him in Moonstone Landing again.”

McTavish nodded, and they soon parted ways.

Draco ambled over to the Kestrel Inn stable, where he pretended to chat with Mr. Matchett, but in fact had an excellent view of the tavern and the harbor.

He watched as McTavish walked behind the tavern and emerged a moment later with two of his men. One of them, that troublesome Lemuel, was missing.

Yes, he was trouble, that one.

“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered, feeling a sudden sense of dread. He hurried to the tavern, slipping in through the back door, and had no sooner entered than he heard the smash of a door and a lady’s scream.

Imogen.

Parrot was barking furiously.

Draco tore up the stairs. “Bloody hell.”

Had Lemuel spotted her peering out the window?

Imogen screamed again.

Lord!Was he too late to save her?