in her husband’s business, which left Isobel feeling unexpectedly at ease. Edwina had introduced her to the duke and duchess, blithely explaining that she hailed from Aberdeen and was sailing with Royd to Freetown in pursuit of a cousin they now knew to be among the captives held at the mine. Both duke and duchess had accepted the explanation at face value, but Isobel had seen Minerva’s gaze divert to Royd in a considering fashion—Royd on whose arm Isobel had arrived.
He was seated in a straight-backed chair to her right; Edwina sat on Minerva’s other side, and Declan, Robert, and Aileen were in possession of the sofa opposite.
The two key figures sat in armchairs angled away from the hearth to face the company. Wolverstone wielded stillness like a weapon; with coloring much like Isobel’s own—dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin—neither his expression nor any movement of hands or body indicated his thoughts, much less his feelings.
In sharp contrast, Melville, a corpulent figure with his corsets over-laced and his balding head sheening, fidgeted and fussed, his pudgy hands rarely still. He had the pasty-pale complexion of someone who spent all his life indoors. Despite his ancestry, his features were coarser than those of any other in the room, and the expression on his face was overtly fretful. The expression in his washed-out brown eyes was, Isobel considered, closer to hunted.
She listened while Royd presented Melville, Wolverstone, and Minerva with a concise summary of Caleb’s findings. He concluded with “Armed with Caleb’s and Lascelle’s information, as well as the reports from Dixon and Hillsythe, we have all we need to seize the compound.”
His fingers steepled before his face, Wolverstone nodded. Although his gaze remained on Royd, Isobel got the distinct impression it was Melville Wolverstone addressed when he said, “To adequately lay this matter to rest, we need to achieve three distinct objectives. The first must be to rescue the captives, to preserve their safety and return them to Freetown, with whatever compensation is feasible. We also need to dismantle the mine and subsequently ensure such an enterprise cannot flourish again—the latter will require changes to the settlement’s governance, along with consequent oversight, neither of which is of immediate concern. Of more relevance to all here is the capture of those involved—the three local instigators and, through them, the mysterious backers.”
Wolverstone finally glanced at Melville. “I believe we’re in agreement that the backers are almost certainly English and of an ilk that means their exposure will provoke considerable scandal.” Wolverstone’s voice didn’t rise, but his tone hardened. “In the current circumstances, it’s imperative we gather sufficient evidence to convict the backers—identifying them alone will not be enough to take them down, and unless we do, the populace will howl.”
The First Lord’s expression had grown almost petulant, his fingers agitatedly plucking his sleeve. When Wolverstone spoke again, his voice was milder, yet his tone remained implacable. “I suggest that the government’s best way forward will be to give Captain Frobisher whatever he needs to successfully complete this mission.”
Melville frowned peevishly and irritatedly waved. “Yes, yes—whatever is necessary. We have to have this settled—have to have those damned backers in our hands with evidence enough to convict—before the infernal news sheets learn of it.”
Royd and Wolverstone exchanged a glance, then Royd calmly stated, “I need a directive from you to Decker.”
Melville’s frown turned confused. “I gave a letter to your brother here.” He waved at Declan.
“Caleb kept that letter in case of need—the correct decision in the circumstances. But even if he’d sent it back, it wouldn’t be enough.” Royd met Melville’s gaze. “I don’t need a letter directing Decker to give me all assistance. I need a directive placing Decker under my command. In order to complete this mission, it’s imperative that I be able to give Decker orders that I can have confidence he will obey without question.”
Melville looked aghast. “You’re asking me to give you—a privateer—command of a naval squadron? Over a vice-admiral?”
Royd let a heartbeat go past. “Yes.” When Melville huffed, Royd said, “It’s essential that I be able to give Decker one particular order, and that he obeys immediately and without question or alteration. If he doesn’t—if he vacillates—it will put the success of the entire mission at risk.”
At that, Melville’s gaze turned wary. After a second, he glanced at Wolverstone.
The duke met his gaze imperturbably and arched one dark brow as if to say: What did you expect?
Melville looked down, then he humphed. From beneath his pale brows, he shot a look at Royd. “Very well. I’ll have the orders prepared and sent over this evening.” Melville glanced at Declan. “Stanhope Street, isn’t it?”
Declan nodded. “Number twenty-six.”
Melville swung his gaze back to Royd. “Anything else you need?” The First Lord’s tone was sarcastic.
Royd nodded. “I’ll need a similar letter from the Home Office, sufficient to guarantee Governor Holbrook’s compliance with any orders given to him by whoever presents it, and another such missive from the War Office for the Commanding Officer at Fort Thornton. Don’t make the latter specific. We need to ensure whoever’s in charge at the time acts as required.”
Melville’s jaw had fallen slack. Again, he looked at Wolverstone; again, he received no support from that quarter, leaving him to shut his mouth, humph, and fidget, and ultimately agree with a terse, tight-lipped nod.
Wolverstone took pity on the First Lord and asked Royd, “When will you sail?”
“The Corsair will have reached Southampton this morning. She’ll already be provisioning. Once she’s ready, she’ll stand off, and The Trident and The Cormorant will provision as well—we’ll send orders down tomorrow. After that...we’ll need a day or so to get out further orders and complete our preparations.” Royd met Wolverstone’s dark gaze. “I’ll be taking at least two other Frobisher ships down in support—so, all told, five ships’ complements to join with Caleb’s and Lascelle’s. At this point, I anticipate departing on Monday’s tide.”
“Monday?” Melville grumped. “This is urgent. Can’t you set out sooner?”
“I could,” Royd calmly replied. “But because The Corsair is faster than the other ships, there’s no point me setting out in advance—after initiating Decker’s action, I would have to skulk close to Freetown, waiting for the others to arrive before going farther down the estuary, and the more prolonged that stage, the greater the risk of one of the instigators learning of our presence and guessing our intentions. I need Robert and Declan to get into Freetown as soon as possible after I arrive and deal with Decker. That timing works best if we leave on the same day.”
Melville’s face tightened. “Very well. The more important question is when you’ll be back.” His voice strengthened. “When can I expect this all to be over, everything resolved and finished with, heh?” Agitated aggression colored the demand.
Royd held the First Lord’s gaze for several seconds, then stated, “This will end when we have the backers in our hands and evidence enough to send them to the gallows.”
The meeting broke up after that. Melville left first. As Wolverstone walked with Royd and Isobel to the front door, he murmured, “As you saw, the prospect of political ramifications has the First Lord rattled. He knew this matter was a grave threat to the government the instant it came to
