“You’re sure no Dutch ships were held up by customs yesterday?” Robert asked the harbormaster. He felt he was on more solid ground today. This sort of mundane footwork was his specialty.

“No, sir. I’m quite sure.” The harbormaster looked down at his ledger. “We had sixty-two ships dock yesterday. Three were Dutch. Their main cargo was passengers, and we had no issues with them.”

“Let’s try a different approach,” Simon said. He was sitting by the window, staring down at the wharf below. He turned to look at the harbormaster. “Which ships were held up in customs yesterday? Not Dutch ships. Any ship, regardless of registration.”

“Oh, brilliant,” Hastings said, perking up. He’d been getting quite bored with each successive dead end today. “Just because he was Dutch doesn’t mean he’s actually working for the Dutch, does it?”

Robert sighed and closed his eyes. “That throws another obstacle in our path, Hastings. It doesn’t help narrow our search.”

“Of course it does,” Simon said. He’d been short with Robert ever since they’d left the house. Robert knew he and Christy had spoken alone upstairs. Apparently it hadn’t gone well. Robert had been tempted to seek Christy out and make sure she was all right, but in the end he left her to her privacy.

“Fine,” he agreed with as much patience as he could muster. “If you please, harbormaster, can we get a list of vessels held in customs yesterday and where we might find them today?”

The harbormaster frowned at them. “On whose authority? I don’t want to get in trouble for handing out that information to anyone who comes asking.”

Robert pulled a letter from Sir Barnabas out of his jacket pocket. “I believe this will assuage your fears, sir.”

The harbormaster took a moment to read it and then nodded. “I’ll make a note that it was on Sir Barnabas James’s orders, then.” He signaled to an assistant. “Bring me the customs list.”

The assistant came back within minutes. Robert was mightily impressed with the organization at the port authority and would make a note of it in his report. All the same, he wanted to snatch the list from the harbormaster’s hand. They were the ones who needed it, after all.

“Fourteen ships in all held up by customs yesterday, gentlemen. All but six were cleared and sent on to dock.” He handed the list to Robert. “You’ll find the name of the ship, its country of origin, cargo, final destination, and current docking location and duration of stay.”

“Thank you.” Robert turned to go.

“You can’t take that with you,” the harbormaster said.

Robert stopped and took a deep breath before he turned back to the harbormaster. He saw Simon watching him with a smirk. He hadn’t moved. He clearly understood the mechanizations of bureaucracy better than Robert.

“Do you need a copy?” the harbormaster asked impatiently.

“Yes, please,” Robert replied, handing the list back.

“Bloody hell,” Hastings mumbled behind Robert, who wholeheartedly agreed. Still.

“Language, Hastings,” he reprimanded at the harbormaster’s scowl.

“It will take a few minutes,” the harbormaster said, handing it back to the assistant. “We do actually have work of our own, you know.”

“Just point me to a desk, and if you’d be so kind as to lend me the use of a pen and paper, I will gladly copy it myself,” Robert offered with a placating smile.

“That’s fine,” the harbormaster said, clearly appeased. “I’ll have my man copy it. He’s a quick, steady hand.” He nodded and the young assistant hurried off.

“Thank you again,” Robert said, glaring over his shoulder at the other two.

“Yes, thank you,” Simon chimed in, sounding moderately sincere.

“Thank you,” Hastings said, making a face at Robert. The harbormaster marched off, disgusted with them all.

“You don’t do yourself any favors by making enemies of men like him,” Simon told Hastings, surprising Robert. He hadn’t thought Simon was very interested in the proceedings, either.

“Why?” Hastings asked belligerently. “I still think this is a waste of time.”

“Because he may not have the information we need today, but he might in the future, on another case,” Simon told him. He stood up slowly. His back must still be bothering him. Perhaps their activities last night had been too much for him.

Robert blushed and turned away to hide it. He’d actually meant the sneaking about at Alice Gaines’s, but as soon as he’d had the thought, their other activities entered his mind. That was this morning, however. It was a good thing he had no intention of repeating their liaison, since he was fairly certain Simon’s back couldn’t take it.

“I think you are both being unnecessarily negative,” he said, joining the conversation just so he could get away from his own thoughts. “This information may yet prove quite valuable. We don’t know yet.”

“You are right, of course,” Simon said with another sigh. “I’m being morose today. Forgive me.” He flashed a smile, but caught himself and looked away again. As unbelievable as it seemed, he appeared self-conscious about what had happened between them as well.

“Fine,” Hastings said impatiently. “I’ll go and trade pleasantries with the harbormaster and try to hurry this along. Satisfied?” He stomped off.

“It’s probably not a good idea to leave him alone with anyone,” Robert commented, watching Simon.

“No,” Simon agreed. “Shall I follow him?” He turned as if to do so.

Robert stepped in his path to stop him. The noise of the busy office behind them created a small bit of privacy. “No,” he said. “We can’t go on like this, Simon.”

“Oh, dear,” Simon said, a brief, amused smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “It sounds as if you are giving me my congé. Over so soon, is it?”

“Simon,” Robert said, chastising him with that one word.

Simon had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. You’re right, of course. Damned awkward, though, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. So let us be gentlemen about it and simply agree to let it pass. It happened, and it won’t happen again. We were both…”

“Yes?” Simon asked curiously as he hesitated. “What were we, exactly? I’ve been wondering that, too.”

“Half asleep,” Robert concluded, knowing it was a lie.

“All right, we’ll agree to that,” Simon said. “Why not? It’s as good as anything else.”

“I could have been anyone,” Robert said.

“Oh, well.” Simon looked as offended as he sounded. “That’s what you think of me, is it? Good to know.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Robert asked, confused. “I mean, we hardly know one another. I’m a married man. I’m married to Christy, the woman you—” He broke off, shocked at what he’d almost said.

“Yes, there’s that. The woman I…well, then.” Simon looked away. “You needn’t worry that it will happen again. With you or with Christy. I promise I will keep my promiscuous ways to myself while under your roof.” He looked over Robert’s shoulder. “If I find myself unable to deny my baser instincts, I will seek out Hastings.”

“Here, what?” Hastings asked from over Robert’s shoulder, startling him.

“Nothing,” Robert said quickly. “Simon was attempting to be funny.”

“He shouldn’t,” Hastings said. “He could get hurt that way.”

“Too late,” Simon said with a laugh. “I’ve let my poor humor lead me to disaster too many times to recall already.”

“Well, stop it,” Hastings said, looking at both of them. “We’ve just got to find the Dutchman and stop an assassination, and I can be shot of the two of you. Keep your heads on straight until the job is over. Christ almighty, I’m not being paid to nanny you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Robert blustered. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Right as rain, sure thing, Constable,” Hastings said sarcastically. “I may not be the best spy here, gentlemen, but even I can spot that lie with my limited skills. Come on. Let’s find a ship.”

There was only one ship that stood out among the fourteen detained by customs the day before. A Turkish cargo vessel that came into port half empty, carrying a small cargo of rugs. Customs had flagged the ship because they had no manifest, no port of origin for the goods, nor any details about their cargo other than the most basic: rugs.

“Well, that’s certainly suspicious,” Robert agreed.

“With no authentication for the rugs, they are worthless in the British market,” Simon said. “They might as well have listed them as destined for the black market right on a forged manifest.”

“Doesn’t that rule them out?” Hastings asked. “It would seem that someone who was trying to sneak into the country and was operating a spy ring would try not to attract the attention of the authorities.”

“If they know what they’re doing, that’s true,” Simon said. “But the more we discover about this case, the more I begin to doubt that. Nothing about this seems to follow the usual protocols, does it? A spy network of boys? A partnership with a madam? Assassination? Nothing about this seems right.”

“I know we must find the Dutchman and stop whatever he has planned,” Robert said. “But my objective is still the same as it ever was. To find and bring to justice the person or persons responsible for killing those boys. In all that has transpired in the last day or so, their deaths seem to have been forgotten.”

“You work for Sir Barnabas now,” Hastings told him. “Your objective is whatever his objective is.”

“I will find his spy,” Robert said. “But I did not seek his employment, nor did I have anything to say about it. So he shall simply have to accept my objectives or learn not to be so highhanded in the future.”

Simon’s laughter sounded delighted. “Oh I am going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse. You do realize those boys, as you call them, were spying for a foreign power? That’s treason.”

“You heard the Dutchman. He admitted that they were ignorant of what they were doing, innocent couriers. They were boys and they died horribly.” He stopped and looked at Simon and Hastings. “No one else is speaking for them. So I shall.”

“So you shall,” Simon said quietly, staring back at him. “No, Robert—we shall. Isn’t that right, Hastings?”

“I used to be one of them.” Hastings took his hat off and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “Damned hot, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s still hot,” Simon said. “What do you mean, you were one of them?”

“Oh, I wasn’t a boy traitor, but I could have been.” Hastings barely stopped to check for traffic before he stepped out into the busy street. “I was one of those orphans, running around the streets, no family, no education, no one to care. It was Sir Barnabas who found me and recruited me, but it could just as easily have been someone like the Dutchman or Alice Gaines.” He looked at Robert over his shoulder. “So yes, I’ll help you find the she-devils who killed those boys. It’s the least I can do for my own kind, isn’t it?”

Robert didn’t know what to say to that. A life like that was foreign to him. He’d been raised privileged, perhaps not among the aristocracy, but well-to-do, the son of a prosperous businessman. His father had died when he was young and he had been overindulged by his mother, but he’d been well educated and wanted for nothing. Yet another reason why his current situation baffled so many. Why lower himself to do police work? But cases like this were exactly why.

The Turkish ship sat out in the harbor, still waiting for an available docking but cleared by customs, who had inspected the goods and found nothing unusual about the rugs. The customs man had made a note: poor quality/not Turkish.

But it was the note below that one that had sent them looking for the ship first: Dutch captain.

“It would be too simple if the Dutchman we seek is this captain,” Robert said.

“Yes,” Simon said. “And I don’t trust simple.”

“Neither do I,” Robert said.

“I love simple,” Hastings said. “That’s why I like the jobs where I get to just kill someone. That’s easy. Here’s a name. Go kill them. Good job. On to the next. None of this tramping all over town and making nice with the locals and trying to figure out who did what. It doesn’t matter who did what. Sir Barnabas says they need to go. I make them disappear. Now that’s simple.”

“You are very frightening,” Robert told him, and he meant it. They had reached the ferry landing where they were joined by a group of Sir Barnabas’s men, who would board the ship with them.

Robert hadn’t even known men like Hastings existed. He certainly hadn’t known his childhood friend and schoolmate Daniel was one of them. Finding out about Daniel’s secret life had been a turning point for Robert. His life had gone in extraordinary directions ever since he’d been pulled into Daniel’s affairs. He was married now, a father, he’d had…whatever that was with Simon this morning, and here he was tracking spies for the Home Office. He wasn’t sure he particularly cared for the last, to be sure. He liked being a constable, solving crimes, protecting the populace.

As for Simon, he had mixed emotions. He’d been friends with Daniel, and been aware of his predilection for men, for too long to be shocked by his own encounter in that regard. But he was shocked at how easily he’d fallen into the passionate interlude with Simon. He’d never been tempted by another man before for all he was aware that men acted in such a manner.

He knew he was boring and staid in comparison to Daniel and Simon and men like Hastings. He was content to pursue his livelihood, seek a wife and family, and live his life simply. He had never sought excitement, or wanted to live a less mundane life. He thrived on order, duty, organization. The disorganized life of a spy did not appeal to him in the slightest. Nor did the abnormal affections of same-sex love. Other men might be able to live with the inherent disorder of a life like that, but not Robert.

And yet…and yet he’d married Christy, who was a contradiction of all he believed in from the moment he met her. Married to one man, pregnant with another’s child, on the run, lying about her identity, having a love affair with Simon—Robert had known all of that and he’d still asked for her hand. He’d been ready to beg for it. And he had never regretted marrying her. Not for one second.

He looked over at Simon. Were his confusing feelings for Simon just a result of his love for Christy? He knew she still cared for Simon, she’d admitted it to him earlier. Was he simply trying to get ahead of a possible complication on the horizon? His mind balked at where his thoughts were leading. He couldn’t imagine disrupting his well-organized life in such a fashion.

Perhaps the solution was more complicated than that. Perhaps in a convoluted way Robert was making sure there would be a place for him in Christy’s life, no matter what happened.

The thought made him stumble, and Simon reached out a hand to catch him before he fell. Robert shook it off, Simon’s touch like a splash of cold water, sending goose bumps along his arm.

Was that it? Was he trying to prepare himself to accept the inevitable? Christy had wanted Simon, and it was apparent that Simon still wanted her. What man wouldn’t? After the last two days, Robert could plainly see that no matter what had caused Simon to reject Christy last year, he was a good man at heart. Did Robert have the right to stand in the way of their love?

“Are you coming?” Simon asked. Robert looked over at him, startled. Simon was standing with one leg on the ferry, the other on the dock, his hand held out to him, a quizzical look on his face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Robert lied. “I’m fine. I’m coming.” He motioned Simon ahead and followed him onto the ferry. They would have to see this thing to the end, wherever it might lead. To the Dutchman, and possibly to the end of Robert’s marriage.