Catching the amused gleam in Deverill’s eye at the notion of her swooning, she went on quickly. “Mr. Deverill told me that you were a charming gentleman, monsieur, and that you two were once friends and compatriots. I very much hope that you are willing to let bygones be bygones, instead of remaining enemies.”
“Even though he sought to kill me?” Louvel retorted, glaring anew.
“Had he truly wanted to kill you, I imagine he would have succeeded,” Kate said with another winsome smile.
Louvel stared at her, but after a moment, his glower eased a measure. “C’est vrai. Very true. He allowed me to vent my anger without carving out my liver. But did this dog also tell you that he gave me this scar?”
“A scar that only makes you more intriguing to the ladies, no doubt.”
His jaw remained stubbornly set, but his resistance was weakening, Kate could tell. In a further sign that she had managed to defuse his anger, Louvel shook his head as his lips twisted in a grudging grin. Fleetingly, he even eyed her with new respect before giving a low, rough laugh.
She didn’t trust that oily laugh, or care for the way the pirate was ogling her, his dark eyes raking her contemplatively from head to toe.
Neither did the blond lady, judging by her expression.
She had made herself Louvel’s target, Kate realized. And although that was far better than having him attack Deverill in retaliation for an imagined offense that occurred many years ago, she didn’t want to make an adversary of the woman from the very start.
Moving close to Deverill, Kate slipped her arm in his. “Darling,” she said lovingly, “we should petition Monsieur Louvel to assist us. I am certain he could be an immense help.”
“Perhaps.” Deverill covered her hand possessively and addressed Louvel. “I want to hire a crew to search for the shipwreck, and you are the logical choice to lead the effort.”
Louvel’s look turned calculating. “For what reason should I assist you?”
“Because it is a highly lucrative proposition. Fifty guineas as surety, quadruple that amount if the wreck is located and salvaged in the next fortnight.”
The pirate rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then nodded. “I am willing to consider your proposition. Will you join us for refreshments so we may review the details?”
—
The beauty, who was introduced as Mademoiselle Gabrielle Dupree, greeted them warily, then left to fetch more wine. Before getting down to bargaining, Louvel questioned what was known about the shipwreck.
Deverill explained about the explosion and fire and how the Zephyr had turned toward shore near St. Georges before sinking. In turn, the pirate pointed out the
difficulty they would face in finding the site after so many years. Additionally, the depth of the water would greatly affect the chance of success, limiting the light by which to see and the air to breathe. And salvage would be impossible if the pressure was more than a man could withstand while diving.
“Yet the wreckage could be in shallow enough water,” Deverill said. “The floor of the estuary here is said to be from three to six fathoms deep—feasible for experienced swimmers.”
Since a fathom equaled six feet, Kate judged the maximum depth to be thirty-six feet, which Louvel conceded was achievable.
“Furthermore,” Deverill continued, “Miss Wilde’s cousin has engineered a diving apparatus designed to extend breathing time. As for divers, my own shipmaster can supply two such seamen as well as nets and longline hooks to drag the seafloor. However, my schooner is too large to maneuver easily in these waters. So from you I would need several smaller sailboats and crews.”
Just then Mademoiselle Dupree returned with a young male servant, who carried a tray laden with wine and two more glasses. She poured the wine while Louvel sought to increase the payment.
“For the commission, I require four hundred guineas, half now.”
Deverill countered, “I could agree to four hundred, but you’ll get a quarter now in gold. Another quarter if you locate the correct ship, and the final half upon salvage.”
A sly glint flickered in Louvel’s eyes. “What is this? You believe that I would cheat you?”
Deverill flashed a slow grin. “Any self-respecting brigand would attempt it.”
“C’est vrai,” Louvel admitted.
“But you heed your own code of honor, so I’ll wager I can trust you.”
“That is also true.”
When still Louvel hesitated, Kate chimed in. “There may have been other treasure on board the Zephyr—jewels belonging to my French kin. If so, you may claim it all. I only want a signet ring that belonged to my father, if it can even be found. For sentimental reasons, you understand, since it is not especially valuable.”