A Buccaneer At Heart. Stephanie Laurens

most likely?”

      Declan twined his fingers with Edwina’s. “Gold and diamonds.”

      “I assume not together, so what’s your best guess?”

      “If I had to wager, I’d go for diamonds.”

      Robert had a great deal of respect for Declan’s insights into all matters of exploration. “Why?”

      Declan’s lips twisted. He glanced at Edwina. “I’ve been thinking about why those behind this have chosen to take young women and children—what uses they might have for them. Children are often used in gold mines to pick over the shattered ore—they’d be just as useful in mining for diamonds, at least in that area. But young women? They have no real role I can think of in gold mining. But in mining for diamonds in that area?”

      Gripping Edwina’s hand, Declan looked at Robert. “The diamonds there are found in concretions, lumped together with other ore. Separating the ore from the stones is fine work—not so much precision as simply being able to work on small things. Young women with good eyesight could clean the rough stones enough to reduce their size and weight so that the final product, while keeping its value, would fit into a relatively small space—easy to smuggle out, even by mail.”

      Declan held Robert’s gaze. “If I had to guess, I would say our villains have stumbled on a pipe of diamonds and are busy retrieving as many stones as they can before anyone else learns of the strike.”

      * * *

      Later that same day, in a tavern in Freetown located on a narrow side street off the western end of Water Street—an area frequented by clerks and shopkeepers and others more down at heel—a man rather better dressed than the other denizens sat nursing a glass of ale at a table in the rear corner of the dimly lit taproom.

      The tavern door opened, and another man walked in. The first man looked up. He watched as the second man, also better dressed than the general run of the tavern’s clientele, bought a glass of ale from the man behind the counter, then crossed the room to the table in the corner.

      The men exchanged nods, but no words. The second man drew up a stool and sat, then took a deep draft of his ale.

      The sound of the door opening reached the second man. His back was to the door. He looked at the first man. “That him?”

      The first man nodded.

      Both waited in silence until the newcomer had bought an ale for himself and approached the table.

      The third man set his glass down on the scarred surface, then glanced around at the others in the taproom before pulling up a stool and sitting.

      “Stop looking so damned guilty.” The second man raised his glass and took another sip.

      “All very well for you.” The third man, younger than the other two, reached for his glass. “You don’t have an uncle as your immediate superior.”

      “Well, he’s not going to see us here, is he?” the second man said. “He’ll be up at the fort, no doubt busily sorting through his inventory.”

      “God—I hope not.” The younger man shuddered. “The last thing we need is for him to realize how much is missing.”

      The first man, who had silently watched the exchange, arched a brow. “No chance of that, is there?”

      The younger man sighed. “No—I suppose not.” He stared into his ale. “I’ve been careful to keep everything we’ve taken off the books. There’s no way to see something’s missing if according to the books it was never there.”

      The first man’s lips curved without humor. “Good to know.”

      “Never mind that.” The second man focused on the first. “What’s this about Lady H? I heard through the office that she’s decamped on us.”

      The first man flushed under his tan. His hands tightened about his glass. “I was told Lady H had gone to visit family, and for all I know, that might still be the case. So yes, she’s gone, but as she knows nothing about my connection to our operation, she didn’t see fit to explain her reasons to me. I asked around—indirectly, of course—but apparently Holbrook doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”

      “So we might have lost our ability to vet our kidnapees?” The second man frowned.

      “Yes,” the first man replied, “but that isn’t what most concerns me.” He paused to take a sip of his ale, then lowered the glass and went on, “Yesterday, I heard from Dubois that Kale claims he lost two of the three men he sent to the governor’s house to fetch some lady Lady H had sent word to them to come and get.”

      The third man looked puzzled. “When was that?”

      “As near as I can make out, it was fifteen nights ago. Three days before Lady H sailed. I spent the evening in question dealing with dispatches, so I knew nothing about it at the time.” The first man paused, then more diffidently went on, “From what I could gather, it was Frobisher’s wife, Lady Edwina, who came to see Lady H that evening, but I can’t be certain Lady Edwina was the lady Lady H called Kale to come and get, and I see no point in asking too many questions of the governor’s staff.

      “According to Dubois, Kale said that the lady his men picked up was drugged and asleep. All his man—the one who survived—could tell him was that the lady had golden hair. In their usual team of three, Kale’s men wrapped her in a rug and carried her out through the slum behind the house, but then they were attacked by four men—sailors, according to the survivor. The sailors killed two of Kale’s men and took the lady back. Kale’s third man ran, but then doubled back and trailed the sailors to the docks. He saw them get into a tender and be rowed off, but in the dark, he couldn’t tell which ship they boarded.”

      The second man continued to frown into his glass. “If I’m remembering aright, Frobisher’s ship was in the harbor that night. It wasn’t there the next day—they must have left on the morning tide.”

      The first man humphed. “Word is that they—Frobisher and Lady Edwina—were on their honeymoon and were headed to Cape Town to visit family there. If that’s so, then even if it was Lady Edwina who Lady H drugged—God alone knows why the silly bitch would do such a thing, but if she did—I can’t imagine we’ll hear any more about it.”

      The third man stared at the first. “But...surely Frobisher will lodge some sort of official complaint with Holbrook?”

      The first man grinned. “I doubt it. Lady Edwina’s the daughter of a duke—very highly placed within society in London. I really can’t see Frobisher wanting to draw attention to his wife being in the hands of the likes of Kale’s men, in the night, in the slum, no one else about. Not the sort of thing he’d want known about his wife.”

      “I agree.” The second man nodded. “He’s got her back, and by the sounds of it, no harm done. He’ll leave it at that.” He paused, then added, “If Frobisher had wanted to make anything of it, he wouldn’t have sailed without pounding on Holbrook’s desk. He didn’t, so I agree—that’s that.” He cut a glance at the third man. “No need to borrow trouble on that account.”

      The first man leaned his chin on one hand. “And I don’t think we need to fear Lady H giving us up to anyone, either. She has far more to lose than we do. The only reason she agreed to Undoto’s suggestion was for the money—that’s really all she cared about. And if it was Lady Edwina she tried to drug and send off to Kale, then once she learned that Lady Edwina had been rescued, I can quite understand Lady H wanting to make herself scarce. I would, too. But if that’s the case, it’s better for us that she’s taken herself off—we wouldn’t want her to be waiting here to be asked any awkward questions if any are ever directed this way.”

      The second man grunted. “She doesn’t know enough to point the finger at us, anyway.”

      The first man dipped his head. “True. But she might have pointed at Undoto, or given up her contact with