Dunham

Chapter 45

"It's done," Admiral Lord Hylton said tightly, staring over Elliott's head, out the window of his Parliamentary offices to the sun-drenched May day. "I was fortunate in Covarrubias. I think he will take good care of her."

Elliott swept off his ceremonial wig and opened his scarlet robes before dropping onto a sofa and putting his feet up. He had been standing all morning, bellowing at his fellow nobles in the Lords' chamber. "But he's taking her to Spain. How will you know?"

The admiral focused square on Elliott and sneered. "Do you think I would make this arrangement without ensuring I did the right thing?"

Ah. Of course he wouldn't. Elliott nodded approvingly.

"But now that that is finished, I must attend to another problem." He took a sip of brandy and savored it. "A man claiming to have been on Captain Fury's ship when she blew the blockade in Chesapeake contacted Rathbone ten days ago." Elliott looked at him questioningly. "You know the blockade wherein—"

"I heard something of it," Elliott murmured, trying not to smile at the memory. "I will assume, because we're discussing it, that he has valid information."

"We think. Since Rathbone can place Fury by sight and he thought the man yet another opportunist, he bid the man write a report and submit it the following day."

"What did it say?"

Hylton's jaw ground. "There is no report. He was found dead the next day and not a scrap of foolscap in his room."

"That's convenient," Elliott drawled, willing himself not to laugh and shifting in his chair in an effort to disguise his burgeoning cockstand. "Any clues?"

"He had a knife hole in his forehead," Hylton said dryly. "Thus we can safely conclude he did not die of natural causes. We believe it to be Fury or one of her men. We also believe they were awaiting his arrival to dispose of him. He had only just got into port the day before he reported to Rathbone. Since Rathbone has interviewed every person in his household—most of whom have been there for years—but turned up nothing, he has concluded the timing of the man's murder to be a coincidence."

Coincidence. God, how Elliott ached to have her underneath him again. "I was cashiered and you've been a rather lax correspondent since I was acquitted. Why are you telling me this?"

The admiral released a heavy sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Commander, I know that you have served this country well and faithfully for the last score years, and the king is very pleased with your efforts to keep the north coast free of smugglers. Not only that, but he is pleased with how well Tavendish Grange is doing and your stance on the American rebellion. But I am coming to you for help. We must find this woman. She is a wily adversary, and it would not do to underestimate her. She has outrun the rear-admiral twice and vanquished him once now, and that is not a simple undertaking."

Elliott was ecstatic. He could not have planned this better. "You want her alive, I presume."

"Most assuredly. 'Tis rumored she is Judas's lover." Elliott drew his brows together in feigned confusion, which prompted Hylton to explain. "We have had a large number of our ships go missing. We had heard rumors of a Captain Judas and his ship, the Silver Shilling, who had set about bedeviling the Navy, but thought they were sailors' tales of ghost ships and demon-bound crews and all manner of magical thinking. But according to Rathbone's report, he does exist and flies a Jolly Roger of a hanged man."

"That smacks of prophecy."

"We can only hope. He came out of nowhere and covered the privateer fleet's escape out to sea after Fury and the Hollander cleared the way. Rathbone believes that were it not for him, they could have sunk the Americans, even so handicapped. In any event, Judas somehow acquired Fury's figurehead and the dead man did state that the two of them are lovers, which confirms he does, indeed, exist."