Page 92 of Never a Duke
“The bright fellow is a duke,” Ned said. “Found him wandering the common wards at the stone jug. It’s a long story, but if His Grace of Walden takes a notion to investigate corruption, then eighteen committees and forty-seven milords will soon be bleating about the need for reform.”
“All very well,” Rosalind said, “but what about my maids? Is it too late for them?”
The men exchanged a look she could not decipher, but clearly, they expected Ned to answer her question.
“Let’s find out,” Ned said. “Artie, ask mine host when the next transport ship is expected to sail.”
The boy darted off, the dog trotting at his heels.
“The convicts are typically taken to the hulks to await a transport ship here or in Portsmouth,” Ned said. “The swap will take place as the convicts are rowed out from the hulks to the transport ship. Once aboard, there will be no retrieving them. The ladies have been taken somewhere, but the question is—”
Artie barreled back into the room. “Transport ship over at Deptford has been taking on supplies for the past fortnight. TheTantalusis due to sail on tonight’s tide.”
***
“You are wrong, you know,” Walden said, as the ducal coach inched across London Bridge. This late in the day, with the City disgorging hordes bound for Southwark, nothing moved faster than a crawl. Deptford was several miles downriver, and those would be congested miles too.
Rosalind dozed against Ned’s shoulder, suggesting she wasn’t used to imbibing strong ale. Bob had chosen to ride up top with Artie, the better to take in a metropolis that had changed much in recent years. Lord Stephen was on horseback, his preferred mode of travel.
“I am frequently wrong,” Ned said. “Fortunately, my Wentworth relations delight in pointing out my errors to me. I still think you and his lordship should leave this to me and Bob.”
Rosalind stirred, then subsided. She’d agreed to marry him. That miracle, compounded with Bob’s resurrection, had yet to feel real to Ned, but the danger to innocent women facing transportation was all too immediate.
As was the danger to any seeking to free those women.
“I agree with you that her ladyship’s safety could be imperiled by this errand,” Walden said, “but I agree with Lady Rosalind that women facing transportation on top of abduction aren’t likely to trust a pack of strange men brandishing weapons.”
“She is so brave,” Ned said. “Has had to be so brave. Did you know Woodruff isn’t even her father?”
Walden opened a compartment in the side of the coach and extracted a pair of long-barreled dueling pistols, setting one on the bench beside him. He’d taken the backward-facing seat, a show of deference to Rosalind, who kept hold of Ned’s hand even in sleep.
Walden set about cleaning and loading the first pistol. “Jane intimated that the late Lady Woodruff had taken the usual liberties after presenting his lordship with an heir and spare. Thank heavens for Stephen’s preoccupation with fortifying our vehicles. You have a knife?”
“Two, and a sword cane, but Walden, you are too big to pass unnoticed in these surrounds. The docks are for the trades and laborers, humble folk who do not typically reach Viking proportions.”
“You aren’t exactly dainty. What’s your plan?”
“Stephen will stay with Rosalind. He’s armed to the teeth, willing to kill to protect those he cares for, and easy to underestimate.”
Walden paused with the rammer down the mouth of the barrel. “Told you about that, did he?”
In true Stephen Wentworth fashion, he’d made disclosure of patricide into a casual remark. “His lordship’s past needs no further discussion.”
“While yours does,” Walden said. “You told her ladyship that you prosper as a result of charity, Ned, and in that you are mistaken. Take this.”
“Firing a gun will bring half the Royal Navy running to apprehend me for disturbing the peace.”
Walden started cleaning the second pistol. “We might need to summon the Royal Navy, which is when having a duke underfoot will be an advantage. Now attend me, for I will not repeat myself. At no point has my interest in you been charitable.”
Ned was mentally working out the details of freeing women from a well-coordinated team of kidnappers, monitoring Rosalind’s breathing, and wondering if Bob had returned to London for good when it occurred to him that Walden had gathered his courage to make some sort of proclamation.
“I work for my wages now,” Ned said, “but all those years ago, you did not have to drag me from Newgate and take me into your household. That was an act of charity and one that saved my life. I thank you for that.”
“When I met you in Newgate, you had given up,” Walden said. “I know that. Your affairs were in order, and like that Scottish king from days of yore, you had turned your face to the wall in anticipation of death.”
“James V.” Who had lived long enough to know his line was secured by a child then only six days old. “Newgate did not agree with me. What’s your point?”
“Lifedid not agree with you, for which you cannot be blamed, but Ned, you were…” Walden loaded the second pistol. “Honorable, in how you went about your self-destruction. You gave your food away to the other children, left the crumbs for the birds. Then you saw me and decided you had one more little bird to tend to.”
