Page 189 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Oh, that is just a pseudonym I use for my less-than-lawful activities. My true name…” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a whisper as he approached Lachance’s ear. “…is Mister Rikkard Ambrose.”
The Frenchman hadn’t flinched at the sight of the knife. He hadn’t blinked when faced with heavily armed pirates. But the moment those words left my husband’s lips, Lachance’s face went white as a sheet.
“Y-you…you c-can’t be…”
“Indeed I can.” Leisurely, Ambrose started sliding the knife over the front of Lachance’s lace shirt. “So, you understand why I might beveryinterested in your employer’s name. Why I might beveryinterested in discovering who sent a saboteur aboard my ship, made me shipwreck, and almost killed me in the process.”
And my wife and child.
The words remained unsaid. He would not risk speaking them while I still remained incognito—but I could see them in his eyes, blazing with cold fury.
“I-I assure you, Mr Ambrose, I had nothing to do with that! That was organized by another agent who—”
“How much?” Mr Ambrose cut him off, quite literally. The blade of the knife rested against Lachance’s neck. “How much is Dalgliesh paying you?”
The Frenchman blinked. “Who?”
Mr Ambrose studied the Frenchman’s face for a long moment—then he glanced over at me, who had been doing the same. I nodded.
“So…it really wasn’t him.”
I frowned. “But I thought you told me once that Dalgliesh was your only serious competitor. The only one who could, or even would try to, pull off something like that.”
“Indeed he is.” My darling husband gave a curt nod. “My only serious competitor—within theBritishEmpire.” Abruptly, he withdrew the knife and began to circle Lachance, like a lion stalking his cornered prey. No…not like a lion. Like a hyena. Because a lion’s prey might still have a chance to escape and survive, but Lachance was already a carcass. He just didn’t know it yet. “You know…I found it rather strange from the beginning. British pirates in an area where the British do not have much power or influence? Even their secret backer is stationed on one of the few British colonies out here. But then we infiltrate the manor, meet the man, and…voila, he’s French.”
I felt something click. “You mean…”
“I mean this has been a charade from the beginning. Whoever set this up wanted us to believe an Englishman was responsible. It is well known in the business world that Dalgliesh and I have a certain amount of rivalry between us…”
I snorted in a not-very-ladylike manner. Calling the relationship between my husband and Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh a “certain amount of rivalry” was like saying the British Empire had conquered a few bits and pieces of land here and there.
Mr Ambrose sent me a censorious look for the interruption. “…and it was only a matter of time before someone was stupid enough to take advantage of it.”
“Stupid?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Stupid. For two reasons.” He raised a finger. “One. How do you think Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh, majority shareholder of the East India Company and unofficial tyrant of an entire subcontinent, will respond to being used as a scapegoat in another’s schemes?”
“Oh.” Slowly, very slowly, a devious smile spread across my face. In the background, I could see Lachance’s face grow another shade paler. “Oh boy.”
“Indeed.”
“And the second reason?”
That was when Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but shiver. “How do you thinkIwill respond to this?”
I thought Lachance couldn’t get any paler. I had been wrong. My smile widened. Right now, I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable towards the French.
“Now…” Slowly turning towards our captive, Mr Rikkard Ambrose pierced him with his deadly gaze. “Only one question remains.”
“It does?” I enquired in a faux-innocent voice, playing along.
“Indeed.” He took a step towards the man tied to the mast. “We know everything was planned by a Frenchman. The question is…which Frenchman?”
Lachance’s face was still devoid of colour, but resolute. “I will tell you nothing.”
“Is that so…?”
Mr Ambrose’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally—then he whirled around and strode to the railing. There, he stood, gazing out over the ocean.
