Alicia.
There were slow nods all around. Charles leaned forward, hands clasped. “That’s it—we might not yet be able to see the player, but that assuredly is the game. A. C. is directly involved in trade via some tea and coffee merchant.”
Suddenly needing to move, Tony rose. Crossing to the fireplace, closer to Alicia, he braced an arm on the mantelpiece and looked around the circle. “Let’s recapitulate. A. C. is at the very least a sleeping partner with a merchant who imports the finest tea and coffee. In order to increase profits by driving up prices, he sets out to manipulate the supply of tea and coffee through having ships carrying competitors’ supplies taken by the French.”
He looked at Jack Hendon. “How did he know which ships to target?”
Jack shrugged. “Easy enough if you’re inside the trade. The merchants know each other, and each merchant usually has contracts with only one or at most two shipping lines, and the ships run by each line are listed in a number of registers, none hard to access. It wouldn’t have been difficult.”
Tony nodded. “So he knows which ships to target to make his plan work. With the information from Ruskin, he knows when each returning ship will not be under frigate escort, and thus an easy and vulnerable target for a foreign captain.”
His voiced hardened. “So A. C. arranges for the target ships to be taken, then sits back in London and counts the inflated return from the cargo he’s already landed.”
A long silence followed, then Christian straightened. “That’s how it worked. We need to identify all possible merchants, then investigate which one had safe cargoes to exploit.”
“And from there,” Jack Warnefleet murmured, “we dig until we uncover A. C.—there’ll be some track leading back to him, one way or another.”
The soft menace in his tone was balm to them all.
Christian looked at Tony. “I’ll act as coordinator in the search for the merchant, if you like.” He glanced at the other members of the club. “We can take that on. I’ll let you know the instant we identify the most likely firm.”
Tony nodded. “I’ll go with Jack tonight and confirm that the link holds good—if there’s any ship taken that wasn’t carrying tea or coffee, it might give us a link to another aspect of A. C.’s trade interests.”
“True.” Christian stood. “The more links we can get to A. C.’s trading activities, the easier it’ll be to identify him conclusively.”
The men rose. The ladies did, too, exchanging plans for meeting that evening at the balls they’d attend.
As the group emerged into the front hall, Charles paused beside Tony, his gaze uncharacteristically bleak. “You know, I might have understood if A. C.’s motive was in some way…well, patriotic even if grossly misguided. If he was the sort of traitor who sincerely believed England should lose the war and follow some revolutionary course. But be damned if I can understand how any Englishman could so cold-bloodedly have sent so many English sailors to almost certain death at the hands of the French”—he met Tony’s gaze—“all for money.”
Tony nodded. “That’s one point that sticks in my craw.”
Along with the fact A. C. had cast Alicia as his scapegoat.
Expressions grimly determined, they made their farewells and parted, all convinced of one thing. Whoever A. C. was, the man had no soul.
EIGHTEEN
“TAKE CARE!”
In the crush of Lady Carmody’s ballroom, Alicia watched Kit lecture her handsome husband, then she turned on Tony, standing beside Alicia.
“And you, too. I suppose I feel responsible after pulling you out of the water all those years ago, but regardless, I would prefer not to have to come to some dockside Watch House and explain to the interested who you both are.”
Tony raised his brows. “If we’re caught, it’ll be your husband’s fault—I haven’t been retired as long as he.”
From the look on Kit’s face, she didn’t know whether to take umbrage on Jack’s behalf or be more worried still. When no eruption ensued, Jack, behind her, glanced around at her face. Sliding his arm around her, he hugged her. “Stop worrying. I’ll—we’ll—be perfectly safe.”
Alicia turned to Tony. She fixed him with her most severe look, the one guaranteed instantly to wring the truth from her brothers. “Is he speaking the truth?
Tony smiled; lifting her hand, he pressed a warm kiss into her palm. “There’s no danger to speak of. Lloyd’s is just a coffeehouse—easy pickings.”
She wasn’t entirely convinced and let it show; his smile deepened.
Glancing around at the jostling throng, at the many gentlemen moving through its ranks, looking over the available ladies, he murmured, “I’m more concerned about you. Geoffrey will stay close, and Tristan and Leonora will meet you at the Hammonds’, then Geoffrey will see you home.” He met her gaze. “You face more danger than I.” He added, pointedly, “Take care.”
It was her turn to smile. “If worse comes to worst, I can always claim Sir Freddie’s arm.” And perhaps divert him from Adriana’s side; the baronet remained assiduously attentive despite Adriana’s hints.
Tony grimaced. Jack tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around.
“We’d better go.” With a nod, Jack took his leave of her.
Tony’s eyes returned to hers, lingered, then he released her hand and turned. With Jack, he moved into the crowd. They were taller than most, yet in seconds, neither Kit nor she could see them.
“Humph!” Kit pulled a face, and linked her arm in Alicia’s. “We’ve been deserted.” Surveying Adriana’s circle, she set her chin. “This is far too tame—come on.” She set off into the crowd, drawing Alicia with her. “Let’s find some useful distraction. I don’t know about you, but without it, I’ll go mad.”
Alicia laughed, and let herself be towed into the melee.
Gaining access to the records they sought wasn’t quite as easy as Tony had painted it, yet soon enough he and Jack were flicking through files in the offices above the coffee house, searching for, then poring over the bills of lading lodged for the other ten ships Ruskin had identified and which were subsequently taken.
While he worked, Tony’s mind revisited their logic, their strategies. “The connection had better not be through Lloyd’s itself.”
“Unlikely,” Jack answered from across the room. “As far as I know, they’ve never handled tea.”
Half an hour later, Tony wondered aloud, “In all of this”—he waved at the cabinets ringing the room—“do you think there’s any chance of identifying ships that docked with cargoes of tea or coffee say in the week before one that was taken?”
Jack looked up, then shook his head. “Needle in a haystack. Virtually every ship that passes through the Port of London will have a waybill in here. That’s often hundreds a day. We’d never be able to check enough to identify the ship we want.”
He resumed his searching. “Mind you, we
Tony nodded, and continued flipping through files.
It took them two hours to locate and examine the ten waybills. Then they quietly put the room to rights, eradicating any sign of their visit, and silently retreated from the room and the building.
By the time Tony reached Upper Brook Street, Mayfair was silent, the streets dark with shadows. Miranda, Adriana, and Alicia would have returned home long ago. They should all be asleep in their beds.
Closing the front door, he shot the well-oiled bolts, then crossed the hall. There was no lamp or candle left burning; Hungerford knew him better than that. Quite aside from his excellent night vision, he knew this house like the back of his hand, knew every creak in the stairs, every board that might groan.
At the top of the stairs, he turned away from the gallery leading to the east wing where Miranda, her daughters, and Adriana had their rooms, and headed for the room Alicia had been given, three doors from the
