Page 4 of How to Court a Rake
The man gave a cold grin. ‘Special emissary? I don’t know about that. But I know what you’re after, eh? When money talks, it’s always a good conversation.’ He reached into his pocket and held up a wad of pound notes. ‘Perhaps this is the paper you’re looking for.’ He stepped closer as if to put the notes in Caine’s hand.
Stepan called a warning, ‘He’s got a blade!’
Caine saw the covert steel the man must have withdrawn with the pound notes too late. How the hell had he missed the motion? He jumped back to avoid the jab that would have taken him in the abdomen, the tearing sound of fabric ripping in proof of how close it had been. Then Stepan was there, grappling with the man. Stepan shook the knife free of the man’s hand. The blade and pound notes fell to the wharf as they wrestled. Stepan took the man to the ground, but they were evenly matched in size and weight. Stepan no sooner had him pinned than the man used his legs to flip Stepan over.
‘Get away from him!’ Caine drew his pistol. Even in the dark at this range, he’d get a good shot at the traitor, one that would disable him, but not kill him, if only Stepan could disengage. Caine wanted the man alive. He had information Grandfather needed: who had hired him? Who was the mastermind behind the sabotage? But there was no chance. The risk of hitting Stepan was too great.
‘Surrender!’ Caine barked. ‘And you will live.’ When all else failed, one could always try reason. Continue to fight and Stepan would knock him senseless given the chance. Stepan had the advantage at the moment, the fight nearing the edge of the wharf. Stepan was overpowering him and the man had nowhere to go.
The man gave a grunt as he scrambled away from Stepan, reaching the end of the wharf. Stepan made a grab for his ankle and missed. ‘Let him go,’ Caine instructed, levelling his pistol. This was the distance he needed for the shot. Just a second more… Damn! The man jumped into the water. Coat, boots and all. Stepan was on his feet, shedding his own coat and tugging at his boots.
‘You’re not going after him.’ Caine raced forward, rapidly scanning the water, looking for a shot. He could shoot from here if only he could see. But the water was dark. ‘I’ll find a boat; we can row after him.’ He gave a mad glance around, but the boatman was gone and for a busy dock there wasn’t a skiff in sight.
‘There’s no time. You said so yourself. We cannot let the man reach the ship.’ Stepan’s pronouncement was followed by a splash.
Caine turned, the space beside him empty. Damn it! ‘Stepan!’ he called, desperately searching the dark water for a sign of his brother. What the hell was Stepan thinking? The water was cold even if it was June. Thirty feet from the dock, he saw Stepan surface and he knew his brother’s thoughts: that he’d outswim a man in a greatcoat and boots, that it wouldn’t be hard to find and overtake him because the man’s destination was obvious—the ship that sat out in the basin, waiting its turn to make its way to the Thames and the open ocean.
‘Stepan!’ Caine called again at the sight of his head, but Stepan didn’t turn. He dived beneath the surface and disappeared.
Damn and double damn, he should have fired sooner. Now Stepan was in the water, searching for a killer in the dark. If anything happened to his brother, he’d never forgive himself. He raised a plea to the sky.
Stay safe, Stepan, until I can reach you. Hold on, I am coming.Followed by,Please don’t find the man.
At the moment, he did not care if the man reached the ship. They would track the ship down somehow and warn the Captain. He cared only that his brother was safe.
Caine raised his pistol to the sky and fired a shot, hoping Kieran was close enough to hear it above the noise of drays and ships. Then he raced along the shoreline, boots pounding, looking for a boat that would row him out to the last place he’d seen his brother, praying that they would find him.
Chapter Three
They found the traitor’s body at dawn, aided by the first light of morning. ‘That’s him,’ Caine confirmed, toeing the bloated and bloodied body with his boot where it lay on a stretcher. Kieran and Luce were with him, all of them wet and cold, furious and worried, after a night in rowboats trolling the docks. They had the traitor, but they had no idea where Stepan was.
Caine turned from the body, his anger evident as someone came to cover it up and bear it away. ‘He was the last person to see Stepan and he’s dead, so there’s no help there.’
‘How do you reason that? He was in boots and a coat. He could have simply drowned,’ Kieran asked as the three brothers moved away from the crowd of assorted constabulary.
‘There was a knife wound on his arm. It wasn’t from their scuffle on the dock.’ The bruises, the black eye, they were all from the fight. But not the knife wound. ‘Stepan had his blade with him.’ He rubbed at the space between his brows, pushing back against the frustration welling within him, the helplessness, maybe even at the very real memory he had of his brother taking the knife from the saddle sheath at the tavern just hours earlier. ‘I saw him strap it on.’
‘Which meant,’ Kieran said slowly, ‘that Stepan found the man and they fought.’ Caine gave a grim nod. It was the last that was worrisome. The fight had ended in at least one dead man. He hoped not two. When he’d offered up his prayer that they find Stepan, he should have been more specific. That they find his brotheralive.
‘Perhaps he swam out to the ship,’ Luce suggested. ‘If he was tired, or hurt, or even directionally confused in the dark, unsure of where shore was, he would have headed for the ship.’ It was a good idea, a hopeful idea. Caine managed a small nod at his youngest brother. Luce had been impressive tonight in organising a small fleet of boats to comb the harbour.
‘I will check again with the ship’s Captain.’ Luce stepped away with purpose in his step. Caine understood Luce’s need to do something, to feel useful. It kept hope alive. Thinking there was something yet to do or to try was the manifestation of optimism in the face of crisis. To simply walk away, to give up, was to admit the search was over. And if the search was over, it meant the unthinkable had happened. That Stepan was dead.
‘He has to be out there.’ Caine looked across the water to where the ship still sat at anchor. The sailing had been postponed in light of the growing situation. It would sail tonight though, the delivery couldn’t be delayed any longer, and it would sail safely. In that regard, the mission had been a success. ‘What do you think, Kieran?’
Kieran shook his head and scuffed his boot on the dock. ‘I don’t know whattothink. Stepan would have sent word by now, he knows that’s protocol.’ Kieran sighed before stating the obvious. ‘He’s not sent word, which means he can’t send word. Best case, he’s unconscious somewhere. Knowing him, he’s washed up in some pretty girl’s bed and is recovering on feather pillows and linen sheets.’ Kieran forced a chuckle.
‘Or worst case—’ Caine caught Kieran’s gaze ‘—he’s dead, sunk to the bottom of the pool, or washed down the Thames. I can’t imagine it though. He’s a strong swimmer.’
‘Skill doesn’t matter if one is unconscious,’ Kieran argued gently, putting a hand on Caine’s shoulder in commiseration. ‘I can’t imagine it either, though.’
They stood in silence, waiting for Luce to return. Caine knew he had to make a decision. They could not justify lingering here much longer with no new developments to support waiting. Luce approached with a shake of his head and Caine felt as if the last spark of hope had been snuffed out. ‘No word.’
‘Then it’s time to go.’ Caine looked each of his brothers in the eye, offering them his strength. They all knew the implicit message behind this choice. ‘Grandfather will be waiting.’ England would be waiting. Democracy was safe for now; England’s private support of Greek independence was safe. If it came to it, would it be worth the price of a good man’s life? Hisbrother’slife?
Caine watched the reality of the situation hit Luce. For a moment, his brother’s features threatened to crumble, disbelief became a shadow in his eyes. Caine willed himself not to look away, to let his own sternness lend Luce the fortitude to conquer the despair.
Not here, not now, he coached Luce silently.Show nothing of your feelings to these people around us. We don’t know who is watching. Give away no weakness.
