“Good morning, gentlemen.” Bourbon strode in beside them, his beaver hat shading the top half of his dark head, his black riding breeches donned and knee-length boots polished to a high sheen. The collar of his jacket sat high and hid the lower half of his face, the elusive spymaster hiding himself even in the bright light of day.
“Bourbon, good of you to join us.” He shook the captain’s hand and gestured to Ashten. “I’ve not long heard how you two met. The duke speaks highly of you.”
“As I speak highly of him when I’m given the chance.” Bourbon shook Ashten’s hand. “Good to see you, my friend. Word is you’ve recently wed Lady Ellie, sister to the Earl of Winterly. Congratulazioni.”
“Thank you.” Ashten shook Bourbon’s hand in return. “It’s good to see you’re well and that you’ve now joined us. Does this mean you’ve uncovered something of interest in your investigations?”
“I most certainly have.” The spymaster motioned to the side door of the warehouse. “Gentlemen, let’s speak inside where we can’t be overheard. I have much to enlighten you both about.”
“Hopefully you bring good news.” Donnelly strode through the door, eager to progress on his investigations. At times, he’d feared he might never move forward, each day that had passed allowing evidence to become buried deeper. That he couldn’t allow.
“Lord Donnelly!” Mr. Taylor hailed him as he strode away from several of his workers stacking crates. With a nudge of his spectacles, his man of affairs handed him the company’s burgundy leather-bound ledger. “We’ve received cargo this morning of indigo dyes, cotton, and silk. The quality of the silk is above reproach and will fetch a handsome price at market. All is listed here for your perusal.”
“Excellent, I’ll read through your entries and leave the journal on my desk for you to update with the prices when received.” Overseeing every element of his father’s business was important, as was maintaining strict control as he took the reins. Mr. Taylor hadn’t quite appreciated being inundated with so many questions this past week, not since it had caused him to get behind in his work, but he’d managed admirably all the same. Certainly, employing a clerk would help lessen Taylor’s workload, but when he’d broached the subject with the man, he’d insisted he had no need of a clerk. He preferred handling everything himself, so for now, things would remain the same. “Resume what you were doing,” he instructed Taylor.
“Right away, my lord.” Tugging on his neckcloth, he hurried back to the workers and gestured to where he wanted the crates.
Upstairs, Donnelly followed Bourbon and Ashten who’d already walked on ahead. He marched inside the main upper floor office and halted in the center, a spillage of light trickling through the navy drapes covering the wide window, the docks and river below. Wills sat perched on the edge of his desk, one foot swinging as he munched on his apple.
Bourbon swiped the lad’s cap and ruffled his hair. “Keep an eye out on the stairwell, Wills. Whistle if we are about to be disturbed.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” With a crunch, the lad sauntered out and closed the door with a soft click.
Bourbon stepped past the desk, opened the drapes wider with one finger and surveyed the area outside. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he then allowed the drapes to fall back into place and faced them. “Donnelly, I can report that your father and brother were honorable men, both clearly intent on returning the sunken chest of treasure to its rightful owner. They believed by delivering it to the War Office, it would be returned to the authorities in Spain, although the treasure never in fact belonged to the Spanish at all. I’ve discovered it belonged to the Portuguese House of Braganza.”
“Are you certain?” It had been recovered from a Spanish galleon.
“Yes. Two and a half years past, when the entire Braganza Dynasty of Portugal fled into exile, the treasure within the chest was left behind with the Spanish royal family, of which the Spanish promised to send the chest along when all became safe.” Bourbon slipped his hand inside his jacket and removed a piece of exquisite jade. Gently, reverently, he handed the piece to Donnelly. “This is a ceremonial mask, one which I recovered in the early hours of this morning from Mr. Blackburne, a wealthy solicitor. I found the mask within his town office, with evidence that he bought the piece for a large sum from a contact of his at the eastern docks. I’ve yet to uncover who that contact is, but I shall. It’s only a matter of time until I discover exactly who stole the chest and is now selling each item within it. Once I have that name, I’ll have found your killer.”
“You believe the thief and the killer are one and the same?” He certainly did, particularly since his father and brother had no known enemies.
“I do, particularly when no one else wished them harm.” Bourbon held out his hand. “Did you bring the drawing?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Let’s see if the mask is a match to it.”
Donnelly slid the drawing from his pocket and handed it to Bourbon, who unfolded and held the parchment for all three of them to see. Definitely a match. Anticipation of what this meant thrummed through him. “We’re far closer than ever before,” he whispered.
“We are.” Ashten closed his hand firmly over his shoulder. “You’ll get the justice you seek.” His friend turned to Bourbon. “The Royal Houses of Portugal and Spain are linked through marriage, are they not?”
“Yes, many times over. I can confirm the Spanish galleon that held this treasure sank on its journey to the Portuguese Viceroyalty of Brazil, where the Braganza royal family now reside. That’s how I’ve confirmed the treasure chest’s true ownership.” Bourbon folded the drawing, his gaze returning to Donnelly. “I’d like to hold onto this picture for a few days. Is that permissible?”
“Of course. Return it when you no longer have need of it.”
“You have my thanks.” A nod as Bourbon slipped the drawing into his pocket then accepted the jade mask from Donnelly and squeezed his arm. “You mentioned in the missive you sent to me that Lady Sophia Trentbury was with you when you uncovered the drawing.”
“Yes, although she is the one who actually uncovered it, not I.”
“Interesting.” Bourbon arched an inquisitive brow. “This may sound like an unusual question, but do you believe in foreseers, Donnelly?”
“I haven’t had the fortune to meet one. Do you believe in them?” he asked right back.
“There is a seer in Algiers who I consider family, Shira Ria. When I visited her a year past, she read my future, and spoke of two ladies I’d yet to meet, as well as a drawing and certain events that would unfold. I’m certain that this is the drawing she spoke of, and the events currently unfolding are those she warned me about. The name she gave me of the first lady was Sophia, the name of the second, Olivia.
“Sophia’s younger sister is Olivia.”
“Then you must excuse me while I follow Shira’s advice. No time can be lost.” Bourbon lifted his beaver hat and without another word, disappeared out the door.
“What advice could that be?” he asked Ashten, who simply shrugged, so he strode after Bourbon.
He halted outside the door, currently devoid of even one soul.
Gripping the handrail overlooking the stairwell and the lower floor of the warehouse, he searched for the elusive spymaster. Crates were stacked in rows with clear aisles between each row, Bourbon nowhere to be seen, the lad having vanished right along with him. So swift and fast.
“Donnelly?” Ashten called from the office. “Allow Bourbon to do his job. We meanwhile have a filing cabinet calling our names.”
Yes, they did, and he’d already placed his trust in Bourbon. He needed to allow the man to do his job. He returned to Ashten, who’d pulled several burgundy leather-bound ledgers from the cabinet and set them in a pile on the desk.
Seated next to his friend, he set to work on their task.
No stone could be left unturned.
Not one.
Chapter 6
Under a
patchy gray sky with a peek of blue trying to push through, Sophia gripped the edge of the small carriage window as the horses trotted up the promenade to the grand entrance of Montagu House. Together, the four ladies alighted before the British Museum and strolled across the courtyard, Sawyer and Gorman one step behind them. The museum’s main façade held seventeen bays with a prominent three bay center and three bay ends, which bordered the service wings. Sitting two stories high with a basement and a protruding mansard roof, Montagu House held a regal and elegant dome over the center. So stunning, and of clear French design. The museum was sophisticated and stately with an open field at the rear and extensive gardens all around, which visitors to the museum could enjoy at their leisure.
Sophia entered the front door of the building and as she did each time she arrived in this most wondrous of places, halted to admire the sheer beauty of the main floor’s immense interior. Groups of visitors mingled before paintings and exhibits, all here enjoying a day immersing themselves in all the museum had to offer. A wide staircase wound around the side of the central saloon and swept upward to the next floor, where high latticed windows at the front of the house allowed light to stream in. A high ceiling rose overhead with painted artwork gracing its entirety—a stunning centerpiece.
“Oh, look at these beautiful murals on the walls.” Maria gasped as she caught sight of the featured paintings to their left, the murals on show painted by both by Italian and French artists.
“Let’s admire those first.” This was Maria’s day and she’d do all she could to ensure her friend enjoyed herself. Drawing Maria along, she perused paintings both donated to the museum, and purchased by the trustees to ensure the fine pieces wouldn’t be lost to the public.
An hour later, they finally ascended the stairs, which in itself took time as one couldn’t simply wander past each high window along the stairway without halting to admire the extensive view of the gardens spread outside.
At the top, they wandered underneath an elegant arch framing a double doorway and into the first of dozens of upper rooms. Each well-crafted display caught their attention and they admired table after table.
Captain James Cook’s exhibit took Sophia’s breath away. So many pieces were on display from his travels across the South Seas, each item giving a glimpse into previously unknown lands. Next to her, Ellie smoothed one hand over an animal skin and read the documented entry about it to them. Olivia marveled over the pieces of rock, sculpted marble and ornamentation from the islands which Cook had discovered within waters that had never been chartered before. Across from her, Maria gushed over the well-handcrafted pieces gifted to Cook from several island chiefs who spoke in languages unknown.
Goodness, but their world was so vast, far greater than Sophia had ever believed it could be. How incredible to undertake such an adventure. She trailed one finger along a piece of the foremast of Cook’s ship, HMS Resolution, which had been damaged by the rough seas after he’d left the Hawaiian Islands.
She stood quietly, reverently, as she read the plaque detailing Cook’s unfortunate demise. After leaving Hawaii, Captain Cook’s expedition of 1779 had been forced to return to the islands after only a week at sea. As they arrived where they’d been greeted with great respect only a few days past, this time they were set upon by the natives for reasons unknown to them, although they suspected it had to do with the islanders’ beliefs and the gods they worshipped. Only a few of his men managed to escape to the safety of Cook’s two ships, although Cook himself was killed by a mob of islanders, his body taken by the Hawaiians for ritualistic burial purposes, although some of his remains were returned to his crew and once they had been, his men set sail after repairing their vessel, then officially buried Cook at sea, within the waters he’d cherished exploring.
Cook’s life had come to such an abrupt and sad end.
Dipping her head with respect, she stepped away and followed Maria and her sisters, who’d already continued on.
Maria and Olivia halted before a marble statue, Sawyer remaining close to Maria.
Ellie perused a series of oil paintings next, Gorman keeping an eye on her.
Sophia smiled and veered toward an enticing collection of books. She’d always adored the written word and she took her time thumbing through the volumes, some tomes Winterly actually had on his study shelves.
At the table next to her, a man wearing a beaver hat stood with the rim of his hat shading the top half of his dark head. With the collar of his jacket flicked high and hiding the lower half of his face, he appeared mysterious. He picked up an engraved gem, set it down and perused the coins and prints which he seemed to find of great interest, then suddenly he tipped his gaze toward her. Brilliant sapphire eyes sparkled, his jaw firmly set, the way he stood both elusive and regal.
“My apologies.” Cheeks flaming, she turned her gaze back on the tomes. Never had she been caught staring so openly at a man.
“Apology accepted.” He smiled, his lips lifting, his blue eyes brightening even further. “Would you be Lady Sophia Trentbury, by chance?”
“Ah, yes.” Baffled, she frowned. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
“No, although we share two acquaintances, one being the Earl of Donnelly, the other the Duke of Ashten, your sister’s husband.” He stuck one hand in his inner jacket pocket and removed a piece of thick parchment. Unfolding it, he continued in a low murmur, “Donnelly handed this drawing to me earlier this morning. You will of course be aware of it since you’re the lady who discovered it in the earl’s library. He has informed me about what happened, of course.”
“Oh, you must be Captain Bourbon.” Her heartbeat raced. “You’re aiding the earl in his investigations?”
“Yes, and I hope I’m not being too forward in introducing myself.”
“We don’t exactly have someone here to perform an introduction for us.” She also wished to speak to this gentleman. A quick glance about as she checked to ensure no one paid too much attention to them, and since her sisters and Maria were still immersed in other displays, she faced the man again. “We shall introduce ourselves. I’m Lady Sophia, the Earl of Winterly’s sister.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sophia.” Drawing tucked away, he caught her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I have something to show you, an item from the treasure chest which I’ve spoken to Donnelly and Ashten about.” He removed a piece of jade from his inside coat pocket and carefully held the treasure toward her. “This is the actual jade mask portrayed in the drawing you found.”
“Oh my, how did you come by it?” She held the mask carefully in her hands, the piece’s mouth and eye sockets open and carved with an exquisite eye for detail. By a master carver for certain. Shaking at the immense find she now held, she murmured, “This mask is beautiful, extremely beautiful.”
“Priceless too.”
“Yes, I imagine that is so.” She handed the mask back, which he accepted and returned to his pocket.
“I would like to speak to you further, in private if I may?” Extending one crooked elbow, he continued, “Would you take a short walk with me, into the next room?”
“Of course.” Somewhat dazed, she accepted his offered arm and he guided her into the side room where two people stood admiring an exhibit along the far wall. “What did you wish to speak to me about, Captain Bourbon?”
“The sunken treasure chest. I’ve learnt it doesn’t belong to the Spanish, but to the Portuguese House of Braganza.”
“It does?”
“Yes, and as I’ve informed Donnelly and Ashten, two and a half years past, when the entire Braganza Dynasty of Portugal fled into exile, the treasure within the chest was left behind with the Spanish royal family, of which the Spanish promised to send the chest along when all became safe. The ceremonial mask I’ve shown you was recovered in the early hours of this morning from the town office of Mr. Blackburne, a wealthy solicitor. He bought the piece for a large sum from a contact of his at the east
ern docks. I’ve yet to uncover who that contact is, but I shall. It’s only a matter of time until I discover exactly who stole the chest, but I can only do so with your aid.”
“How so?”
He looked into her eyes. “My lady, I captain a vessel called The Cobra, which goes by the same name as my gaming hell, and a year ago I sailed into Algiers and while there visited a wise woman who is very dear to me. Her name is Shira Ria, la maga, or as some would say, the sorceress. Shira is known to read the palm of your hand, or offer you one of her special coffees and read the remains she spills onto a saucer. She is a foreseer, whom I’ve mentioned to Donnelly and Ashten.”
“How intriguing.” Captivated, she couldn’t look away. “Did she read your future?”
“Yes, although not only mine, but yours as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Shira told me of my past, my present, and my future.” His words were soft, gentle, reverent. “She informed me that one day I would meet two ladies, all in regard to a drawing and certain events that would unfold with stolen treasure. The name of the first lady would be Sophia, the name of the second, Olivia, which of course is your name and that of your sister.”
“How incredible. Please, tell me more.”
“Shira told me that you would need my aid, in a matter of the heart.”
“Indeed, I do.” She couldn’t deny that, not when Donnelly held her heart.
“Shira also shared with me that the lady who found the drawing would not be aware of all she knew, that I’m to keep her close until all is unraveled, that throughout the days ahead I shall be her guardian. My duty will be to keep you safe.”
“What of Olivia?” She fluttered a hand over her heart.
“The lady named Olivia would one day offer me an olive branch, the symbol of peace.”
“Olivia’s name is derived from the olive branch.”
“Shira insisted Olivia would one day be my saving grace, an angel sent to me at a time when I would need one the most.” He set a hand at her back and steered her to the next display. “One doesn’t take Shira’s words lightly, and so I must ask that you turn to me whenever you have need of aid. Send me word to my gaming hell and I shall come when you call.”
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