Daniel changed into a fresh shirt for dinner, dreading having to break bread with Nigel Crowe. He couldn’t imagine a more inconvenient complication for this flight than that man’s presence. Daniel rolled his shoulders, which were stiff with tension.
He had always defended those who were unable to defend themselves. As a child, it had been simple; children were often cruel to one another, and he was always the biggest of the lot. He had naively assumed people would learn how to be decent by adulthood. Disillusionment had found him swiftly, enhanced by his military time in India. He was more jaded now than he cared to admit.
He shrugged into a jacket and left his cabin just as Dr. Cooper was locking her door. She had freshened up as well, he noted involuntarily with a masculine nod of approval. She wore a crisp blouse with short sleeves that showed the muscle definition in her arms, a trait not necessarily considered attractive by polite society but it held appeal for him. It meant she worked hard, didn’t wait to be served or pampered.
Atop the blouse was a tight-fitting corset, and she’d changed from breeches to a long, burgundy-hued skirt. She held a light jacket over her arm, and her hair was arranged in curls, twisted and fastened at her crown and ornamented with combs edged in small white pearls that stood out against her dark hair. Her eyes seemed a deeper green in the dim light of the passageway, and he swallowed, fighting the urge to loosen his necktie.
“You’ll want the coat,” he said, motioning to her arm. “It gets cold, even with the sails unfurled as windbreaks.”
Dr. Cooper nodded and threaded one arm through the sleeve as she walked down the narrow corridor. He fell into step beside her, wondering if he should have offered to hold the coat for her but she hadn’t given him time to. He settled for holding the other sleeve when she fumbled twice to get her hand through it. His mother had raised a gentleman, after all.
“Thank you.” She lifted a curl from beneath her collar and gave him a guarded smile. He couldn’t blame her reticence. He’d completely disarmed her and stored her weapons in his cabin after impressing upon her his displeasure at her presence on the voyage. But who could blame him? His passengers’ safety was paramount, and this was not a typical commercial flight. It would be a sad state of affairs indeed if the men under his care came to harm before he delivered them to Port Lucy, where they at least stood a chance of building a future free from harassment.
Daniel guided Isla up the companionway leading to the main deck and across to the wardroom at the bow. As they reached the doors, she said, “Captain Pickett, thank you again for accommodating me. I do not customarily resort to distasteful tactics to further my own needs. I hope you can forgive the insult.”
“I can.” He managed a half-smile, which was a far cry from the charm and genuine levity he’d possessed before the war. It was better than nothing, he supposed.
“Thank you. So you’ll return my weapons?”
“No.” His lips twitched at her angry, indrawn breath. “I still know little to nothing of your character, Dr. Cooper, and the cabin you’re using is the only one in proximity to my own.”
Her nostrils flared.
He lifted a brow. “Do you retract your apology?”
“I’m considering it.”
He opened the door and gallantly gestured for her to enter first. Her lips tightened, but she refrained from further comment, and he followed her into the dining salon.
“Captain.” Nigel Crowe stood near the entrance, and Daniel fought to keep his smile in place. Crowe was as tall as Daniel, clean-cut, with short black hair and dark brown eyes. His strong features were striking, but he was cold. He was rumored to be of Romanian descent, but nobody knew much of his origins before he’d arrived in London and found a place on the Committee.
“And Miss Cooper.” Crowe’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “What brings you on this flight, I wonder?”
Daniel tensed, cursing inwardly. Of course Crowe would assume the doctor flew with them in her professional capacity as a Shifter Empath. If the man were trying to catch Daniel in the act of smuggling, her presence would only add fuel to his suspicions. Daniel considered retracting his acceptance of her apology.
“Mr. Crowe.” Dr. Cooper nodded once but did not smile. “How wonderful to see you again, and how unsurprising, considering the frequency with which our paths have crossed in recent months.”
“Mmm. I was just introducing myself to our fellow passengers.” Crowe motioned to the three other men in the room, all of whom eyed Crowe with expressions that varied from wariness to fear.
Daniel angled toward Isla. “Dr. Cooper, as you are clearly acquainted with Mr. Crowe, allow me to introduce Mr. Arnold Quince, Mr. Jacob Bonadea, and Mr. Adam Lewis.”
Dr. Cooper extended her hand to each of the three gentlemen, a genuine smile crossing her face. “A pleasure.”
The gentlemen expressed a measure of surprise and said that they recognized her name. The doctor’s good reputation preceded her, it seemed, and though Daniel prided himself on being aware of all players in town, he realized that perhaps he was ridiculously out of touch. He was the only man aboard who hadn’t known she was the power behind Cooper Investigations.
“Now, then.” Daniel rubbed his hands together. “As there are so few of us on this trip, our mealtimes will be scheduled but otherwise we do not observe convention as closely. Please, take a seat at the table as you will.”
He hadn’t expected anyone to take the seat at the table’s head, and he’d been correct. It was typically the captain’s chair, and not only was he most comfortable there, but it also provided him with a good perspective to observe his passengers as they interacted.
Dr. Cooper skirted around Nigel Crowe, who observed her with an unreadable expression. She sat at Daniel’s right, and he imagined she probably couldn’t decide whom she was angriest with—Daniel, for refusing to return her weapons, or Crowe, for being underfoot. She glanced at Daniel, and a muscle worked in her jaw. She snapped her napkin open on her lap as Mr. Lewis claimed the seat next to her while Mr. Quince and Mr. Bonadea settled across the table.
Crowe took the seat at the foot of the table in Daniel’s direct line of sight, a visual reminder that the voyage was certain to be hell. If Crowe were a bumbling fool, as was Bryce Randolph, Crowe’s superior, he would be manageable. But Crowe was, if anything, too observant. He missed nothing.
Daniel signaled the two ’ton attendants to serve the first course and breathed a sigh of relief when Arnold Quince struck up conversation with the doctor.
“I find myself a mite awestruck, Dr. Cooper. I’ve heard of your accomplishments, and it is an honor to meet you.”
“Oh, Mr. Quince, how kind of you to say.” Her face softened with a smile.
Quince beamed in return, and Daniel was glad. Whatever he might think of the doctor’s underhandedness, she was gracious to those who needed it, and as an empath, she certainly would have sensed it in Mr. Quince.
Quince was a widowed father of five and grandfather of twelve. He had spent a career in the study of obscure botanicals and on occasion consulted for the Botanical Aid Society of which Daniel’s sister, Lucy, was a part. She’d spoken of the mature gentleman in glowing terms, and when she learned the PSRC had targeted Quince for closer study, she’d mentioned it to her husband, Miles Blake, Earl of Blackwell. Miles was one of three people in Daniel’s close circle of friends who knew of his subversive activities. He’d told Daniel about Quince’s predicament and arranged for them to meet.
If Miles hadn’t told him, Daniel would never have believed Quince was a predatory wolf at night when the moon was full.
“How is it you have heard of Miss Cooper, Mr. Quince?” Crowe asked the question innocently enough, but Daniel felt a fissure of unease and no small amount of anger. “I wonder why she would be known to a botanist.” Crowe smiled, but it came nowhere near his eyes.
Quince looked at Nigel Crowe as might a deer caught in a snare. He opened his mouth but closed it again, and to Daniel’s relief, Jacob Bonadea filled the awkward silence.
“Who hasn’t heard of Dr. Cooper? She is something of a legend. A doctor at such a young age, and doing wonderful work for a populace often misunderstood. I have four young daughters, and they will be delighted to hear I’ve met you in person. I have hopes they might follow in your footsteps.”
She tilted her head and a light flush stained her cheeks. “My thanks for the compliment, sir. I enjoy what I do—why, it rarely feels like ‘work.’ To find respect among colleagues and peers, well, I am honored.”
“‘Doctor’ is misleading, however, is it not?” Crowe speared a piece of salmon with his fork. “After all, you are not an actual doctor.”
The silence was uncomfortably heavy.
Adam Lewis, a medic Daniel and his friends had known during their time spent at war in India, was the only one of the three shifter passengers who actually looked as though he might be predatory. He was broad through the arms and shoulders, fit, muscled, and handsome as well. His size alone intimidated on occasion, but he also possessed piercing blue eyes that were the one physical constant when he shifted into a wolf. They were intense, and he now turned their full attention to Crowe.
“I fear I do not understand, Mr. Crowe.”
Crowe raised a single brow. “A doctor works in a hospital, or in battlefield surgery. With medicine. What Miss Cooper does involves calming wild animals and helping them express their feelings. Any mother worth her salt ought to be able to accomplish that.”
Lewis smiled. “It happens that I do work in a hospital, Mr. Crowe, and with professionals like Dr. Cooper daily. I’m certain I must have misunderstood any implied slight on your part, especially as I’ve witnessed firsthand the work of a trained empath. I do not know your mother, sir, but my own is not at all effective in soothing an agitated toddler let alone a predatory shifter in need of help.”
Daniel watched the scene play out before him, resigned. Perhaps they might experience bloodshed before the New Moon Phase after all. It seemed the good doctor had her champions. How surprised might they be if they knew the arsenal she usually carried.
“Of course.” Crowe smiled, eyes narrowed. “Certainly no slight intended. I do wonder, though, how it is you all seem to know a person whose occupation is devoted solely to the care, rehabilitation, or in extreme cases, capture of predatory shifters.”
Lewis quirked a brow and returned to his meal. “Everyone of import in London’s professional circles knows of Dr. Cooper’s expertise and successes. I confess I find it rather a surprise you seem to know her, Mr. Crowe.”
Daniel silently applauded his friend. He’d forgotten Lewis’s smooth approach. He was a master of the subtle insult, and if that should fail in silencing a foe, a well-placed throat punch proved effective.
Crowe smiled. “Oh, Miss Cooper and I have been acquainted for some time. I fear we have found ourselves on opposite sides of a recurring issue over the last several months.” He took another bite of his salmon. “But I do enjoy a healthy debate.”
Mr. Quince cleared his throat and nodded to Dr. Cooper. “At any rate, dear lady, it is an honor to make your acquaintance. If I might be so bold, what is the purpose for your visit to the islands?”
“Research. I hope to study the habits of shifters in differing environs.”
Daniel highly doubted that. What kind of research project would have her in mortal fear of missing an immediate flight? Still, she was hardly the only person at the table with secrets. The one soul among them who seemed transparent was the man at the foot of the table who worked for the government and delighted in seeing predatory shifters arrested, tried, and executed, usually for the flimsiest of reasons or under fabricated charges. Crowe made no excuses for his career. Everybody else had something to hide.
Daniel’s appetite was sparse, and he noted that Dr. Cooper was doing little more than cleverly cutting her food and moving it around on her plate. In fact, the only two people at the table who seemed to have appetites were Nigel Crowe and Adam Lewis, the former oblivious to—or perhaps reveling in—the discomfort he’d caused and the latter confident enough in his ability to beat an adversary to a pulp that little seemed to bother him.
“Might I assume you gentlemen also travel to the islands for research purposes?” The doctor kept her tone light, but Daniel spied her clutching the napkin in her lap.
Bonadea nodded. “Mr. Quince and I are working on a project for the Botanical Aid Society. My specialty is indigenous fauna on the outskirts of London, and Arnold and I have had occasion to work together before on various projects. Mr. Lewis was telling us before dinner that he intends to work at Port Lucy’s new hospital.”
“Excellent! A new hospital will surely benefit from your experience, Mr. Lewis.” Dr. Cooper smiled at Lewis, and Daniel smirked, turning his attention to his plate rather than give into the temptation to wink at his friend. Lewis turned heads wherever he went, and while Dr. Cooper’s enthusiasm was probably nothing more than professional, Daniel would wager that Dr. Cooper would find herself smitten with Adam Lewis by the time they reached Port Lucy.
Daniel’s only goal was to actually reach Port Lucy without harm coming to his passengers, either of their own unintended actions or because of the man who sat at the table examining them with unconcealed speculation. Crowe probably knew—or strongly suspected—that Quince, Bonadea, and Lewis were predatory shifters, just as he probably knew—or strongly suspected—that Daniel had been smuggling undocumented shifters out of the country. That Dr. Cooper, an obviously well-known predatory shifter empath and counselor, was also aboard suggested her purpose was to act as support if the need should arise.
Discovery meant professional ruin at best, imprisonment at worst.
Of all the flights for Dr. Isla Cooper to bully her way onto, why this one?