A Reckless Encounter

“I’m not at all sure I appreciate your delving into my private business concerns, Mowry. There are areas in my personal life that are not open for your review.”

“Certainly, unless you happen to be involved in illegal activities.”

“Are you making an accusation?”

“No, a point. One hand should know what the other is doing. The Inland Revenues do not care to be cheated, nor do the Revenue cutters like chasing boats with men who shoot at them.”

“None of which has anything to do with me.”

Mowry’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That has yet to be proven. His Majesty’s taxes are expected to be paid on goods that come into this country, even goods that come by way of the back door.”

Dammit, his father would destroy them all one day.

“If you’re insinuating that I’m smuggling goods from my own ships into the country, you’re wrong. I wouldn’t take the risk for a negligible amount of money.”

“Perhaps not, but it seems likely that not everyone in your firm feels the same way. Investigate it, Northington, and I think you will be surprised. Heed me well. Not every head that rolls in these situations is guilty, but if they must be sacrificed, it is done. But you know that.”

“Yes,” he said grimly. “I know that.”

With a frosty smile, Mowry said coolly, “Excellent. I look forward to our next meeting, gentlemen.”

It sounded almost like a threat.

PART IV

“All for Love, or the World Well Lost.”

—John Dryden

28

It had been hours since Lord Easton had left her to her own, and Celia hadn’t slept at all. She was too tense, too nervous, and there seemed to be no way out. Oh God, what would happen if she didn’t leave willingly? Would he truly deport her? He could, and she’d end up in Australia or even India, or some other territory. She had no illusions that he would take sudden pity on her. There had been steel in that voice and his eyes—a family trait, no doubt.

She could tell when the sun came up, because slivers of light poked through chinks in the wall. There was no window, no avenue of escape, and she paced fretfully.

When voices outside penetrated her despair, she whirled around to face the door, and braced herself for another interview with Lord Easton.

But to her surprise, the man who entered was a friendly face. She flung herself at him, crying out with relief.

“Sir John! How did you ever find me? Oh, it doesn’t matter, nothing matters but that you’ve come to help me. I cannot believe that you’re here—”

Harvey smiled, his hazel eyes regarding her with an expression she couldn’t read. He gently put her back from him a little bit.

“Miss St. Clair—Celia, it’s not quite what you think. I wish it was, but I’m afraid I cannot do anything for you. It’s beyond my help.”

“What do you mean? Has Lord Easton threatened you, too? Oh, he wouldn’t send both of us away. He couldn’t! It’s not the same with you as it is me, and he couldn’t get away with it. What has he told you? Has he told you everything?”

Sir John looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s beyond my help,” he said again, helplessly. “I wish you’d stayed out of this.”

“Out of what? I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m not at all certain it has anything to do with me. Does this have something to do with that map?”

“Map?” He gave her a blank look. “I know nothing about a map. All I know is that you’ve managed to earn a powerful enemy.”

Taken aback, she stared at him. “An enemy? If you mean Moreland, there’s a reason for that.”

“Reason or not, it’s done.”

Agitate