Patricia Potter (28 page)

What would happen to Adrian? She knew he could even be charged with piracy now, though she doubted that would happen. But he had assaulted and shot an officer. He had violated the neutrality laws. And she knew how much Phillips, and the American Government, wanted him. They had the excuse they needed now to hold him for the duration of the war.

She kept seeing Adrian’s face as his hands had been tied. Even then he’d dominated the room, permitting no emotion to show except the strain of a muscle in his cheek.

Oh, Adrian. What have I done?

The sea was calm, its color a deep, dark blue, like Adrian’s eyes. It had been a day and a half since the capture of the
Specter,
and the captain of the
Allegheny
said they would arrive in Baltimore later today. She had not mentioned her part in the crippling of the
Specter
to him; she couldn’t bear to mention it to anyone. She would have, though, if they had tried to take Socrates from her. But the Union captain had been the soul of courtesy, even tolerating Socrates’s snapping.

Where was Adrian now? The boarding officer had asked for irons, but surely …

She couldn’t bear to think of proud, restless Adrian in irons.

She felt a tug on the leash. She was keeping Socrates on one now, because she was afraid not to. He had already bitten two sailors, not to mention the wounded second lieutenant, his arm now in a sling, who glowered at them both whenever he saw them.

Socrates obviously missed his master. He searched every passing face, his expressive face anxious, and Lauren even imagined that he eyed her with accusation. The monkey ate little, and played even less. His only activity now was watching. As Lauren watched.

Adrian lay on the bed in the first officer’s cabin of the
Specter
, his wrists encased with heavy iron bands. He would have been lodged in the hold, he knew, if every inch of space hadn’t been filled with cargo. So he was locked in here, a guard outside.

The ship seemed eerily quiet without the noise of the engines, and the tow kept the ship rocking without engines or sail to stabilize her.

He’d had only a few moments to speak with his crew members, with Will, and that conversation haunted him. Will still didn’t understand how the shaft had been disabled. Adrian was afraid, however, that he did. Especially after Will told him Lauren had been in the engine room.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it. But the evidence was there.

He moved from the bed and stood, leg irons clanking on the floor, then paced restlessly in short, hobbled movements. The irons had already chafed his skin, and walking made the pain excruciating, but he had to do something or go mad.

Greenway, who had taken charge of the prize, had been almost apologetic as he ordered the irons, but he was taking no chances. The crew of a runner captured months earlier had retaken the ship from the prize crew, much to the embarrassment of the capturing ship and the United States Navy. The fact that Adrian had concealed a gun, and used it, had sealed the man’s decision.

Pain aside, the irons were galling and humiliating. A visible sign of defeat and surrender.

And betrayal. Another betrayal.

The pain from this one was even worse than the first. His heart, he knew now, had been more involved, much more involved. He hadn’t realized how much until now. Adrian suspected he would always have a raw, festering wound deep inside.

He’d had time to reason it all out. At first, he’d been puzzled. Lauren had not sought him out in Nassau. He’d done all the pursuing, and she’d done all the running. And then he’d realized it had been the running that so fascinated him.

A very clever girl, Lauren Bradley.

Adrian turned again, facing another blank wall. The cabin had been thoroughly searched before he was placed here, the mirror removed as well as any object that could possibly be used as a weapon. Greenway, unlike the younger officer, was thorough.

Lauren. He could think of little else. His mind recalled all their conversations, all their meetings, trying to find something that should have warned him. But there was little, except that elusive quality about her.

And why? She was definitely not a typical spy, if there was such a thing. He would still swear she was a virgin; no one was that good an actress. Her tentative responses, the wonder in her face as he kissed her, the shyness. Nor did he think she faked her attraction to him, the attraction that ignited between the two of them like a Roman candle.

Neither, he thought, could she pretend her affection for Socrates. The little monkey, Adrian had discovered, was rather a shrewd judge of character, and did not take easily to human beings.

Tired of the clank of chain against the bare wood floor, Adrian sat back down, his upper body against the wall of the cabin, and stared at the links binding his wrists. He wanted to hate her for this, but he couldn’t. He knew she must have had powerful reasons. But he wouldn’t trust her again. Not ever. Except with Socrates. He knew, in some unfathomable way, that the monkey was safe. It was odd—he trusted her in this one way but would never again trust her in any other thing.

Why, bloody blazes, why? A sense of duty? Patriotism? He suspected something more. She had spoken wistfully of a brother and father. Had they anything to do with this?

He brushed back his hair, glaring at the short length of chain between his wrists. He might as well get used to it. Bloody Christ. He would never get used to it. He closed his eyes against the thought of prison. This war had years left to run.

Why, damn it, Lauren, why?

But it was fruitless to speculate. It had been a mistake to trust again—a very costly mistake.

CHAPTER 15

With Socrates at her side on his leash, Lauren watched from the deck of the
Allegheny
as the prisoners were taken from the
Specter.

She knew she shouldn’t watch, and yet she felt drawn to the spectacle. She had read someplace that a criminal returns to the scene of his crime, and now she understood the compulsion.

Her hands dug into the railing of the ship as first the crew was marched away under heavy guard, and then Adrian. He was wearing the formal attire of a sea captain: a finely tailored gray uniform coat and blue trousers, a captain’s hat perched jauntily on brushed chestnut hair. But his wrists were shackled, and four men surrounded him.

Her heart stopped beating, a lump catching deep in her throat. The emotions of the past few days, so fierce and turbulent, all came back with a vengeance, and she held on to the railing for dear life.

Socrates, too, saw Adrian, and screeched, leaping against the leash. Lauren reached down and picked him up, holding him tight as the monkey fought to climb down, his chattering now a mixture of anger and anxiety.

As if in response to the frantic sounds, Adrian, who was stepping off the gangplank onto the wharf, looked up. His gaze went to the
Allegheny,
searching its deck until it found her. He stopped, surprising his guards, one of whom stumbled against him and said something. Lauren saw his expression harden for an instant, then he turned back to her, his mouth bending into a wry smile.

And then he winked. Lazily. Arrogantly. As if he owned the world.

Did he not know? Did he not realize her part in this? Lauren desperately didn’t want him to know she’d betrayed him. Better for him that he believe it bad luck. And yet, she felt even worse than before. Perhaps some of her guilt would be lessened by his knowledge, by his hatred.

As he turned away from her, she knew she would never forget that last flash of acknowledgment.

She heard footsteps behind her. It was the captain of the
Allegheny,
who also watched as Adrian and his guards disappeared into the crowd.

“Where will they take him?” Lauren’s voice was strained. The captain carefully averted his eyes. As far as he knew, she’d been a passenger on the
Specter
, and therefore a Southern sympathizer.

“The city jail, I suspect, until the government decides what to do with him. His crew will also be held there until the prize court makes a decision.”

“Prize court?”

“A court is held whenever a ship is taken, a formality to determine that the ship is liable to seizure.”

Lauren met the officer’s eyes. “You know, Captain, that the shooting of your lieutenant was an accident. If your … officer hadn’t attacked a helpless little …”

“Helpless?” The captain looked at Socrates with dislike. The monkey had bitten several of his men and disrupted the ship.

“He was just protecting me. And Captain Cabot was trying to protect both of us.”

The captain looked uncomfortable. “He should have surrendered his gun.”

“But …”

“There’s nothing I can do, Miss Bradley. The matter is now in the hands of the Naval Department.”

Socrates was making small sad clicking noises, and looking at her as if she’d betrayed him as well as Adrian. And she knew she had.

“And you, miss, where will you go? Is there any assistance I can give you?”

Lauren stiffened as she immediately made up her mind. She would go to Washington and see whether she couldn’t repair at least some of the damage she’d caused. She would plead with Mr. Phillips.

“You can have my trunk delivered to a hired carriage.”

“It would be my pleasure. But if there’s anything else, if you need any funds … ?”

Lauren looked up at him sharply. Did he know? She still felt as if she were wearing her own scarlet letter. Spy. Betrayer. But there was only kindness and concern in his eyes. She thought of Clay and the Union officer she’d seen at the Royal Victoria. Friends, now enemies. Principle divided them. Principle and geography. But what good was principle if it divided friends, if it resulted in killing?

How insane it all seemed now. Reality was Adrian. Adrian standing at the wheel of his ship. Adrian attacking three ruffians. Adrian, his wrists shackled, winking at her as if the world were still his. Adrian who was gone from her forever now.

“Miss Bradley? Do you need any funds?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Captain. You’ve … been very kind. But I’ll take the carriage to the train depot. I’m going to Washington.”

One of his dark bushy eyebrows lifted. “Washington?”

Lauren felt she didn’t owe him any explanations. She had thus far stayed to herself, refusing his invitations to share meals and taking hers alone in the cabin. She had not felt like socializing with the man who had taken Adrian and the
Specter
, although she was well aware of the irony of that feeling. She knew the Union captain had put her reticence down to Southern sympathies.

“I have … acquaintances there,” she said finally.

He nodded. “Well, then, I’ll get one of my men to fetch your trunk and escort you to the train.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say something else, then turned abruptly and left.

Lauren stayed on deck, watching the crowds swarm below. News apparently traveled quickly, and curiosity seekers were lining up along the dock to see the
Specter.
The ship, she knew from overheard conversation, would probably be put into service now as a blockade patrol boat. Suddenly that seemed very sad. She thought of the ship, Adrian’s ship, chasing Clay and the other blockade runners she had met.

What a poor spy she was!

She stayed there, watching as her trunk was brought up on deck, and then an ensign approached and introduced himself. “James Garver,” he said, “at your service. The captain said to see you safely on a train.”

Lauren nodded her thanks but shied away from the arm Garver offered. Somehow, it was like associating with the enemy.

Mr. Phillips had taught her how to attract attention, and now she would turn it back on him. She would win Adrian’s release. She must. And then what?

It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered beyond securing Adrian’s freedom.

She leaned over and picked up Socrates. “I promise,” she whispered to him. “I promise to get you back to your master.” And then she turned to the ensign. “I’m ready to go,” she said in a strong, determined voice.

Phillips was not in Washington when she arrived. She had sat in her room in an inexpensive boardinghouse for a week, making daily visits and always finding him gone. She was waiting in front of his office on the tenth day when she saw him. His face split into a broad smile as he asked her to enter and pulled up a chair for her.

“Miss Bradley, my congratulations. I … the country … owes you a great debt. I just returned from Baltimore, and we have reason now to hold Captain Cabot the rest of the war.” Triumph and satisfaction glittered in his eyes. “And we owe it all to you. It was, I take it, you who disabled the ship?”

Lauren forced back the dismay she felt. Reason, she told herself. “What … will happen to him?”

“He’ll be sent to Old Capitol Prison as soon as the prize court meets,” Phillips said, leaning forward in his chair. “And he’ll stay there, despite British protests.”

“The Old Capitol Prison?”

Phillips took a cheroot from a box on his desk. “It holds prisoners of state, Confederate military, and political prisoners. Our Captain Cabot is a bit of all of them. And finally, it’s the most secure prison we have.”