Page 36 of The Moonstone Pirate
Blessed saints.
Was their meeting connected to the Irishman’s smuggling weapons into England for the rebel plot Draco had been assigned to break up?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts that were becoming clouded.
Driscoll would never get off his arse long enough, or ever care enough, to engage in a rebel cause. But he would not be above blackmailing Healey or Burke if he had somehow caught on to their rebel activities. Only something had gone terribly wrong, and instead of collecting his payment, Driscoll had been stabbed.
Draco silently cursed.
Was it possible this murder was connected to his assignment?
McTavish was not due to meet him for several more weeks, not until the end of July. Draco was now worried this murder would scare him off. Worse, did he, Healey, and Burke now think he was somehow involved in Driscoll’s blackmail plot? He and McTavish got along well, but being a privateer was a rough business, and the Irishman would kill him if he thought Draco was in league with Driscoll.
He groaned inwardly. This was getting too complicated.
“Draco, what is wrong?” Imogen asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.
“I’m not sure yet.” Why could he not be dealing with a simple murder, an angry husband seeking revenge? Find the proof, arrest the husband. Murder solved. But no, this was turning into something more intricate, and others could be killed if he did not handle the matter carefully.
His brother, Nolan, had been an opium eater. It was no stretch of the imagination to believe his friends were, too. Perhaps Driscoll had been involved in smuggling drugs, or had caught on to Healey and Burke smuggling those goods and wanted a cut of the profits to keep silent.
Draco did not believe McTavish himself was involved in any drug-smuggling operation, for he had been quite vocal about keeping away from it in the past. But who was to say he had not had a change of heart and expanded his business to include opium? Then had a falling-out with Driscoll and ordered one of his contacts, namely Lord Healey, to kill him?
Blast.
It seemed far-fetched.
Still, Draco may have been too quick in allowing Hawes, Middleton, and the other wretched lords to return to London. Were they merely Driscoll’s traveling companions, or part of a smuggling operation that involved bringing drugs into England? Were they also involved in bringing weapons in?
Imogen touched his arm. “If you tell me what you are thinking, perhaps we can talk it through.”
“Thank you, Butterfly. I would, but this is not something I dare mention to anyone just yet.” He had to find out more about McTavish’s schooner, discover where it had sailed and the cargo hauled. He needed to find out who McTavish’s shipping agents were. He had to gather as much information as possible before they were to meet.
This gave him two weeks.
It was not enough time to get word to the Home Office and have them send reinforcements or further instructions. Nor was it enough time for Home Office agents to undertake a London investigation and arrest all the rebels involved.
No, he would have to handle Driscoll’s murder, Nolan’s accident—which could have been a murder—and the rebel plot in which this Irishman was involved, not to mention the possible involvement of Driscoll and his friends, and now Lord Healey, all on his own.
But this also meant he would have to question Imogen further and hope she did not catch on to what he was doing.
Well, he could deflect her questions. Was he not trained for this?
He showed her the drawing of the schooner. “Have you seen it in the harbor this year?”
She pursed her kissable lips.
Bollocks.
This was serious, and he could not be thinking of kissing Imogen at a time like this.
“I haven’t, Draco. But I wasn’t paying as much attention to the harbor this year. It could have sailed here. I just don’t know.”
“Do you recall the name of this vessel?” It did not matter greatly if she did not. He would head to the harbor next instead of returning to Woodley Lodge. He no longer needed to show his staff the portrait of the wizard, since Imogen had connected the ring to the man in her drawing, and Draco had recognized Randolph Healey, an old classmate of his.
Healey had been a spoiled, wretched young man who grew into a spoiled, wretched lord. He was always one to take the easy way out, even break the law if it suited his purpose. But running guns and possibly smuggling opium into England were nothing to be shrugged off as misguided endeavors.
This was possible treason.
