He shifted in his seat as he tried to think of how to explain a lifetime of avoidance and subterfuge in a few short sentences. He cleared his throat.
“Spit it out already. It’s making me itchy just to look at you,” Caleb said.
Marcus huffed a laugh. “Right. Well, you know that I’m, uh...not exactly what I claim to be.”
Caleb tipped his head down in understanding. “Most of us ain’t.”
Marcus nodded. This was true. Most every man on his crew had a past of some kind, and none of them liked to talk about the lives they’d left behind. Some were former naval officers who’d left the service after suffering injuries or witnessing horrors, while others were former victims of brutality in their homelands.
But Marcus... Well, he was fairly certain he was the only one who’d fled a privileged life of luxury.
He tapped a finger on his glass. “You see, there are people coming to town...coming to the ball I sent you word about.”
Caleb nodded. “You think the smuggler will be there?”
Marcus tipped his head from side to side. “The fact that the man picked a cave so close to the old fort...” He frowned at the memory. “Either it’s someone with no brains and too much nerve, or it’s someone with a reason to be near the fort.”
“So you think it’s an officer?” Caleb asked.
Marcus’s brow furrowed in thought. “That or someone who has business nearby.” He shook his head even as he said it. “But what sort of trade would excuse a man for being so close to the fort and the docks at that time of night? It’s not exactly the Port of London, now is it?”
Caleb grunted in affirmation.
Marcus sighed. “For now, I’m assuming it’s someone who lives at the fort. It makes the most sense.”
Caleb nodded. “My money is on one of these officers. They’ve got no good connections and no prospects if they’ve been sent off to a ramshackle little encampment like this one.”
Marcus didn’t disagree, but he knew better than to make assumptions based on prejudice. And neither he nor Caleb harbored much affection for naval officers. They tended to get in the way in their line of business.
He found himself frowning down into his drink once more as he remembered his last glimpse of Minerva before he’d disappeared into the night. He’d looked back once.
All right, twice.
He made a noise low in his throat, annoyed with himself. When had he ever lied to himself? Fine, he’d looked back a handful of times when he ought to have been running away. All for one last glimpse of her.
Now, he wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t certain he could ever erase the image of that sweet fiery minx rushing into the arms of...him. Whoever he was. Didn’t matter, really, because the man had looked like all the other ranking officers he’d known in his lifetime. Clean-shaven, patrician features, and a decidedly arrogant set to a too-small chin.
He sneered at the innocent ale. Oh yes, he’d known far too many men like that one. And not one of them would be a proper match for a fiery lass like his Minerva.
He snorted at the unbidden thought. She was not his anything.
“So,” Caleb said, leaning forward and interrupting his wayward thoughts. “We set a trap and give the thief some rope to hang himself, eh?”
Marcus nodded. That was his thought. He’d made certain that the captain understood that his part in this was to be top secret. No one, not even his highest-ranking officers, were to know that he’d been there to capture the smuggler and glean information about the pirates responsible for the loot.
The captain hadn’t liked the fact that his officers were not above suspicion, but he’d seemed to understand the need for secrecy, at least.
And assuming Captain Jones could persuade his daughter to keep her mouth shut on the matter, he’d be safe enough to try and trap the smuggler again. Drop a hint here, let a rumor spread there... Manipulating greedy men was rarely a hardship. It ought to be simple to keep an eye on those coming and going from the ball, and whoever ran off to steal the booty was their culprit. Easy enough, except...
“What’s the problem?” Caleb asked. His voice, always close to a growl, was tinged with wariness at whatever unease he saw in Marcus’s features.
“There will be some people at this ball...” He eyed his friend with a similar wariness. “Some people who might have ties to my past.”
Caleb’s muttered curse correctly put into words all of Marcus’s fears.
Caleb might not know why his past was securely kept...well, in the past, but he didn’t need to know all to understand that a man’s past could be more terrifying than any physical danger.
And Caleb’s past? It was haunting him like a spectre, ever more so with each passing year. With age came this new understanding of responsibility, not just to nameless strangers who needed his help, or to his crew who counted on him to keep them safe, fed, and hopefully wealthy to boot...but also to his family by blood.
Family who could have their lives ruined if his true identity were exposed. It would not just be a scandal, it would put his brother’s title at risk, and his good reputation. It would ruin his sister’s name and her new happiness if society were to discover that the man they called earl was illegitimate and the true heir had fled his duties to become a pirate.
He shook off the thought.
Worrying about it would not do any good. He’d do best to keep focused on the prize. Once again, his traitorous mind called up an image of exotic eyes flashing with temper.
Not that prize, you fool.
And yet, when he lifted his head to tell Caleb that they ought to focus on the plan to smoke out the smuggler—he saw a vision of her. Again.
Minerva.
Min.
His
