The Iron Duke (14 page)

“A good one, inspector.”

And so she’d be telling a good man that his grandson was dead. “There are many types of good men. Is he soft and kind, a man who easily gives into his emotions? Generous? Strongly principled? I need to know what I can expect.”

The duke nodded and seemed to think it over, as if he didn’t make a habit of nailing his friends down with words. “He doesn’t make rash decisions. Quick, but not rash. And he won’t hold his men to a higher standard than himself, won’t expect more effort from them than he puts in. And he’ll give a man a second chance. But not a third.”

Was this Trahaearn’s idea of a good man, or a good
captain
?

Perhaps to him, they were the same thing. “So he’s different from the captain you mutinied against when you first took the
Terror
?”

“Adams wasn’t worth the shit I left him bleeding in. But I wouldn’t have known that if I hadn’t served under Baxter first.”

Mina doubted that. According to every account of the mutiny she’d read, Adams had been a brutal, murderous despot. Mutiny had been inevitable. If not Trahaearn, then it would have been someone else who’d led the crew against him.

She smiled slightly. “And so that is my answer. Baxter is the type of man who can inspire a young sailor to mutiny on another man’s ship.”

Trahaearn grinned. “Yes, hold Baxter responsible for it. I still do.”

No, he wouldn’t. Not truly. Mina couldn’t admire what the duke had done, but she’d never seen him shift blame to someone else. He owned up to the decisions he’d made, and their consequences.

And why not? He’d got a dukedom out of them.

“Have you been in contact with the admiral recently?”

“Not recently, no.”

“So Haynes’s death probably wasn’t about your connection to Baxter, but the connection to your ship.”

“Most likely.”

“Why not strike at you personally, then? Why use
Marco’s Terror
? You’ve given her over to the navy. She’s not yours anymore.”

He tensed beside her. “Make no mistake, inspector. She’s
mine
.”

Fierce possession loaded his voice. Mina hadn’t expected that. “Why give her over to the navy, then?”

He didn’t answer.

All right. Perhaps that was the wrong question, anyway.
Anyone who didn’t know him well would have probably thought the same as she did: Giving the
Terror
up suggested that he didn’t have a strong attachment to it. “Who else would know that you still think of
Marco’s Terror
as your ship?”

He stared at her before slowly nodding. “Not many. That will narrow it.”

Good.
She took a long breath, feeling the need to steady herself, and wound up light-headed instead. The steamcoach jolted through a rut, jarring her into warm muscles as hard as steel. Quickly, she scooted over again, and though she didn’t see him follow, Mina was certain the duke took up more space than he had before.

She confirmed that an inch of empty seat still lay between them. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how much farther they had to go before they reached Baxter’s. It felt as if they’d driven through these streets for miles.

But if she had a few more minutes, then she had a few more questions.

“Of those who it can be narrowed to, how would they treat the crew? They’ve killed the captain. But what of the rest?”

“Inspector.” Though his response was soft, she heard him over the engine. When she lifted her gaze to his, he said, “Do you want to hear all of the possibilities, or only those that leave your brother alive?”

She hadn’t thought he’d remember. “Dead is dead. So tell me what might bring him home.”

“Most would keep the ship rather than sink her—and if they don’t have a crew, then they don’t have the
Terror
. They’ll kill the lieutenants and the marines, but not the others, so long as they fall in line. So he would just have to remain aboard until I find him.”

A terrible constriction around her chest eased. Andrew was an intelligent boy. He’d stay alive, keep his head down and follow orders.

“And the
Terror
is carrying eight men—not much older than boys—all training in the diplomatic corps. Every one of them comes from a merchant family in Manhattan City or London.”

Her heart leapt. “Do you believe the boys will be ransomed?”

“Whoever took the ship would be fools to pass up the money. They’ll ransom anyone with connections—including the younger son of an earl.”

Slowly, her heart fell back into place. Even if her family sold everything they had, would it be enough? “How much would they ask?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’d pay it for you.”

Her laugh was short and hollow. Of course he would. “At what price?”

His eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t your brother be worth it?”

A man raised in a crèche might not understand how much Mina valued her family. And so she’d forgive him that question, just this once.

But she couldn’t prevent the bitterness from claiming her voice. “Yes, Your Grace, he is. Which means that I would be in your service for a very long time, because Andrew’s worth is a hundred thousand times greater than any man who uses a threat on his life to strong-arm me into bed.”

Amusement touched his hard mouth. “I take my opportunities where I find them, inspector.”

 

 

A bitter knot was still lodged in Mina’s chest when they
arrived at the admiral’s residence. Newly built in a less ostentatious version of the Gothic-style that the bounders favored in both their homes and their churches, the admiral’s house featured steeply pitched gables and narrow windows that rose into pointed arches. Mina expected a dark and forbidding interior, but a butler led them past light, airy rooms to a study that looked out over a small garden and the river.

At first glance, the man who’d made such an impact on the Iron Duke didn’t appear even half as formidable. He waited at the window with hands clasped behind his back, a thin gray-haired figure in a somber jacket who stood not much taller than Mina. He turned as they entered. A short beard softened his austere features, but couldn’t soften the impression of steel and solid good sense when Mina met his eyes, or the quiet regret that lay behind them.

“Anglesey.” The admiral’s troubled gaze sought the duke. “I’ve just received the gram, yet you are already here. So you must have heard that she is lost—and that I have failed to keep her safe, as I promised you.”

Received the gram?
Mina bit back her dismay. Apparently, Hale’s updates had beaten them to Chatham—forwarded to the admiral by some unthinking fool. A wiregram was the poorest way to deliver this sort of news.

Trahaearn frowned. “And you must know that I wouldn’t come to blame you.”

“Only because you have not yet heard the worst.” With a grim smile, the admiral strode to his desk and poured a finger of amber liquid into a snifter. “I not only failed to keep her safe, I
sent
her into danger. And my grandson with her. God help him, wherever he might be.”

The duke’s brows drew together. He glanced at Mina, and his puzzlement mirrored hers.
Wherever he might be?
Had the wiregram not told Baxter how they’d known the
Terror
was lost?

Realization crossed the duke’s expression, and he looked to the admiral again. But he didn’t speak. Perhaps having trouble finding the words to tell him.

Mina could make that easier for him—and more importantly, for the admiral.

“Sir.” Mina stepped forward. “It is my sad duty to inform you that your grandson, Roger Haynes, was found dead in London this past evening.”

“In
London
?” Mouth open, he glanced to Trahaearn, as if for confirmation. When the duke nodded, he dropped heavily into the chair behind his desk.

Mina sensed that not much shocked the man—and that being informed of Haynes’s death hadn’t surprised him. But the
location
had. She took a seat facing him.

“Sir, your grandson was supposed to be en route to the Caribbean. Last night, however, his body was delivered to His Grace’s estate. Do you have any idea why?”

He looked to Trahaearn as the duke sat next to Mina. “Delivered?”

“Dropped.”

Trahaearn didn’t soften it—and perhaps he didn’t need to. The admiral appeared to be recovering from his shock.

Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “From
Bontemps
?”

Bontemps
. That infamous airship had been captained by Dame Sawtooth, a pirate with a reputation almost as notorious as the duke’s. The newssheets speculated that she was either dead or in hiding—she hadn’t preyed on any merchant or passenger ships in almost a decade. Not since the Iron Duke had destroyed the tower.

Trahaearn frowned. “The Dame hates me well enough, but she hasn’t flown in years. Why would you think that she took the
Terror
?”

“This arrived from the Admiralty.” He pushed a half-sheet wiregram message across the desk. Trahaearn leaned forward to retrieve it. “Roger’s name wasn’t listed among the others’, and so I knew.”

A list of ransomed hostages.
Her breath locking in her throat, Mina came out of her chair and looked over Trahaearn’s shoulder. She didn’t read the opening message, but scanned the wiregram machine’s heavy type, searching for a name. Then scanned the message again, hoping that she’d simply missed it, but she couldn’t force the words to appear.

Chest aching, she returned to the head of the message and read slowly. By the end of it, her panic had become a dull pain that she shoved to the rear of her mind. She
would
learn what had become of Andrew and make certain that he was safe. But she couldn’t know now, however much she wished it. Haynes’s murder, however, still lay in front of her, and she
could
pursue that.

She returned to her seat. According to the message Baxter had received, the ransom demands had been sent from a wiregram station in Dover to the Admiralty building in London at almost the same time that Mina had been boarding the train for Chatham. The ransom payments were to be collected and sailed across the Channel to Calais in two days’ time, and the money left on the beach. When payment had been verified, the boys would be returned to England.

Trahaearn returned the half sheet to Baxter. “An idiot wrote those demands.”

“Why an idiot?” Mina looked from the duke to the admiral. “They seem rather straightforward.”

“They would be, if not for the Dame having lived in Calais for the past eight years. She’d never bring the navy to her doorstep.” Trahaearn shook his head. “She isn’t this foolish.”

“The gram confirmed that
Bontemps
had been seen near Dover,” Mina pointed out.

“With someone else at the helm, most likely. And if someone botched that ransom demand, she won’t be staying in Calais much longer.” He caught Mina’s gaze and smiled slightly. “So we’ll go and ask her where the
Terror
is now.”

To Calais?
Zombies roamed all of Europe—and what had once been the French coast was no exception.

Mina’s heart thudded and fear worked along her spine, but she nodded. From across the desk, Baxter regarded her with a quiet curiosity, as if he’d just realized that she was in the room, and didn’t know what to make of her presence in the midst of all this. Even as he watched her, however, his gaze seemed to lose focus and the few lines on his face deepened with grief or worry—or guilt.

She recalled his earlier confession about sending the ship into danger. But an admiral did not answer to a detective inspector, and wouldn’t justify or explain to her any commands that he’d given to his ships.

And so she directed her question to the duke, instead. “I’d also like to know where the
Terror
was supposed to have been.”

With a nod, Trahaearn looked to Baxter. “Tell me.”

The admiral poured another drink first, and offered the same to Trahaearn and Mina. When they refused, he sighed and sank deeper into his chair. “I sent her to join the Gold Coast fleet.”

Though his expression didn’t change, Trahaearn’s fingers clenched. “To the Ivory Market? Why?”

Baxter regarded him for a long moment before turning to Mina. “Inspector—Rockingham’s girl, are you?”

Mina’s heart sank. Whatever the admiral’s reasons, she wouldn’t be hearing them in person. He wasn’t looking at her as an officer of the law now, but a lady. “Yes, sir. Are you acquainted with my father?”

“Only by reputation. He writes a formidable letter.”

Baxter stood. Left with little other choice, Mina rose to her feet with him. Trahaearn’s chair creaked, and a moment later, the duke towered beside her.

“She hasn’t eaten since this morning,” he said.

“We’ll remedy that.” The admiral smiled as he escorted her to the door. “And I promise we will not leave you alone for long.”

 

 

Not long after the revolution, when Mina had been still
struggling with the emotions that forever seemed to be rising up and exploding out, Mina’s mother had advised her not to waste her anger on things that she couldn’t change. Mina
tried
, certainly. The problem, however, lay in knowing exactly which things couldn’t be changed. Two hundred years ago, an Englishwoman couldn’t have hoped to become a detective inspector—if such a thing had existed then. Mina had once read that no one escaped the Black Death, and yet when plague had swept through the Horde territories fifty years ago, decimating the Horde military forces occupying England, not a single bugger had succumbed to it. Even death wasn’t certain, though there had to be a better alternative than becoming a zombie.

And so Mina thought that railing against immutable situations could prove more productive than her mother believed. But since she couldn’t imagine a way to change an admiral’s reluctance to speak of naval matters in front of a mere inspector, she took her mother’s advice and let her dismay and frustration go.