“Oh,” he turned to look at the man then, a smile spreading across his lips for the first time all morning. “In that case, I run a gaming hell. And I pride myself on sensing when a man is bluffing. I’ll do my best to help you on that account.”
The steward smiled back. “Well, then. Excellent.”
But an hour later, he was growing defeated. It seemed as if every crate was there, every man accounted for, and every crew member genuinely eager to please the king. He leaned over the side of the rail, his hands resting on his head. His big grand gesture was turning into a dud.
Eliza would be furious, and he didn’t even have good news to soften her irritation. He should have left a note. But truly, he hadn’t been able to find parchment or quill and he’d assumed he wouldn’t be that long. Which was always his folly. Not thinking all the details through.
And then he saw something.
A rowboat tied just off the side of the ship with three small crates loaded in it. They had the logo of the Crown and Chinese symbols on the sides.
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In the congestion of the Thames, the two men in the boat were silent and as they loaded a fourth crate into their little boat, another man jumped from the ship into the rowboat and untied the rope holding it to the ship.
The man who’d jumped in turned toward Dylan and that’s when he realized it was the exact same Scot he seen with Dishonor yesterday. Surprise and anger coursed through him.
“Bullocks,” he said through clenched teeth as he started moving through the back of the ship.
The theft had happened in a matter of seconds and everyone was so busy…was he the only one who’d noticed?
But by the time he’d made it to the back of the boat, they were already rowing away.
Damn. His hands itched with the need to do something. He’d lose the Scot. Did he jump in the water?
Find a boat to follow?
The Scot looked up and the two men’s gazes collided.
The Scot stared for a second before he held a single finger to his lips and then continued rowing.
Dylan blew out a frustrated breath and then he realized…Dishonor would know where to find the man.
If they could trust Dishonor at all. What did they know about the man besides the fact he’d saved the girls once? Then he let out a short cry of frustration. That was something.
What did he do?
Running his hand through his hair, he knew.
He went to Eliza and Bash. They’d surely be able to help him.
If Eliza didn’t kill him, or worse, end their engagement.
Fear rippled through him. Perhaps he should chase the thieves instead. They’d likely be kinder than his fiancée. How mad would she be that he’d gone off without her?
Chapter Sixteen
Eliza had paced for much of the morning, wringing her hands and obsessively looking at the clock on the mantle.
Because she couldn’t tell Bash what she’d done last night, she didn’t know how to say that something was wrong.
Dylan had left. After confessing his love. Why?
She had asked Bash at breakfast where Dylan lived but the other man had only chuckled. “You’ll know soon enough. I hope you’re up for the redecoration. It’s going to be a big job.”
She’d waved her hand. “Emily will help me. I’m more concerned about where he might be right now. He’d said he’d come.” She grimaced at the lie, but Bash didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. It is only eight in the morning. How early did he say he’d arrive? If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a letter to the king requesting an audience. It’s time we started getting some answers.”