Page 82 of Any Duke in a Storm

The second man holding the gun snorted, but she couldn’t see his face. “She’s Bonnie Bess, what did you think would happen?” She recognized the voice, though…Madge.

“I’m going to kill her!”

Lisbeth was roughly jostled forward, out of the way of the man she’d carved up. “She’s the captain’s,” Madge said. “Now best go get that stitched up before you can’t hear a word, you fucking twit.”

She was manhandled down a narrow corridor and up more stairs before being hauled into a well-appointed, showy cabin that could only be the captain’s quarters. Lisbeth remembered thinking that Dubois looked like a dandy and that was evident in his decor. The man she wanted to tear apart with her bare hands stood smugly behind a large desk in a smaller antechamber. Her fingers balled into fists.

“I don’t want to have Madge shoot you in the leg, Agent Medford,” he said, sipping from a glass filled with amber liquid. “But I am also not required to trade you back to your people in any specific condition besides being alive. So which will it be?”

She blinked. He was planning to ransom her off? The Treasury would not care, not when Charles Dubois, the Prince of Smugglers, was so close to being finally apprehended. And after the stunt she’d pulled in New York, shehad to believe she was persona non grata. She remained silent and expressionless, her face automatically falling into the blank mask that gave nothing away.

“Check her for weapons, Madge,” he said holding up a pistol, and the man did a thorough search, finding the thin blade tucked into the boning of her corset. “Clever, clever,” Dubois said with a vulgar smirk. “But no need for that. Now that that’s done, please sit.” He pointed to a cup along with some bread, cheese, and salted meat on the desk. “Eat. Drink.”

Lisbeth wanted to do neither, but she had to keep up her strength if she was going to survive this, and if he wanted to poison her, he would have done so already. Gritting her teeth at the discovery of her last blade, she did both, gulping down the water and soothing her parched throat. Her stomach growled as she chewed the bread. He stared at her the entire time, but she ignored him, concentrating on fueling her body.

He waved his pistol and dismissed the other man. “You can go, Madge.”

Madge scowled, doing as ordered, though he didn’t seem to like it.

“Bonnie Bess,” Dubois said eventually. “I can see what my nephew sees in you.” She couldn’t help the raw bolt of pain that punched through her at the thought of Raphael, but throttled her reaction. “And here I thought you were no better than a warm Miss Laycock and not the tool of my exoneration.”

She looked up, not reacting to the vile slur. “You’re wrong if you think I’m worth anything to them.”

“No, you’re right about that, but the idea of a”—he spread his hands wide—“very public incident involving a peeress of England and a covert agreement between two governments is not a palatable one.”

“Incident?” she asked.

“A detailed account of the execution of a very beautiful countess sent to theNew York Timesand the unwillingness of two callous governments to prevent such a tragedy from happening when they were the ones who sent you into danger.”

She scoffed, nearly spitting out a mouthful of food. “That will never work.”

“Public opinion is a powerful tool.” He tipped his glass toward her. “Besides, I have proof. Good thing I kept those incriminating documents of yours, and I have already negotiated the terms of my pardon. One beautiful, wanted criminal for a free me.”

Her chest squeezed.Wanted criminal.Was that what she had become?

“Now, since I am a gentleman, you may stay here or return to the brig. I wouldn’t want your handlers to say I hadn’t taken care of you.” He canted his head as he rose. “The room has been cleared of all weapons, so don’t go getting any ideas in that pretty little head of yours.”

She scowled at him, but he only laughed and left. Lisbeth didn’t wait to canvass the space. As Dubois had said, there was nothing but a lamp on the mantel, and the door was firmly locked. But she wasn’t completely helpless. She reached up to the topknot of her half-braidedcoiffure and pulled her hairpins loose. Unlike the door to the brig that was built with a latch, this one was a keyhole and she could pick her way out of here.

The sealed porthole showed that it was still daylight, late afternoon from the sun’s position and the just visible coastline. If she’d slept overnight and they were traveling at a shade under twenty knots—working on the assumption that this frigate was as fast as hers at top speed—they would be nearing the coastline of New Jersey in a few hours. The Cape May Point lighthouse might still be manned by Jenks’s people. It was her only chance.

Waiting for the sun to go down was torture, but when the shadows lengthened and darkened the inside of the cabin, it was time to work. Lisbeth knelt and worked the hairpins into the lock until it clicked open. She cracked the door, but the captain’s cabin was empty except for the light of a single lamp. Excellent—that meant she did not have to find a lamp. If worse came to worst, she could always burn down the ship and take her chances in the sea. Not wanting to be without a weapon, she grabbed a poker near the unlit grate.

Lisbeth blew out the lamp and tiptoed along the edge of the room to the outer open door. A thickset man she didn’t recognize sat on a stool on one side, cleaning a knife. He was big, but she was fast. Putting the lamp down quietly, she inhaled and slipped out, slamming the blunted end of the poker into his temple before he could even react. When he slumped forward, she let out the breath she’d held.

Retrieving the lamp, she moved stealthily along the corridor to the upper deck. Lisbeth heard voices, but made sure to hide when any of them grew too loud or too close. The cool night sea air hit her as she climbed on deck, staying out of sight. The ship was dark enough to avoid notice. She made her way to the rear to a small overhang on the port side where the jutting ledge would be perfect. She would not have long before she was discovered so she lit the lamp and flashed the sequence, moving the flickering light behind and in front of the ledge.

There was no answering light from the coastline. Had she miscalculated the distance? Or were Jenks’s men gone? No doubt he would have heard what she’d done by now. He would not put his career at risk by aiding and abetting. Panicked, she repeated the sequence and waited to no avail. No one was there…no one was coming.

“Found her, Cap’n!” someone shouted.

Lisbeth shoved the lamp at the man and ran, ducking around a corner and hiding behind a stack of crates. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. There was no telling what Dubois would do if she was caught.Alivecould mean different things. Maybe it was time to swim for it, but right as she judged the distance to the railing and prepared to take her chances with the black, ominous ocean, calcium floodlights lit up the darkness in all directions. She hunched back down.

“Halt and surrender! By the order of Captain Webster of theMahoningand theNaugatuck, you are surrounded!”

Those two gunboats belonged to the United StatesTreasury Department! Lisbeth squinted against the brightness as shots rang out and men screamed, scrambling to escape. Her eyes caught on one figure at the bow of the closest cutter ship, his gaze scanning the deck of her frigate, and she blinked, unable to believe who she was seeing.Smalls.

It couldn’t be him, her eyes had to be deceiving her, but when Estelle came up to stand behind him, Lisbeth almost sobbed. What were the odds? But when the last person she expected appeared, a tall, dark-haired man with a face that never failed to make her heart quicken, she knew it wasn’t luck at all. She’d hurt him…and he’d still come.

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