Full Steam Ahead (20 page)

T
wo hours later, Darius sat at a corner table in the only café Liberty boasted, jabbing a piece of fried ham with a questionably clean fork as Wellborn looked on. He’d crossed paths with his man on the outskirts of town and convinced him to circle back so they could discuss what information he’d been able to ferret out of the river pilot he’d come to town to meet.

Once entering town he’d had to post his parcels, and then he’d dug through every blasted blade the mercantile had to offer before Jacob managed to select one. Once they finally reached the café, he’d ordered their food—which apparently had to be butchered and cured after their order, considering how long it had taken to arrive—and all the while his tight-lipped butler had sat with that infuriatingly neutral expression on his face, hiding any clues Darius might have been able to glean.

“Spill it, Wellborn,” Darius growled impatiently. The wait was killing him.

“You’re not concerned the boy will overhear?” Wellborn
tipped his head toward a table a short distance behind him, where Jacob was gulping down a glass of milk and working to devour a slab of ham of his own.

Darius shook his head. “The boy’s focused on his food. And when that’s gone, he’ll no doubt drool some more over his new knife. Besides, I explained we needed to discuss a few matters. He won’t bother us.”

Wellborn raised a brow. “He might not bother us, but there’s a good chance he’ll hear. This place is as empty as a beggar’s purse.”

Darius glanced around the room as he shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. At nearly two in the afternoon, the three of them were the only patrons in the place. Even the staff had disappeared into the kitchen.

“Just keep your voice down,” Darius rumbled in a quiet tone of his own. “The boy will be fine.”

“All right, but part of what I have to say concerns him.” Wellborn leaned across the table and spoke so low Darius had to stop chewing in order to hear him clearly. “I visited with the sheriff again.”

Darius nodded. He’d asked Wellborn to check in with the lawman two days ago, after he’d offered Jacob a place at Oakhaven. The boy had refused to reveal his surname or provide any details about what had driven him from his guardian, but there was no doubt in Darius’s mind that it had been a grave offense. This boy was no idle runaway. Yet his conscience demanded he at least notify the law as to the boy’s presence. He couldn’t knowingly harbor a fugitive, no matter how justified.

“Has someone reported him missing?” Darius swallowed the lump of half-chewed food in his mouth, no longer tasting it. If Jake’s guardian showed up, he wasn’t sure what he
would do. Press charges against the man for abuse when the boy sported no scars?

Thankfully, Wellborn shook his head. “No. But Sheriff Davenport asked around a bit and heard of a man with a small spread north of here, near Cold Spring. The fellow took in his brother’s kids last year, after their parents died of influenza.”

“Kids?” Darius set his fork down and leaned over his half-full plate, his forearms pressing into the table.

“A boy and a girl.” Wellborn fell silent for a moment, cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then whispered, “The girl died a couple months back.”

“How?”

“The sheriff didn’t have any details. But he did say the man who took the kids in is a known drunk.”

Darius’s throat constricted. His eyes immediately found Jacob at the next table stuffing a whole biscuit into his mouth in one overlarge bite.

If Jacob had had a sister, Darius could easily imagine her death being the catalyst for his leaving. Especially if his uncle contributed to it in some way.

“The sheriff is in no hurry to volunteer information about Jacob’s whereabouts. Seems to think the boy’s better off away from that drunk of an uncle, even if he is blood kin, so he won’t pursue the matter unless the man comes looking for the boy.”

“Good.” Darius took a swig of his coffee. “And the other matter?” He picked up his fork and pressed the side of it into his ham to disguise his level of interest, though inside he churned with impatience.

Wellborn took his time answering. As if he knew this was the information Darius cared most about.

“Well?” he growled.

Did the edges of Wellborn’s eyes crinkle just a touch? The man was probably laughing his head off behind that proper mask of his. Impertinent fellow.

“Did you find Captain Stewart?” Darius pierced Wellborn with his most imperious, lord-of-the-manor glare. Not that it had any noticeable effect. The man was obviously immune. However, the directness of the question finally succeeded in loosening the man’s tongue.

“I did.” Wellborn dipped his head slightly. “He was good enough to spare me a few minutes of his time after he landed this morning.”

“Did he know of this Jenkins person and what business the man is in?” When Wellborn had asked around at the landing on Monday, he’d learned that Stewart was the man most familiar with the Galveston routes. Stewart had been farther up the Trinity delivering cargo, but the dock workers expected him back today, hence the second trip to town that week.

“Yes, he knew of a
Carson
Jenkins. The fellow apparently runs a coastal shipping company, his two main routes encompassing Cuba and New Orleans. The man’s not very well respected, it seems. Rumor has it that Jenkins isn’t above making an unscrupulous deal if it means enlarging his profits—though Stewart insisted he had no firsthand knowledge of such maneuvers.”

“Of course the man’s unscrupulous! His sons are hunting an innocent young woman.”

Wellborn gave a slight shake of his head and drew his eyes upward meaningfully. Darius clenched his jaw, realizing he’d spoken louder than he’d intended. He glanced past his butler to where Jake sat, his meal finished. Thankfully the boy was too busy admiring his new knife to give the adult conversation
any heed. Nevertheless, Darius grasped his temper with both hands and modulated his voice to a low rumble.

“What I need to ascertain is how far this Jenkins fellow will go in his pursuit of Nicole. Would he allow his sons to inflict bodily harm, or heaven help us, even kill her to get what he wants?”

Wellborn’s eyebrows shot to his carefully pomaded hairline. “Surely you don’t think he’d . . . ?”

“I don’t know what to think—that’s the problem. There are still too many missing pieces.” Darius dug the fingers of his left hand into the flesh above his knee with such force, pain ratcheted up his leg. “What of a competitor for Jenkins? Could Stewart shed any light on that?”

Wellborn eyed him intently, his mouth curving ever so slightly. “He did have a few observations of interest.”

Darius scowled at his butler. “Quit toying with me, man, and spit it out,” he growled. “You’ve tortured me enough for one afternoon.”

All hints of a smile vanished from Wellborn’s face as he nodded. “Very well, sir. It might interest you to know that Jenkins’s fiercest rival is a man by the name of Anton Renard. He has an outstanding reputation among pilots and businessmen alike. Efficient. Honest. Maintains quality machinery and knows how to make the customer happy.”

Darius seized upon the name. “And he’s French.”

“So it would seem,” Wellborn concurred. “Stewart said there was bad blood between the two that goes back many years, but he didn’t know the details. He spoke highly of Renard Shipping, though. Said it was a shame Anton Renard had no son to carry on the family business. Only a daughter, he believed.”

Wellborn casually lifted his cup to his mouth to sip his
coffee as if he hadn’t just dropped an informational gem worth more than a king’s ransom on the table between them.

Darius shook his head, a laugh of disbelief escaping him as he thrust his fingers through his hair. “Her father’s in shipping. Shipping!”

All this angst about finding an heir for her father’s business and here he sat, already an heir to one of the most successful shipping companies in the country. Renard would be hard-pressed to find a man with more knowledge of the industry to take over the helm of his company. Yet Renard had specifically charged his daughter with choosing a man from among his New Orleans contacts, someone who knew the local routes and could immediately step into the business. Darius lacked those associations. Not to mention the fact that he’d abandoned King Star Shipping for more than a year. Two strikes against him. Three, if she considered his rough social edges.

Darius sobered. Maybe convincing her of his suitability wouldn’t be as easy as he’d first thought. Nicole’s blind devotion to her father could still take her away from him. And even if he convinced her he was the best man to take over her father’s business, that only solved one of their problems. There was still Jenkins to deal with.

“I need to learn more about this bad blood between Renard and Jenkins. My gut tells me the answer to this entire mess lies somewhere in that dispute.”

But he only had six days. How was he supposed to find the answers he sought in such a short time when any overt action on his part could raise the suspicions of the very men Nicole was hiding from? Even the discreet questioning Wellborn had done for him increased the chance someone would suspect the reason for his interest. Yet he couldn’t just sit back and
wait for trouble to find them. If something should happen to Nicole . . .

Darius slumped forward. “I can’t lose her, Wellborn.”

The man held his gaze, strong and steady. Then his lips slowly curved. “Flora always said that when you fell, it’d be hard and fast. Guess she was right.”

Darius didn’t welcome the change in conversation, but he couldn’t deny the truth of Wellborn’s observation, so he held his tongue.

“We knew David would have a slow, polite courtship. That boy always does what’s expected. But you? Well, your mama despaired of any woman getting past that abrupt manner of yours to see what you have to offer. It’s a good thing they grow a hardier breed of females down here in Texas.”

“It’s not Texas, Wellborn. It’s Nicole.” Darius swiveled his head and glanced out the window, embarrassed to reveal his softer feelings, yet at the same time determined to give Nicole her due. “She’s young, but she has this wisdom about her that cuts through foolishness and lays bare the heart of a matter. She’s intelligent, unafraid to speak her mind, and loyal to a fault.”

That fault being blindly obeying her father’s request for an heir at the expense of her own happiness. But even then, he only faulted her steadfastness because of his own selfish desires. He didn’t want her giving herself to some rich New Orleans dandy with fancy manners and social charisma.
He
wanted her loyalty, her devotion, her love.

“Miss Nicole is quality, through and through,” Wellborn agreed. “A true woman of character. You’ve chosen well, Mr. Thornton.”

“Unfortunately, mine’s not the only choice that matters.” Darius turned from the window and regarded his butler—no,
his friend—with a serious air, allowing him to see a hint of the desperation clawing for purchase inside him. “She plans to leave me, Wellborn.”

“What?”

This time Darius was the one shooting meaningful glances to remind his companion to keep
his
voice down.

“You must be mistaken, sir.” The man looked genuinely rattled. Darius had never seen Wellborn rattled. Not even the first time he exploded a boiler on Oakhaven’s pond. “She mentioned no such plans to me, nor to Flora. I’m sure of it.” He fidgeted with the cuff of his perfectly pressed coat, and for a moment Darius thought he might actually
crease
the thing. But then he seemed to gain control of himself and smoothed the wool back into place.

“Perhaps you misunderstood. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Mr. Thornton. If I might be so bold, I’m quite certain she holds you in some esteem.”

Darius shoved his plate aside, his appetite irrevocably gone. No use staring at the stuff any longer.

“There’s no misunderstanding. She made her position quite clear to me just this morning. In six days, if I cannot convince her to stay, she will leave Oakhaven and never return.”

“But . . . why?” The plaintive tone in Wellborn’s voice nearly made Darius smile. The man was as besotted with the idea of Nicole joining the Thornton family as he was.

“I don’t feel comfortable sharing details of what she has told me in confidence, but I can tell you her reasons have nothing to do with any feelings she might have toward me or anyone at Oakhaven. She has made a promise to her father, and honor demands she fulfill it.”

The older man’s face crumpled, but only for a moment. As Darius watched, his butler stiffened his posture, threw back
his shoulders, and jutted his chin. “So what are we going to do about this development?”

Darius did smile then. Such a show of loyalty was heartening. “We’re going to find a way to help her keep her promise to her father without leaving us behind, and we’re going to make sure Jenkins and his men don’t harm a hair on her head in the process.”

An expression that was downright crafty slid over Wellborn’s features. “Would it help if I told you that a Mr. Edmund Whistler, formerly employed by one Carson Jenkins, is due in town this afternoon? He used to be a member of Captain Stewart’s crew, but he now works on board the
Polly Anne
. I checked the shipping schedules, and the
Polly
Anne
is scheduled to dock at three o’clock.”

“Then I suggest you be there to meet him, Wellborn.” He’d prefer to meet the boat himself, but a manservant would draw less notice than Oakhaven’s crazy, boiler-exploding landowner.

The butler gave a brisk nod. “My thoughts exactly, sir.”

Darius dipped his chin, an unspoken vow humming through the air between the two men. Rising to his feet, he pulled a few coins from his pocket and tossed them onto the table to cover the price of the meals.

Talking to Whistler at all was a risk. If the man still had ties to Jenkins, Nicole could be exposed. But if they didn’t talk to him, Jenkins might find her anyway, and Darius would be caught off guard. Better to fight an enemy you understood and could prepare for than one you knew nothing about.