The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(45)

“What has happened?” Walsingham asked, cold dread washing over him.

Girard sucked in several deep breaths. “Ye won’t find Miss Thorpe at the inn, sir.”

“Where has she gone?” Questions riddled his mind. For one, if Girard was here, who was guarding Oriana? “I thought she wasn’t expected at the church until one.”

“Gone to make ’er deliveries, she ’as.” Girard tsked. “Wouldn’t allow O’Malley or me to accompany ’er after visitors arrived at the inn. Insisted on goin’ alone with Nicholas, the boy she ’ires to drive ’er wagon.”

Walsingham’s mouth suddenly went dry. “What visitors?” he asked.

“Watty Hammett and another man I didn’t recognize.”

Had William Seaton’s men been successful spreading the word about Zephaniah Job? “And what did you overhear?”

“Not much. They told ’er to read a message in front of them. Were very persistent. And . . .” Girard’s horse shied away. He pulled on the reins and led the horse back around again, drawing up alongside Walsingham. “It was a letter from Carnage.”

“What did it say?” Walsingham asked, eyeing the distant hill with trepidation. Everything was unfolding more quickly than he’d imagined.

“’E’s taken the bait, sir. Believes Miss Thorpe spent ’is gold and that some of it landed in Job’s possession.”

“William Seaton was successful, then.” He turned a thoughtful gaze toward the sea. “What did Miss Thorpe do after reading her brother’s letter?”

“Came back inside quiet-like, served breakfast to the Lovells, got them squared away on the jingle, then ordered me and O’Malley to begin ’aulin’ ale from the cellar to the beach. We loaded the cache into the wagon young Nicholas would be drivin’.” Girard yanked off his hat and swiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Dressed in ’er finest, she is, and makin’ ’er rounds.”

Walsingham adjusted his tricorn, shifted in the saddle, then tipped his hat back on his head. The bay stamped its hooves nervously beneath him, picking up on his rider’s unease. “Where’s O’Malley now?”

“Followin’ Watty’s trail, sir. Figures ’e might learn Carnage’s whereabouts.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “So no one is at the Roost?”

“’Spect not. I rode here as fast as I could to meet ye.” Girard’s horse was getting antsy, and he cut a look of exasperation at Walsingham as he struggled to calm the stallion. “The opportunity was too important to let go, sir. O’Malley insisted the information ’e could glean was worth the risk.”

Walsingham nodded, trying to control the sick feeling in his stomach. “Go back to the inn.”

“Aye, sir.” Girard turned to go but hesitated. “Miss Thorpe was ’appy as a duck before those men came. Ye wouldn’t ’appen to know anythin’ about that, sir, would ye?”

“No.” So she wasn’t angry with him. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the horizon. “I left in the middle of the night.”

Girard flicked the ends of the reins over his thigh. “I know.”

Walsingham ground his teeth in frustration. What had he expected? His men were skilled, aware of their surroundings at all times. Of course they would have noticed. “What about the cellar?”

“Secure for now.” Girard studied the pasture around them, but Walsingham knew that wasn’t what the man really saw. “Miss Thorpe is a good woman, Cap’n. O’Malley and me don’t want anythin’ bad to ’appen to ’er.” He shook his head, then glanced back at Walsingham. “Swear to me ye won’t let Carnage get ’is ’ands on ’er.”

Walsingham grasped the back of his neck as tension mount inside him. “I told Chloe I would. When have I broken a vow to her, eh?”

“I’d feel better if I got yer promise, as well.” Girard clenched his jaw and raised his face to the sun. “Ye don’t know Miss Thorpe like we do, Cap’n. She’s a fighter with a keen sense of right and wrong. I’d give me life for ’er.”

The carpenter’s faith in Oriana didn’t lessen Walsingham’s wariness. “Go back to the inn.” He scoured the hillside, his skin crawling and mind reeling. “Make sure no one gets close to the cellar before Miss Thorpe and I return.”

Girard nodded. “Are ye goin’ after ’er, Cap’n?”

“Aye,” he said. “If I want to meet the Seatons at Talland Church without arousing Miss Thorpe’s suspicion, I’ll have to catch up to her on the trail. Where will I find her?”

Girard lowered his hat, wiped his balding head, and then slapped his hat back on. “She should be close to the Newcombs’ cottage by now. ’Ead a mile north and then cut west. Ye’re bound to catch up with ’er there.” Girard turned his mount around as if he meant to leave. “Take care of ’er, Cap’n. She’s grown on O’Malley and me somethin’ fierce.”

Girard turned his horse eastward, but before he could strike his heels into the black’s flanks, Walsingham stopped him. “Wait!”

The ship’s carpenter glanced over his shoulder. “Cap’n?”