Twenty-three

Gwendeline shook herself angrily and went over to examine the windows. The room was on the first floor, but they were large and opened easily outward on hinges at the side; the drop was hardly five feet here at the back of the building. Gwendeline climbed onto the sill and jumped.

She landed in a heap, unhurt but tangled in her long skirts and cloak. She got to her feet, shook out her clothing, and surveyed her position. A narrow flagstone path twisted around the corner of the inn, leading to the street, but Gwendeline had no intention of walking that way and perhaps encountering Blane. She faced instead the cobbled alley that ran away from the building at right angles and trudged off holding up her skirts, though they were already so dirty it hardly mattered.

The alley ended in a small street which ran parallel to the one in front of the inn. It went in the right direction, but several people were walking along it, and Gwendeline faltered, afraid to be seen. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and bent her head, then turned and hurried down toward the harbor, avoiding the eyes of other pedestrians. She hoped nervously that she could find the ship again. Her chief concern was for Miss Brown. Was her friend safe? She trusted Blane not at all, but as she thought over his behavior after they’d left the church, she was sure something had gone awry in his plans. Perhaps Brown really was out of his clutches.

She took some wrong turnings, but at last she reached the docks, and walked along them until she recognized the ship. A few sailors shouted remarks as she passed, but no one offered to harm her, and eventually she came to a vessel which she was almost sure was the correct one. She’d found that ships look much alike.

She stood behind a stack of wooden crates, watching it for a while. She could see no movement on the deck, but she wanted to make sure Blane wasn’t about. Finally satisfied, she stepped forward and mounted the gangplank. There was no one on deck. Gwendeline walked swiftly toward the cabins and into the passageway. She passed the room where she’d been imprisoned. There were three other such tiny cubicles beyond. None was locked, and all were empty. She checked the main cabin opposite, but it was also untenanted. Puzzled, Gwendeline walked back out on the deck. Where had everyone gone? The ship appeared to be deserted. Where was Miss Brown?

There was a sudden scraping noise, and Gwendeline jumped. It had seemed to come from below her feet, and she crept over to look into the large open hatch in the middle of the deck. All was dark in the hold, but it appeared to be empty; she could see the reflection of some water in the bottom of the boat. Perhaps it was a rat, she thought nervously. She moved away again, and went to sit on the rail, overlooking the harbor.

She shouldn’t stay here. Blane might come at any time. But when she told herself to get up and leave, she found that she didn’t know where to go. The sun was setting behind her, throwing her shadow across the waves. In her exhaustion the quiet lap of the water was lulling. Her life was ruined, just as it had seemed that her dreams were becoming real. She shook herself. No self-pity. She must act. But darkness was falling, making the ship seem a safe haven compared to the murky streets. She had no money, and her unconventional appearance would certainly not help her find aid.

A clattering in the darkness startled her. Two men stood with their backs toward her at the bottom of the gangway. Gwendeline gasped. It was Blane and the seaman who had accosted him outside the church. She huddled into a pile of folded sails.

“I say we bolt,” insisted the sailor. “The swells snaffled t’other mort hours ago. She’ll ’ave opened her budget, or I’m a bag-pudding. Which I ain’t.”

Blane seemed to have no trouble comprehending these cryptic words. “You may do as you like. I intend to find the girl.”

The sailor shuffled uncertainly; he looked around. “What’ud she be doin’ ’ere, guv’nor? The big cove, ’e probably nabbed ’er too. Ain’t no one aboard this ’ulk.”

“I don’t believe he had her,” replied Blane. “His yacht is still in the harbor. If he’d found the girl, he would have put out. Come, let us search the cabins.”

He started toward the bow, and the seaman followed sullenly, muttering, “Females, I knew ’ow it’d be.”

The men disappeared into the passage, and Gwendeline dared to raise her head slightly. Could she escape while they were within? But before she could, they were back on deck. “Told ye,” said the sailor. “She ain’t ’ere.”

Blane held the lantern high and peered about the deck. “I was sure she’d come here,” he said to himself. “Where else could she have gone?” Gwendeline shrank down as far as possible and tried not to breathe. “Damn!” said Blane finally. “I haven’t time to search properly.”

“Indeed not,” said a voice from the shadows at the top of the gangway. “In fact, I fear you have run out of time entirely, Blane.”

Mr. Blane whirled. “Merryn,” he snarled, and the earl stepped onto the deck.

“Yes,” he replied. “I have caught up with you finally. And I don’t plan to have to pursue you again.”

“You are alone?” asked Blane.

The earl smiled. “Temporarily. I outdistanced my party in hopes of meeting you first. We have certain things to discuss.”

Blane’s laugh was ugly. “I daresay you think so. But as there are two of us, and I don’t care to remain here, we may have to defer our discussion until another time.”

Lord Merryn’s smile broadened. “Oh, I have no interest in your friend. I’m quite willing to let him go without hindrance.” He stepped away from the plank. “What do you say, my good man?” He gestured toward the shore.

The sailor took one quick look at each gentleman, then ran for the offered exit. He disappeared down the gangway as Blane shouted, “Come back, you fool.”

The earl laughed. “Now,” he said. And he started across the deck.

Blane backed away slightly. “What do you mean to do? Mill me down? You’ll find yourself out there.”

The earl continued to move forward. “Do you think you can best me?”

“Oh no, you are much too handy with your fives for me, but it may not be so easy,” cried Blane. He jumped back, reached inside his coat, and pulled out his pistol. As Gwendeline leaped up with a frantic cry, he aimed and shot.

She managed to knock his arm upward, and the bullet went wide. Furious, Blane hit her with the back of his hand, and Gwendeline fell to the deck unconscious.