So much needed to go right – the angle of the ship, the “sticky fire” formulation, the connections between the brass pipes, the right pressure in the furnace below. If anything went wrong, they could just as easily destroy the Calliope.
“Ready!”
A crewmember wearing blacksmith’s aprons over his clothes and leather gauntlets on his hands stepped up to the frame and lit a lamp below the lip of the nozzle. It burned smokily.
“Fire!”
The operator opened the nozzle and the hot mixture spewed out, igniting in the lamp flame. Liquid fire gushed short of the ship by a hundred feet and burned on the water for a minute before its fuel expended.
“Fall off! We need to get closer.”
The sails were adjusted to Kit’s command. Elias brought the Calliope in again, this time to the stern of their target.
This time, the Greek fire reached it. By the time the Calliope swung about and stood at a safe distance, the cheers from the crew had become a roar. Their practice target was fully aflame.
“Drop anchor!” said Kit. “Break open the rum. A toast! To the Calliope, her men, and to Greek fire!”
As he drank, an unexpected thought pierced him through: Sophia should have been here. The rum he swallowed soured his stomach, and he slipped quietly down the aft steps and into his cabin.
She was gone, and he had goaded her into it. He drained his glass and set it on the table. Something in the bookcase caught his eye. He unlocked the door and pulled out a set of ebony rosary beads. Sophia had left them behind. A quick look around the cabin told him it was the only thing of hers which remained.
Even the lingering smell of her lavender perfume was gone, thanks to the acrid smell of burning Greek fire.
He stared at the silver figure of Christ nailed to the cross and rubbed his thumb over the cold metal. Although it was miniature, he could see the agony etched on the figure’s face. He slipped the rosary around his neck and felt the crucifix settle on his chest.
He sat on his bunk and, through the stern windows, watched the target ship burn to the waterline.
He had to send Sophia away for her safety, but it had to be her own decision to go. The surest way to do it was to show her his true self, that ugly, damaged and scarred beast living inside him. He rubbed his face, conscious of the thickening bristles.
She left…
He slammed a fist against a wall and relished the agony of it. Of course she left! Any sane person would. The only problem was she also took every bit of goodness he possessed with her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Sophia!”
She stood up from the kitchen table at the sound of her name. Downstairs in the shop, she heard the sound of the door slamming and its bell jingled violently. Sophia met Morwena at the landing. Jonathan’s wife was a poised, somewhat reserved woman. To see her with disheveled hair alarmed her more than the look in her dark blue eyes. They showed worry; worse still, they wore a look of pity.
“What? What is it? Kit?”
“No, not Kit. The Triumphant has returned. It’s your cousins…”
She took a deep breath.
“Tell me everything while I dress.”
Accompanied by Jonathan, Sophia walked at a clip, as fast as her skirt and shoes would allow. Standing outside the protective inner harbor was a large ship, one of the biggest she had ever seen. A warship bristling with cannons along three decks. Beside her, the much smaller Triumphant was tied up – battle scarred, its hull listing a few degrees. Railings were missing. Scorch marks on its aft deck evidenced a battle fought.
She almost lost it then; hysteria rose in her throat. For a moment, it wasn’t the Triumphant she saw, it was the Calliope, and in her mind’s eye, she pictured Kit’s mangled and bloodied body.
Jonathan remained beside her as they hurried to the Hotel de France. Not Kit, she reminded herself. It was Samuel who had been shot.
She broke from her escort and rushed to her cousin’s side, ignoring the doctor who prepared medication, and the others in the room. Samuel lay in bed, his face pale, lines at his eyes and mouth indicated his pain. His arms were covered with cuts. A severe bruise discolored his temple.
“Samuel,” she asked with forced calmness, “where is Laura?”
His face told her much even before he uttered a word. “She’s gone. Oh God, Sophia, what am I going to do? Tell me what to do…”
Oh, to be like other women and burst into hysterical sobs, but she could not. The same numbness she felt when Kit had plunged off the cliff washed over her once again. Her voice was calm when she asked, “What do you mean ‘gone’? Is she… Is Laura dead, Sam?”
Samuel shook his head.
“They took her. They came alongside in a boat and took her, but no one believes me.”
“Who took her?”
“Brigands! Pirates!” Samuel took in a shaking breath. “There was a second boat, but no one believes me.”
The doctor approached, stirring a few drops of laudanum into a glass of water, which he persuaded Samuel to swallow. After a few moments, Samuel quietened down and drifted to sleep, the lines on his face smoothing.
For a horrible moment, Sophia envied him. It would so easy to find solace in the arms of the opiate, allowing it to dull the pain if only for a short while. How tempting it would be.
She thought of Kit. He had endured not just one traumatic incident but years upon years of physical and mental torture. Could she blame him for wanting something to take away the pain, to stop him feeling? Because feeling nothing was better than this pain.
“What happened?” she asked.
There was silence.
“Will someone tell me what happened?” she demanded.
One of the officers from the Triumphant introduced himself. He looked exhausted, a man who, in truth, had not slept for nearly three days.
“Pirates, Ma’am. We were two days out from Palermo when we saw them. They were gaining on us and fired across our bow. We did our best to outrun them, but they were firing volleys. If it wasn’t for the American ship showing up, we’d all be dead or chained to the oars by now.”
“Where is the captain?”
“He’s meeting with the governor, Ma’am.”
She glanced at Samuel, succumbed to a drugged sleep. She swept from the room with Jonathan following quickly behind. Without another word, she made her way up the familiar street to the palazzo that was the British Embassy.
Knowing she was not going to shake her escort, Sophia finally acknowledged him. “You heard him, Jonathan,” she said. “He said Laura was taken, not that she was injured, not that she was swept overboard. It’s the Corsairs, isn’t it?”
She entered the foyer of the building and eyed the stairs that led to William Bentinck’s office. They’d made it a quarter of the way before being stopped by a young officer.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, you can’t go up there, that’s the governor’s offices.”
“I know. Why do you think I’m going?”
“He’s a very important man, he—”
“And I’m on very important business.” She knew she had raised her voice and, with it, a hint of the Spanish accent she tried so hard to disguise. “An English ship has been attacked. An English citizen, an Englishwoman, has been abducted by the Barbary Coast pirates. If the governor doesn’t think that’s important, then I shall complain directly to Parliament. Petition the king if necessary. I will seek another representative, another government who will deliver justice!”
She pushed past the man, aided by Jonathan who deftly blocked him before the adjutant could grab her arm. On the landing, a door opened and two men who waited, one of them dressed in a navy uniform, were about to enter. Sophia saw her chance.
“Sirs!” she called out. “Are you here about the incident with the Triumphant?”
Both men glanced to one another. They both looked at her with guarded expressions.
“My name is Sophia Gr—Hardacre, Mrs. Hardacre. M
y cousins, Samuel and Laura Cappleman, were on the Triumphant. Samuel is injured and Laura is missing. I want to know what’s being done to find her abductors.”
The men looked to Jonathan who stood beside her. The young officer trailed in his wake.
“Mrs. Hardacre is the wife of Christopher Hardacre, captain of the Calliope,” said Jonathan, his voice instantly commanding. “I am Jonathan Afua, her navigator. Captain Hardacre is a good friend of Lord William. He will want to see the lady.”
A voice from inside the office called out. “Oh, bring her in! If that scoundrel Hardacre is on the loose, I won’t get any peace.”
The two men before them looked at each other, bewildered, but they deferred to the voice from inside the office and stepped aside. Sophia entered with Jonathan at her shoulder and the man she assumed was William Bentinck was before them.
“Take a seat… Mrs. Hardacre, is it?”
She could see skepticism written over the ambassador’s face. He had obviously given some thought as to what the wife of Kit Hardacre would look like and, clearly, she was not it. She raised her chin to look even more imperious.
“It is. And I prefer to stand. I want to know what is being done to find Laura Cappleman.”
The man’s face lost its faint amusement and become grave.
“Miss Cappleman is believed dead—”
“—No—”
“–having fallen overboard and drowned.”
“I refuse to believe that. Was there a search done? Where is her body?”
Behind her, the man in the naval uniform spoke. His accent was American.
“Ma’am, after we chased away the galiot, we searched until nightfall and again at first light. We recovered three bodies, but there was no sign of the young lady or the second boat her brother says he saw.”
Sophia felt her heart sink, and the expression must have been plain on her face because the man, middle-aged, tall, almost gangly with blue-black hair, regarded her with that hated emotion – pity.
“I’m Captain Randolph Peck of the US Navy frigate the Spirit of Liberty, Ma’am. On behalf of myself and my crew, may I say that I’m sorry for your loss?”
She stared back. “Is that all? Is this where the matter ends?”
Captain Peck ran a thumb over the felt of his hat. “Rest assured, we will deal with these accursed pirates. We’re having our differences with dear old England at the moment, but the rules of the sea apply to all decent men.”
Bentinck intervened, “You can be assured Miss—Mrs. Hardacre, that swift and punitive action will be taken.”
Jonathan caught her eye and inclined his head to the door. She looked from one man to the other, neither willing to continue the conversation.
“And you can be assured I do not consider this to be the end of the matter,” she replied.
She stalked out of the office, down the stairs, and into the street before her anger and her composure deserted her.
“Have I made such a great fool of myself? Could Samuel have made a mistake? He had a blow to the head…”
Jonathan put a hand on her shoulder once again.
“Go be with your cousin. Perhaps after he’s recovered, he can tell us more. Until then, I’ll take a look at the Triumphant. I have seen ships attacked,” – he leaned in – “and we’ve attacked a few ourselves. I know what to look for if there is anything to find.”
Sophia could have wept with relief. “Would you? You and Morwena are my only friends here.”
“Kit… you love him still, yes? I can see you do. Do not give up on him, Sophia. He is a good man and you are a good woman, but I know he frightens you. He sometimes frightens us, too. But there was a never a man who would do more for the people he cares about.”
“But who will look after him?”
“He has you. You give him what we cannot – the love of a good woman. Someone to come home to, someone who will accept him for who he is and love him.”
“I think it’s too late for that.”
“It’s never too late if you really love someone. Two become one flesh – remember your marriage vows?”
Sophia was ashamed to admit she couldn’t, her mind had been in a whirl; she could barely remember her own name that day.
“You cannot forget Kit anymore than you can forget your right arm. It’s the same for him. This storm will pass and you will be together, stronger.”
“How did you become so sure in the ways of marriage? You’ve been married less than two months yourself.”
“Ah,” he said, his face a beaming smile. “I have a very wise and loving wife.”
Daybreak saw Sophia in Samuel’s room where she dismissed the nurse for the morning. She picked up the bottle of laudanum the doctor left for Samuel’s pain and put it on the mantel – out of reach.
Samuel seemed to be sleeping soundly. He lay on his back, his shoulder strapped and set in a sling, his mouth open, snoring lightly. After an hour, he stirred. She pulled on the bell cord and told the answering servant to bring tea, and a ewer of hot water and a fresh towel. By the time he returned, Samuel’s eyes were open and clear.
“Do you need assistance?”
Her cousin shook his head and rose. He limped behind a screen that hid the chamber pot cupboard. She stepped out onto the balcony to let him attend to his ablutions in peace.
Her view over the sea westward was still shrouded in darkness. Sophia wondered whether Kit was still in the throes of his insomnia. Elias assured her he would sleep – eventually.
She missed him desperately. She wanted his arms around her and his assurance everything would be all right. Considering his fixation on destroying Kaddouri and his stronghold, he might not even remember she had gone.
She turned the band of gold on her ring finger. She had thought to take it off before going to bed last night and had even gone so far as to pull it over her first knuckle when she stopped. While she wore the ring, she was still married and could still imagine Kit loved her more than revenge.
The sound of a clattering teacup and a soft curse, brought her attention back to her cousin. Sophia hurried over and righted the cup before pouring tea for the both of them.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sophia. I’ve been thinking about our parting, and it pains me to know your last words and last thoughts of me were harsh.”
She concentrated on her task. This was not the conversation she wanted to have with him. As far as she was concerned, it was in the past. Only the present mattered now – finding Laura.
“Sit down,” she said softly. “You’re still weak.”
“That’s been my problem, isn’t it? I’ve always been weak. I should have…”
Sophia was no less anxious and no less exhausted than he. Her patience was at end. “There is no time for self-pity,” she said, “not when Laura is missing.”
“You believe me? No one else does.”
She placed the cup before him and watched him slowly take a sip over his still swollen lip.
“Tell me everything you can recall from the day Laura went missing.”
Samuel lowered his cup and slumped back into the chair. He closed his eyes.
“I wasn’t really paying much attention to the other ship, not until it fired on us. Then it gained quickly. The first officer started to arm the crew. My first concern was for Laura. I was taking her down to the cabin when I noticed a small boat very close to the ship on…” He frowned in concentration. “It was the port side. I told Sophia to lock herself in the cabin and barricade herself in and not answer to anyone but myself or the captain.
“I was going back up on deck when I was shoved down the stairs by someone coming below.”
“Did you see who it was?”
He shook his head and winced, raising a hand to where a bandage covered a large cut at the temple. “Not really, it was bright out on deck. I only saw them in silhouette in the doorway.”
“There was more than one?”
“Two that I was awa
re of. I got up and fought them, and I’m pretty sure I landed a few as well.” He flexed his hand. Sophia glanced at the bruised fingers.
“Did they say anything to you?”
“Not to me, well, not in a language I understood. Just a lot of foreign gibberish. No, there was a third man. He shouted something to the other men who let me go. I tried to rush the new man, and it was he who shot me… And that’s all I can remember.”
“And you’re sure you saw a small boat.”
“Of course I am! I was asked the damned question over and over again. I know what I saw. You believe me, don’t you Sophia? I didn’t imagine this.”
She went to Samuel’s side and rested a hand on his good shoulder.
“I believe you. And we won’t stop looking for her, I promise. Do you feel up to eating? I’ll have breakfast brought up.”
While Samuel breakfasted, Jonathan arrived with news.
“I went aboard the Triumphant at first light this morning. She’s in a sorry shape.”
“Did you find anything?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I saw claw marks on the deck and scrapes on the port rail which looked like marks made by grappling hooks. Below deck, the cabin assigned to Miss Cappleman had the door broken off its hinges. No other cabin suffered such damage. It doesn’t add up. Corsairs usually attack directly. I’ve never heard of them using a second vessel, a clandestine boat, to raid a ship, much less take only one person.”
Sophia closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and allowed the facts to fall together.
“Someone knew which cabin Laura would be in and went to a great deal of effort to take her,” she said. “If not for the arrival of the American ship, the Triumphant would have been taken, and everyone would blame the pirates…”
Selim Omar.
Sophia opened her eyes and looked into Jonathan’s face, which went from surprise to suspicion. “Before you do anything hasty, we should wait for Kit.”
“Kit’s not here. Kit’s in no fit state to do anything. And besides, if we sent a message to him today, it would be days before he could be here.”
Regency Scandals and Scoundrels Collection Page 163