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Authors: Johanna Lindsey
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been able to visit her or her children without sneaking
in to do it because his brother-in-law had found out Jory was a smuggler and assumed
Nathan was one, too.
But everything his nieces had had was gone now, taken back by their father’s family
when he’d died, killing Angie with him, because he’d been foxed and driving his carriage
too fast. Nathan hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d come to hate the nobility even
more than he already did when those heartless snobs turned their backs on their own
granddaughters just because they’d never approved of Angie. All the girls had left
were the fancy dresses that didn’t even fit them anymore, and an uncle who only hoped
to accomplish goals that a sane man would realize were impossible.
He ordered that pint, then another. He was starting to feel the anger that tended
to show up when he thought about his situation too long. Maybe what he should be looking
for this last night on land was a good fight.
Ale in hand, Nathan turned to glance about the room, looking for someone who might
accommodate him, but the tavern was so crowded, he didn’t doubt one punch would lead
to a full-scale brawl. While it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in jail
for starting one, he couldn’t afford for that to happen tonight if he wanted to get The Pearl back.
He started for the door, but turned about when five new customers stepped through
it and he recognized one of them. What the hell? Hammett Grigg’s men in London, of
all places? The last time he’d seen Mr. Olivey, Hammett’s first mate, who was the
one he recognized, had been in Southampton five years ago. Grigg and a handful of
his crew had tracked Nathan down to find out where Jory was holed up. Still furious
with his father, he’d told them he didn’t know and didn’t care. They’d actually had
him watched for a while, thinking he could lead them to Jory. But he never saw his
father again, and Hammett and his men finally found Jory on their own. . . .
Was the Cornish smuggler actually crazy enough to deliver a load of untaxed goods
to the biggest city in the country? Not using London docks, he couldn’t. He had to
be in London for some other reason, maybe to line up new buyers. But if his men were
here on the docks, Grigg might be nearby, too. Could Nathan really get this lucky
and find the man before Commander Burdis did?
Well, he’d wanted a fight. Trying to find out Grigg’s whereabouts would definitely
get him one, but he preferred that it take place outside if possible. Or he could
just wait and follow them when they left. Would he have time for that?
He glanced behind him without turning. The five men were still by the door, looking
about the room. There were no empty tables they could use. If they didn’t leave, they’d
be coming to the bar where Nathan was standing and that brawl would then be inevitable. . . .
Decision made, Nathan walked to the door and shouldered his way past them. Easy enough
to do when he was taller and brawnier than them. And as expected, they followed him
outside. Five of them against one of him would make them cocky. They just didn’t know
him well, and he’d like to keep it that way for a few minutes. Cocky men tended to
have loose lips.
“Leaving without paying your respects, boyo?” Mr. Olivey said, grabbing Nathan’s arm
to stop him. “Thought we wouldn’t recognize you?”
“Wot are ye doing ’ere, eh?” another asked. “Why ain’t ye—? Heard ye got locked up.”
“I heard you helped with that,” Nathan replied. “Where’s your boss? I’d like to thank
him.”
“ ’Ere now, don’t be blaming us ’cause you got careless, boyo.”
“I bet ’e’s plannin’ to wield ’is ’ammer in London. Now the revs got ’is ship, wot
else is there left for ’im?”
The men’s chuckles were cut short when Nathan gripped the man’s throat with one hand
and
in to do it because his brother-in-law had found out Jory was a smuggler and assumed
Nathan was one, too.
But everything his nieces had had was gone now, taken back by their father’s family
when he’d died, killing Angie with him, because he’d been foxed and driving his carriage
too fast. Nathan hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d come to hate the nobility even
more than he already did when those heartless snobs turned their backs on their own
granddaughters just because they’d never approved of Angie. All the girls had left
were the fancy dresses that didn’t even fit them anymore, and an uncle who only hoped
to accomplish goals that a sane man would realize were impossible.
He ordered that pint, then another. He was starting to feel the anger that tended
to show up when he thought about his situation too long. Maybe what he should be looking
for this last night on land was a good fight.
Ale in hand, Nathan turned to glance about the room, looking for someone who might
accommodate him, but the tavern was so crowded, he didn’t doubt one punch would lead
to a full-scale brawl. While it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in jail
for starting one, he couldn’t afford for that to happen tonight if he wanted to get The Pearl back.
He started for the door, but turned about when five new customers stepped through
it and he recognized one of them. What the hell? Hammett Grigg’s men in London, of
all places? The last time he’d seen Mr. Olivey, Hammett’s first mate, who was the
one he recognized, had been in Southampton five years ago. Grigg and a handful of
his crew had tracked Nathan down to find out where Jory was holed up. Still furious
with his father, he’d told them he didn’t know and didn’t care. They’d actually had
him watched for a while, thinking he could lead them to Jory. But he never saw his
father again, and Hammett and his men finally found Jory on their own. . . .
Was the Cornish smuggler actually crazy enough to deliver a load of untaxed goods
to the biggest city in the country? Not using London docks, he couldn’t. He had to
be in London for some other reason, maybe to line up new buyers. But if his men were
here on the docks, Grigg might be nearby, too. Could Nathan really get this lucky
and find the man before Commander Burdis did?
Well, he’d wanted a fight. Trying to find out Grigg’s whereabouts would definitely
get him one, but he preferred that it take place outside if possible. Or he could
just wait and follow them when they left. Would he have time for that?
He glanced behind him without turning. The five men were still by the door, looking
about the room. There were no empty tables they could use. If they didn’t leave, they’d
be coming to the bar where Nathan was standing and that brawl would then be inevitable. . . .
Decision made, Nathan walked to the door and shouldered his way past them. Easy enough
to do when he was taller and brawnier than them. And as expected, they followed him
outside. Five of them against one of him would make them cocky. They just didn’t know
him well, and he’d like to keep it that way for a few minutes. Cocky men tended to
have loose lips.
“Leaving without paying your respects, boyo?” Mr. Olivey said, grabbing Nathan’s arm
to stop him. “Thought we wouldn’t recognize you?”
“Wot are ye doing ’ere, eh?” another asked. “Why ain’t ye—? Heard ye got locked up.”
“I heard you helped with that,” Nathan replied. “Where’s your boss? I’d like to thank
him.”
“ ’Ere now, don’t be blaming us ’cause you got careless, boyo.”
“I bet ’e’s plannin’ to wield ’is ’ammer in London. Now the revs got ’is ship, wot
else is there left for ’im?”
The men’s chuckles were cut short when Nathan gripped the man’s throat with one hand
and
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