Page 91 of Never a Duke
“But you do not harangue my little brother like that in public, sir, I don’t care who you are. The lady said yes, and her opinion is all that matters. Ned, tell this fancy bugger to sod off, or I will. The Taylor boys don’t tolerate disrespect. That hasn’t changed. Apologies for my language, Lady Rosalind.”
Ned’s grip on Rosalind’s hand became desperately tight. “The Taylor…Robert? Robert?” The silence in the inn became as vast and fraught as the open ocean. “You are dead. I attended your hanging.”
Robert stood a little straighter. “I was sent to New South Wales. Earned my ticket of leave, though it took half my life. I never forgot you, Ned, never forgot how hard you scrapped, how loyal you were. Broke my heart to think I’d abandoned you to the wicked streets of London. Then I come back to find you’re a fine gent, toolin’ around Town in your own coach, and I wasn’t sure you’d want your convict brother calling on you.”
“Your buttonholes,” Ned said, fingering Robert’s lapel. “You finish them counterclockwise and never start in the corners. I have only ever known one person to sew them in that style.” Ned closed his fist around Robert’s coat and pulled him close. “I thought you were dead. I thought…”
A long moment passed while Ned and his brother held tightly to each other. Rosalind fished out her handkerchief while Walden and Lord Stephen looked anywhere but at the embracing siblings.
“I could use a pint,” Artie said, a little loudly and to no one in particular. “And some tucker. This is a nice dog.”
“Have you a private dining room?” Rosalind asked the barmaid as Ned and his brother simply stared at each other, Ned still gripping Robert’s coat.
“Fine notion,” Lord Stephen murmured. “Let’s withdraw to less public surrounds and feed the boy. Could use a pint myself.”
The barmaid dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Back this way. Cost you extra. The dog’s name is Nelson.”
Nelson trooped along with them to the private parlor, where Ned took a place at a settle with Rosalind on one side and Bob on the other. Walden and Lord Stephen appropriated the chairs opposite, and Artie repaired to a window seat, the dog accompanying him.
Was there any greater joy than finding a lost loved one thought long dead? Rosalind could feel the wonderment radiating from Ned, at the same time she mourned for brothers separated so long ago. So much had been taken from them, and yet, Robert had come halfway around the world in the hope that his brother still lived.
No other lady being present, and the gentlemen appearing to have no clue how to go on, Rosalind posed a question when the ale had been served.
“You were sentenced to hang, Mr. Taylor. Was your sentence commuted?”
“’Twasn’t.” Bob blew the foam off his ale and the dog ambled over to lick it from the floorboards. “Ned, you recall Coffin Tommie?”
“Had consumption,” Ned said, “coughed all the time, hence a rather unkind nickname. You switched places with him?”
Robert nodded. “Tommie had a mortal fear of burial at sea, or worse, burial in a heathen land. The whole thing was his idea. We traded clothes, the guards kept mum if they even noticed, and I was hauled off to the hulks at Deptford to await the next transport ship. Tommie got a quick end on the gallows and burial on his home soil. I had no time to get word to you, and I wouldn’t have known where to send a message anyway. Haven’t known where to send a letter, for that matter—assuming you were still alive.”
“How bad was the voyage?” Ned asked.
“The voyage waslong. Took us the better part of a year with layups in Rio de Janeiro and Table Bay. Our captain was a decent sort, and when the first mate realized I could sew, he assigned me to assist the sailmaker. The sailmaker gave me the officers’ uniforms to look after, and when we landed, the captain put in a word for me. I was spared the worst of the hard labor and have my own tailor’s shop in Port Jackson.”
“How did you recognize me?” Ned asked.
“I asked around. The tailor’s boy turned nabob has a reputation in certain circles. Then there’s your walk. You have this half-strutting, half-sauntering walk. You have the same eyes, Ned. You still observe the world from a careful place. You’re a damned sight better looking than I thought you’d be, but we both know what good tailoring can do for a fellow.”
Rosalind watched this exchange and realized she might well have found Ned only to lose him. Banking was a job to him, not a calling, and his only blood kin now dwelled in the Antipodes. Would she travel that far to stay by Ned’s side? Would he give her that chance?
“Neddy has gone thoughtful,” Lord Stephen said. “This bodes ill for somebody.”
“Women are scarce in New South Wales, aren’t they?” Ned asked.
“Scarceputs it mildly,” Robert said. “It’s not as bad as it was twenty years ago, but still…Bachelors outnumber the available ladies by a considerable margin.”
Walden swore softly, and Arthur looked up from entertaining the dog.
“You think the missing maids are bound for transportation?” Rosalind asked.
Ned nodded. “They are young, healthy, comely,unmarried, have no family on hand to object, and they can be substituted for women too old, young, or sickly to manage the challenges of transportation, or for women already married. Some of those bachelors in Botany Bay have significant means, and somebody here in London is being paid handsomely to put the wrong women on board the transport ships.”
“And,” Lord Stephen added, “the women spared transportation are not about to complain to anybody in authority. They are probably told the court has allowed them clemency owing to their age or infirmity, and off they go, remembering the mercy of the court in their prayers.”
“This is corruption,” Walden growled. “Corruption in the governance of the penal colony, corruption in the administration of justice here in England.”
Robert sent him a curious look. “Ned, where did you find this bright fellow?”
