Will Saunders was not by nature a violent man, but he knew there were men who only responded to violence. Years as a spy in France had taught him that uncomfortable truth. Men had died under his hand.

Hattie’s father and former fiancé were fortunate that they were many hundreds of nautical miles away at this moment, otherwise Will feared he would have done violence against them.

Holding a sobbing Hattie in his arms, he was overwhelmed with pity. This poor girl had been nothing more than a pawn in a bigger game being planned and played by those who should have protected her. He did not know who he hated more at that moment. Reverend Brown for having made the presumption that Hattie would make a comfortable wife, or Aldred Wright for having considered his daughter as nothing more than something to offer up to another man in marriage.

She had been given no choice but to do their bidding. No say in her life. Reckless though it had been, she had done the only thing she could by fleeing from them.

When her tears eventually ceased, Will sat Hattie back on the bed. He resumed his seat opposite.

With her parents and fiancé out of her life, Hattie was in a precarious situation. Will now faced a difficult decision. Did he let things lay as they were, or did he press her for more information?

He gritted his teeth. The next few minutes could change everything between them.

“So, Hattie, what other family do you have in London?”

* * *

She slowly raised her head and met his gaze.

If Will thought she was unaccustomed to the way of liars, he had never done business in the rookery of St Giles. While Hattie was not particularly strong in the art of lying herself, she still knew enough.

St Giles was the home of every thief, conman, and criminal worth his salt in London. She had dealt with many of them over the years; some lessons had been well learned.

While the newspapers regularly wrote articles demanding the rookeries of London be cleared, the authorities did nothing about it. Her father had a theory that if they did clean out the sordid slums, then the poor and criminals alike would be forced onto the streets of London. The rich of St James parish would not take kindly to having beggars and pickpockets living in the streets outside their homes.

Will’s attempt to comfort her had been real, he was not that calculating. She knew however, it was only a momentary interval in the long game he was playing. It was time for her to move one of her own pieces on the board.

“My Uncle Felix has a house on Argyle Street. You could take me there,” she replied.

She sat and waited. Watching as Will processed her words. The dark line on his brow relaxed just enough to tell her he believed her.

“Good. So that is where I shall take you once we make shore. What number is your uncle’s house?” said Will.

“Oh, I am not sure. I think it is number seventy- five.”

“On the right or left of the street as you come from Oxford Street?”

“Right. It’s a white four-storey town house.”

Will was still trying to pick holes in her story. Fortunately; she was telling the truth about the house and its location.

“Number seventy- five you said. That would make it the corner house?”

She frowned. Her uncle’s house was in the middle of a row of houses.

“No, its four doors from the end of the street.”

“Yes of course that would make it number seventy-five. I have friends in the corner house and they are in number eighty-one.”

Hattie held her breath, desperate not to show any sign of relief that Will believed her. The truth was, she was not lying. Her uncle did have a house on Argyle Street. His permanent residence was in London.

Who then was she to quibble over the fact that her Uncle Felix was currently serving with the British envoy to the United States of America in Washington, and had been absent from England for four years.

There was a knock at their cabin door and Will answered it. As he stood and turned his back toward her, Hattie let out the breath she had been holding.

The first mate stood at the door, cap in hand. Will had requested to speak with the captain regarding his sleeping arrangements.

“I shan’t be long,” said Will.

As the door closed behind him, Hattie punched the air. She had won a small, but important victory. She had given Will the name of a family member and an address where he could take her once they reached London.

Her uncle was real and she knew enough of his house to be able to give Will a convincing story that a home could be found for her there. She had bought herself some valuable time. Time in which she could come up with a plan to disappear from Will Saunders’ life.