Page 94 of Never a Duke
“We are wasting time,” Walden muttered.
“Mr. Taylor,” Rosalind said. “Give me your cravat.”
To his credit, Ned’s brother complied without protest. Rosalind took the two yards of wrinkled linen and fashioned it into a sort of turban.
“Artie can come with me,” Rosalind said, “and I will scold him so unrelentingly that nobody comes near either of us. Other than my missing maids, what exactly should I be looking for?”
“Look for theTantalus,” Ned said, his gaze on the many ships at anchor mid-river. “Listen for any mention of it. It’s out there in the Pool somewhere, not very far from shore. But Rosalind…”
Rosalind loved this man and loved very much that he’d take on the challenge of freeing kidnapped women, but she also loved him enough to be honest with him.
“Ned Wentworth, if you tell me, ask me, or suggest to me that I should get back into that coach and wait for you to take on this entire challenge alone, I will be disobedient. I am safer with Arthur’s escort than you are dressed in your Mayfair finest and looking ready to break heads.”
Arthur took a knife from Lord Stephen as casually as if he’d been passed tuppence. “Better listen to her, guv. She can argue all night, and then where will we be?” The knife disappeared inside Arthur’s jacket.
“The lad has a point,” Mr. Taylor said. “And if her ladyship does reconnaissance to the north, I’ll amble along the docks to the south. I’d say, based on the crowds, that the transportees will be rowed out from that pier there.”
A knot of women and children stood along one of the many wooden piers jutting into the river. They were humble folk, some were in tears, and most of the children were silent and glum. Bundles sat along the edge of the dock, a last gesture of hope for the well-being of the convicts.
“Arthur,” Rosalind said, taking up her reticule. “Let’s be off, shall we?”
Artie skipped ahead, adopting the posture and attitude of a younger boy, and making it look convincing.
“Your gait should be a trifle uneven,” Lord Stephen said, “as if you’ve tromped the whole way here from the City, miles of hard walkway, noise, and crowds, and you’ll do the reverse journey again before the sun rises. That boy wears you out, and you are nearly too tired to eat.”
“But you love him,” Ned said, “so you don’t lose sight of him.”
Walden looked amused at all this theatrical advice.
Rosalind kissed Ned’s cheek. “I love you.”
She made an exit worthy of Mrs. Siddons—she hoped—trailing in Arthur’s wake along the narrow street. The stink of the river was strong, or perhaps it was the stink of the hulk beached a hundred yards down the shore.
“How ye going to do this?” Arthur asked, picking up a stick and thwacking at the cobbles. “Can’t just storm the transport ship and demand hostages, can ye? Not even Walden could pull that off.”
The how of the whole business wanted thought. “The convicts are rowed out in batches to theTantalus?”
“Aye, and the shore party waves and cries and makes sure they each have a bottle and a loaf of bread. What’s a single bottle going to do when the journey takes months?”
The bottle held spirits, also hope and good wishes. “Who does the rowing?”
“Tars or marines. The transport ships use both. The men at the oars won’t be armed, but they can wield the oars like clubs.”
A melee wouldn’t do. The numbers alone made that approach untenable. By the time Ned, Walden, Lord Stephen, and Bob had been taken to anybody in authority—assuming they could still stand upright—theTantaluswould be long gone.
“Stealth is what’s needed.” Stealth and possibly a distraction. “Can you swim, Arthur?”
“No, milady, and I don’t aim to learn how. Lord Stephen swims. He rows, he rides horseback. Anything that don’t bother his knee. But the Thames will kill ye, as is known to all. Water is foul.”
All too true. The river was the sewer of first resort for most of London.
Rosalind had chosen a path along the quay that took her in the direction of the looming ship that served as a dry-dock prison. Ragged men waited in a silent group, as did an equally grim group of women. Armed guards stood about, gaze on the river.
“Poor sods,” Arthur murmured. “So glad to be shut of that hulk they probably look forward to being under sail.”
The silence and stillness of the prisoners was at variance with the activity and bustle on shore generally. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and the ships anchored in the Pool were becoming dark shapes impossible to distinguish from one another.
One of the larger ships opened a beacon lantern twice.
