“I don’t see why you even care about these smugglers,” Caleb said.
“You know why,” Marcus said. “They’re a link to someone of power. I can’t leave my crew behind knowing that there’s a villain out there attempting to create a new army of pirates.”
“You don’t know that’s what this man is doing,” Caleb pointed out. “In fact, you don’t even know if it’s just one man.”
“It’s one crew,” Marcus said. “And crews only ever have one leader. And if this new leader isn’t banding together outlaws to create his own legion of pirates, then what is it for?”
Caleb shrugged as he took a sip, his dark gaze focused and seeing far too much, no doubt. “Do you want to hear what I think?”
Judging by the knowing look in Caleb’s eyes, Marcus wasn’t certain he wished to hear his insights. But he’d never been a coward. He could have been called a lot of names, but never a coward. With that thought, he sighed wearily. “What is it?”
Caleb leaned forward and his eyes glinted with amusement. Or the closest Caleb got to amusement. More like mockery, really. “I think you’ve latched onto this new mystery bandit because you don’t really want to leave us.”
Marcus let out a bark of laughter and then sobered as the people nearby turned to look. His job in this town was to avoid attracting too much attention, which was why he’d gone to the captain in charge at the earliest opportunity to put an end to the rumors and the questions before they could begin in earnest.
He might not have been a small-town resident, but he knew how they worked. Just like his men when they were living in tight quarters on the ship, it was gossip and scandal that kept them entertained. He’d fed the captain a story to tell, about how he was an old friend visiting the family.
Marcus was all for entertainment, and he’d never deprive anyone their amusement, but he couldn’t afford to have mainland folks questioning the identity of the new privateer in town.
Not even Caleb knew the whole reason why. Oh, his second-in-command no doubt guessed, or at least he had his theories, but he knew better than to straight out ask.
No man who made a life on the open seas was foolish enough to pry into his fellow seaman’s secrets.
Caleb was nodding, smug as could be as he took another swig of ale. “That’s right, Captain. It will be ‘just one more mission’ until we toss you overboard to feed the sharks.”
Marcus laughed at his friend’s jest. Though, he wasn’t too far off the mark. He wasn’t terribly thrilled at the prospect of settling down to a life on land. He supposed living a proper life just wasn’t in his blood. But he was pushing his luck with each passing day, and he knew it.
Anytime he set foot on land he felt like he was on borrowed time. One wrong word, one person from his past seeing past the beard and the weathered skin. One man to see the resemblance he bore to a certain heir to an earldom who’d been lost at sea.
He groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.
“What is it?” Caleb asked.
Marcus sighed as he shook his head. How to explain the latest in a long line of disasters? First the easy capture of a smuggling rat had been interrupted, then he’d lost his chance to make a quick, clean getaway with information on his latest prey thanks to a delightful little minx, and now this...a blasted ball.
The upcoming ball marked his best chance at smoking out those responsible for the smuggling ring, but he’d have to face the bane of his existence. The threat that could end his well-laid plans and potentially destroy his brother and his family while at it.
The gentry.
He avoided Caleb’s probing stare as he scowled down into his half-full glass as though the solution to his problem might be found there. How was he to work his way into the crowds, learn about the townsfolk and the officers, while keeping enough distance that he could not possibly be recognized?
What he needed was someone on the inside.
Captain Jones, perhaps. He grimaced at the thought of it. The old fellow seemed honest enough and more than capable, but his loyalty was to his men, first and foremost. To suspect one of his own wouldn’t even occur to him, and to take the side of an outsider over his own men was even more unthinkable.
He’d met men like Jones before, and he knew their strengths—loyalty, honor—and their weaknesses—inflexibility, stubbornness.
No, that would never work. It was enough that the man was letting him sniff about. And it wasn’t as though he could ask Caleb or one of his other men to try and blend in with that lot. They’d stick out like sore thumbs. Which meant that he’d have to do it. He’d have to slip in and out amongst the gentry there and hope no one recognized him.
Elsworth. The Earl of Elsworth. The name was familiar. One of his late father’s friends, no doubt. He rubbed a hand over his eyes again, inexplicably exhausted at the thought of the intrigue and danger to come.
“What is it, mate?” Caleb finally asked. “What has you so shaken?”
The peerage. He winced. No, there was no way his long-time friend could understand that even after taking up arms against some of the cruelest criminals of the open seas, he was thrown by the thought of seeing members of the ton.
But Caleb was waiting for an answer and he’d never been one to lie to his friends. Evade their questions? Yes. Deflect questions with a joke or an anecdote?
