Of Noble Birth (4 page)

Nathaniel’s smile turned cold as he let the
hostility that smoldered inside him show in his eyes. “Considering
your vulnerable situation, I’d certainly be careful who I called a
fool, Captain—”

“Merriweather. Captain Thaddaeus C.
Merriweather, and I’ve likely been sailing since before you were
born.” The old gentleman opened his mouth to say more, then clamped
it shut again, obviously struggling to contain the emotions that
occasioned this unwelcome boarding.

“I am Dragonslayer,” Nathaniel replied. He
was tempted to chuckle at the name, but he could hardly identify
himself. Sobering, he scanned the faces of the
Nightingale’s
crew once again. He didn’t want any
surprises. Captain Merriweather behaved like a proud old tar, and
his men, collectively a hodgepodge of whiskers, tattoos, and
handmade clothing, looked almost as tough. Nathaniel wondered how
they would have reacted had passengers and their attendant baggage
not been a consideration.

“I’m glad you were sensible enough to
surrender before there was any loss of life or limb,” Nathaniel
said. “Especially because I mean no harm to your passengers or your
crew. That is to say, we will harm no one as long as you
cooperate,” he clarified, liking the old man in spite of himself.
Obviously a relic from the old school, Merriweather cared about
duty and honor. Men like him were entirely too rare.

Captain Merriweather’s chest expanded as if
to draw one last breath before hearing the worst of it. “Providing
your requests are within reason, we’ll cooperate,” he said
reluctantly.

“Your destination is?”

“Liverpool.”

“As I thought. Your men will stand aside and
keep all passengers out of the way. Some of my crew will board and
unload what we can carry of your cargo. When we have what we want,
we will leave. Peacefully.” Nathaniel gave the man a benign smile.
“You will then be free to repair your ship and continue on your
way. And of course, to carry the tale of our visit to your
benefactor, the most fearsome and noble Duke of Greystone.”

Surprise lighted the old man’s pale blue
eyes. “How did you know who owned—”

“I make it my business to know,” Nathaniel
interrupted. He turned to Richard. “Send the signal.”

* * *

On the deck of the pirate ship, Nathaniel
braced against the roll and pitch of the waves, listening to the
hoots and hollers of his crew as they celebrated their victory. Rum
flowed freely among them as first Richard, then his brother John,
toasted everything from the speed of the
Vengeance
to Nathaniel’s estranged father, the very
nobleman they had just confounded.

Nathaniel shook his head when Trenton
brought him a mug. “Nay, I’ll not ask for a throbbing head come
morning,” he laughed. “I’m sure the rest of you will drink enough
for me.”

“Come on. ‘Tis only our third ship.
Certainly you’ve got a bit of celebrating left in you.”

Nathaniel smiled and relented, taking the
proffered cup. “To future successes,” he said, and another cheer
burst from those who heard him.

“To Mary. We owe what success we’ve had to
her,” Richard added.

Lifting his cup high, Nathaniel took a long
sip of the warm brew, then reached out to stop Richard before he
could volunteer yet another toast. “Speaking of Mary,” he said to
the burly, redheaded Scotsman, “when do we learn the position of
our next target?”

Richard’s freckled face took on a mournful
pout. “Ah, Mary. I’m afraid the lass is being a wee bit
stubborn.”

“What do you mean?” Nathaniel asked in
alarm. “You said she’d do anything for money.”

“Och, well.” Richard looked longingly into
his drink, as though reluctant to be sidetracked at this particular
juncture. “Now she claims the money does her little good. She can’t
spend it, or her father will know she’s up to something and give
her a thrashing.”

“Why did you not mention this before?”

“Because I think she’ll still help us. She
just wants something more than money, ye ken?”

“Like what?”

Richard exchanged a look with his brother
John, who had come to stand beside them, before turning back to
Nathaniel. “She wants to meet you.”

“What, does she think I can simply ring the
front bell at Bridlewood and introduce myself?” Nathaniel
asked.

Richard shook his head, apparently taking
Nathaniel’s words at face value. “I’d not ask you to do that. Just
come with me once. That’s all it would take.”

“But why does she want to meet me?”

“She’s heard rumblings among the older
servants about your mother, and you, and she says she wants to know
that you’re real.”

“No doubt she wants to have something to
gossip about,” John put in. “She ain’t but seventeen or eighteen.
Her days get long in that big house with nothing to break them up
but a spot of tea and a juicy tidbit. What else could she want with
you? She’s in this as deep as we are. If the duke ever discovers
that she’s been stealing his controller’s books and schedules, and
letting us take a look, he’ll send her to Newgate right along with
us.” He grimaced at the reminder of prison. “Still I, for one,
understand if you think it’s an unnecessary risk.”

Richard glanced at his brother. “I’d say
Mary’s made it necessary enough. Unless we find another way to get
the information we need, we’re out of a job. And nothing could be
more simple than what we got going—”

“Of course Richard doesn’t want to lose
Mary. He likes what she gives him along with the information,” John
exclaimed.

Richard laughed, but Nathaniel didn’t find
anything to do with his father amusing. “So what do you suggest?”
he asked Richard. He had visited the duke’s lavish Clifton estate
only once, when he was seven, but that day held enough painful
memories to last him a lifetime. He had no wish to probe the
wound.

“Mary always meets me in the woods near the
pond. She can’t read so she brings the books with her. It takes me
a few minutes to find out what we need to know, then I pay her and
send her on her
way... or I
would if you
were with me,” Richard added with a devilish grin.

Nathaniel thought for a moment. It wouldn’t
be easy to replace Mary. As one of the housemaids, she had access
to every room in Bridlewood Manor. And being uneducated, she
remained above suspicion. “Very well, when we put in at Bristol,
send her a message telling her I’ll come.”

Turning and finding Trenton gone, Nathaniel
left Tiny and John to their revelry and went below, where his first
mate was already scratching numbers in a large black book.

“Not bad,” Trenton said as Nathaniel entered
the captain’s cabin. “Eighty crates of tobacco. Should bring a good
price.”

Nathaniel didn’t answer. He was still
thinking about Mary and Bridlewood and, as always, his father.
“What?” he asked, glancing up.

“I said, according to the ledgers, we’re
doing well. If every ship goes like the
Nightingale
and the one we took a few days ago, it
won’t be long before we’re both rich.”

Nathaniel smiled.
Rich
had a pleasant ring to it. Not that he knew from
experience. Before Martha was killed, he had grown up in a small
shack with her sister, Beatrice, and Bee’s eight children. Bee’s
husband had run off after the birth of their last son—Nathaniel had
never known why—but the formula of so many living off so few,
namely Martha, destined all to a life of poverty. Though he loathed
thinking of it, Nathaniel would never forget the hard, stale bread,
the cold winter days without any coal, and the dark nights when
they’d been too poor to buy candles.

Yes,
Nathaniel
thought,
if one couldn’t be loved, one could at
least be warm, comfortable, and full, always.
“But it won’t
be this easy for long,” he replied. “These ships were no challenge
because their crews hadn’t any prior warning. They were at sea
before we took our first ship. But word will have gone out now, and
things will begin to change.”

Trenton grunted. “Nothing ever stays easy
for long.”

“Like Mary, for instance.” Nathaniel
stretched out on his bed, propping his arm behind his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trenton’s
face showed concern.

“She wants to meet me.”

His first mate’s chair scraped the floor as
he shoved the ledgers away and stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re
going to go along with that. If your father catches you at
Bridlewood—”

“I know, but we can’t lose her. Our whole
operation depends on the information she gives us.”

“To hell with the operation. You go to
Bridlewood, and your life will depend on her, too.”

Nathaniel shrugged and gave Trenton a grin.
“You, my friend, have a problem with trust.”

* * *

The hilltop village of Clifton, famous for
its pure air and picturesque vistas of the Severn estuary and the
Welsh hills, sat one mile to the west of Bristol, high above the
River Frome. Nathaniel had long admired its beauty, and he was not
alone. Some of Bristol’s wealthiest residents, most of them
Quakers, owned homes in Clifton.

Nathaniel and Richard made their way through
Bristol, up to Clifton, and then to the duke’s country estate where
they waited by the pond to meet Mary. They stood in silence,
patting the noses of their hired mounts to keep them quiet, as the
moon’s light peeked through the crooked branches of the many oak
trees surrounding the water. Mary was supposed to arrive at
midnight, but it was well past that, and Nathaniel was becoming
uneasy.

“Does she usually come on time?” He tried to
see through the trunks and limbs and leaves that completely blocked
his view of the house.

“She’s not the most punctual girl I’ve ever
met,” Richard responded. “But then, she’s never in much of a hurry
to get back, either, ye ken?”

Nathaniel saw the gleam of Richard’s teeth
as his mouth spread into a smile. “I’d find another maid to dally
with, if I were you,” he replied. “There’s no telling what my
father would do if he found you here. He’s certainly not a man of
conscience.”

“You worry too much,” Richard said. “How
could he prove my connection to you?”

“Entirely too easily. You’re not nameless
and faceless when you board his ships, you know—”

The snap of a twig made Nathaniel fall
silent. Someone was coming. His eyes bored into the darkness, but
still he jumped when Mary popped out of the trees behind them.

“‘Ere I am,” she laughed. “Did I scare
ye?”

Nathaniel didn’t answer. Mary was a wiry
young girl with medium-brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She had
sharp little teeth and a flat, shapeless figure, nothing much to
recommend her, but Richard gave her a hug.

“Did you miss me?”

“No, an’ I know better than to believe ye
missed me.” She laughed again, her eyes turning to Nathaniel with
apparent interest. “Oooo, ye did bring ‘im. But ye never told me ‘e
was so ‘andsome.”

“That’s because he’s an ugly bloke in the
light,” Richard responded. “His hair’s as black as one of those
American savages everyone talks about, not the flaming red of me
own, and while I admit his eyes are blue, they sometimes look as
pale as ice. You should see him when he gets angry, which I must
admit, he does, and entirely too often.”

Nathaniel couldn’t resist a smile at this
quick accounting of his attributes, or lack of them, but he hadn’t
come to be inspected like a horse. He was ready to get hold of the
heavy book Mary hugged to her breast, and doubly eager to be away
from Bridlewood.

“Well, ‘e wouldn’t be ‘is father’s son if ‘e
didn’t ‘ave a temper,” Mary responded. “The duke’s been a miserable
soul ever since the two of ye took that first ship. I can scarcely
keep a straight face when ‘e starts rantin’. I swear, the mention
of ye makes ‘im apo—apo... what’s the word?”

“Apoplectic,” Nathaniel replied dryly,
deriving a small bit of pleasure from picturing his arrogant father
out of his mind with rage.

“That’s it. ‘E’s apoplectic near ‘alf the
time.”

Nathaniel felt the maid’s hand on his
forearm.

“But ‘ow did ye get so tall?” she asked.
“Yer a full ‘ead taller than yer father.”

“Perhaps I’ve my mother to thank,” Nathaniel
responded. “May I?” He put his hand out for the book she still held
to her flat chest, and finally she shrugged and relinquished
it.

“‘E’s in an awful ‘urry,” she remarked to
Richard, a grimace claiming her plain face.

Nathaniel quickly lit one of the candles he
had brought in his pack and laid the book open, searching for the
information he needed. The pages were filled with the names of
ships, the dates, times, and locations of their departures, their
destinations, even a list of their anticipated cargo.

Nathaniel smiled as he memorized the
schedule for the following two weeks, but the smile froze on his
face when he heard voices, men’s voices, coming through the
trees.

“There’s someone at the pond,” a stranger
shouted, “Come on!”

Running feet pounded the ground, making
apprehension prickle down Nathaniel’s spine. Whoever it was, they
were close. And they were coming closer still.

He glanced up to see a look of shock, then
fear cross Mary’s face. Snapping the book closed, he shoved it into
her arms and pushed her back into the cover of the trees. “Run,” he
whispered. “Go back another way and return this. The sound of our
horses will draw them after us and keep you safe for a bit, but you
must hurry.”

Nathaniel leaped onto his horse as Richard
did the same, then he glanced around, wondering which direction to
go. The water was on one side, their pursuers were on the other,
and he had no idea what he might encounter in front or behind
him.

“How do we get out of here?” he asked
Richard.