Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit (13 page)

And came to a halt at the top.

There was little choice. Just over the rise was a fence and barring their way a very solid gate bearing a sign prohibiting admittance. Apparently only those with permission from the Godolphin management were allowed to proceed further.

The fence ringed quite a large area nestled in the dip between two slight hills, and went from the edge of the cliffs on one side to the edge of the same cliffs on the other.

“Well, I’ll give them points for most creative use of a chine.” Pierce casually lifted an arm and rested it on Minnie’s shoulders, as if enjoying the view.

“A chine. Yes, there’s several of those hereabouts, I hear. And it’s…what?”

“It’s where a river cut through the chalk cliffs, probably thousands of years ago, forming a little valley. As the river itself dies down to a trickle, it leaves a small inlet and access to the interior via the valley floor. Since it’s chalk, there are often caves associated with them. Much prized by smugglers a century ago.”

“Ahh.” Minnie nodded.

“I think the word chine is pretty specific to this area…they’re probably called something else in other places.” He sounded thoughtful as he adjusted her parasol to make sure she was comfortable. “Do you think you could reach the binoculars?”

She slid a hand between them and grasped the metal. “Got them.”

“All right.” He took the shining brass instrument from her grasp. “I’m going to turn you so that it looks like we’re checking out the coastline.” He fiddled with a couple of knobs. “What we’ll actually be looking at, of course, is Godolphin.”

“I…er…huh?” Minnie knew her mouth was open as she struggled to sort out what he’d just said. “We’ll be looking one way and seeing another?”

“Precisely.” He held the binoculars up to Minnie’s eyes.

She blinked and steadied his hand, covering it with her own.

And sucked in a shocked breath.

Where she should have seen the blue ocean, she saw green grass and buildings. Where there should have been a sun-hazed horizon, there were men working, hammering, climbing ladders and engaging in various activities designed to assist in the creation of walls, rooms, roofs and windows.

“Oh my goodness.” She blinked, drew back and then looked again. “How the
devil
are you doing this?”

“Scientists have a bad habit or two.” He accepted the device as Minnie passed it to him and rubbed her eyes. “One of them is tinkering with perfectly ordinary things and making them do something a bit on the extraordinary side.”

He tweaked the settings and held it to his face, giving Minnie chance to notice a few extra knobs and levers she hadn’t seen or looked for. They were quite small, but clearly not part of the original unit.

“Just a little rearrangement of the lenses, a basic knowledge of optics and…there you have it.”

“Have what?”

“A device that can look around corners.” He shrugged. “Well, almost.”

“Ingenious.” Minnie gathered her wits. “I suppose I should be happy that you haven’t
tinkered
with the plumbing in the bathroom.”

“I did try.” He sounded amused as he continued to focus the binoculars.

“What happened?”

“Something unpleasant. But quite bracing.”

“Ah.” Minnie wisely decided not to pursue it. She idly twirled her parasol and snuggled closer. “Don’t forget we’re sightseers. A couple enjoying the day.”

He moved the binoculars away a little. “How can I forget?” His green gaze was bright in the sunshine as it lowered to her lips. “Your fragrance is tantalizing. It haunts me.”

“It must be your soap.” She blinked.

“Oh no. I know the scent of soap. This is the scent of woman. Warm and sensual woman.”

Her eyelids lowered as his voice softened into a caress, and her body flooded with heat at his words. A heat that had nothing to do with the sunlight and everything to do with Pierce.

It was quite astonishing, and absolutely wonderful.

His next words jerked her out of her languorous moment. “Now that’s strange. Very strange indeed.”

Chapter Eight

Dusk pulled his hat low over his face as he kept the boat at a gentle speed, handling the wheel with a confidence born of many hours on the water and a comfortable familiarity with Pierce’s little steam-propelled launch.

Glancing behind him, he watched Felicia turn her face toward the breeze and sniff in the fresh tang of sun-warmed ocean air. She had elected to settle in the stern, amidst an assortment of cheerfully colored pillows, close enough to the gunwale to let her hand dangle just above the water and occasionally feel the splash of an errant wave.

Her white hat, her soft pastel gown—she looked like a white violet nestled amongst a bouquet of tropical blooms. He surprised himself with the whimsical notion and turned abruptly back to the wheel. “Are you all right?” He tossed the question over his shoulder.

“I’m just…divine.” She was laughing. “I’d forgotten how lovely it all feels. The scent of the water, the sound of the boat, the way the waves lap around us and cradle us—it’s wonderful, Dusk. Thank you for bringing me.”

And just like that, he melted once more. Her charm and joy in the simple things, her courage in facing those things that would never be simple—he was entranced by this woman and rapidly realizing how deep that enchantment might go.

“Felicia, about last night…” He cleared his throat.

“Mmm?” She tilted her parasol and shifted a little into a comfortable position.

“I’m not sure if I should be apologizing or proposing.”

“Good Lord.” Felicia sat up in a hurry. “Neither, I hope.” She tipped her head in his direction. “You kissed me, Dusk. You didn’t hurt me, or compromise me. I kissed you back. I hope I didn’t hurt you. It was, as far as I’m concerned, very pleasant.” She touched her chin. “There is that beard-burn issue, of course.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I’ll make sure I shave next time.” He caught himself up.

“Aha.” She was on that without a pause. “Next time. You enjoyed it too.”

“Well of course I did.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“Um…” He thought about it. “I suppose I was wondering if I’d scared you at all. Or given you a distaste for me after I took off my mask.”

There, it was out. The worry that had stayed with Dusk all night long after he’d returned alone to his modest quarters. Felicia had responded to his caresses with enthusiasm. But she hadn’t seemed to want to go further.

At least he hadn’t thought she did. Or maybe he was wrong and couldn’t read her signals. Or something. And that kind of futile mental debate had kept him awake.

Felicia was sighing, loudly, and shaking her head. “Men.” She furled her parasol. “Idiots, ninety percent of the time. Thankfully the other ten percent is delightful.” She turned her face to Dusk. “And I enjoyed that ten percent last night. Very much indeed. The mask was irrelevant. Your mouth wasn’t.”

Dusk found himself overwhelmed by her bluntness and would have gone to her and taken her in his arms if he hadn’t been steering a damn boat on the ocean at that moment. Unwilling to land them both on the rocks edging the shore, he simply nodded.

Then realizing she might have been unable to see his movement clearly, he spoke. “Felicia, you are the best and brightest thing to come into my life in years. When I kissed you…” He paused. Conveying emotions wasn’t his strong suit, since he’d always felt actions spoke louder than words.

But this was Felicia. She couldn’t see his actions unless he was right on top of her.
Oh God. Please. Soon.
He had to use more words than he was comfortable with if he was going to make this work. And he wanted to make this work.

“Shh.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Shh. I hear something. In the distance.”

It was a measure of his growing feelings for her that Dusk refrained from pointing out any of the twenty natural things she might be hearing. Instead, he throttled back on the steam engine, reduced the sound to a purr and their speed to slightly faster than an athletic duck chasing a bug.

“There.” She lifted a hand. “Do you hear it?”

“No…wait…” He strained his ears, trying to block out all the routine sounds. And yes, finally he heard it. The distant rhythmic thumping of an engine. Not their own.

He looked around. They were in a small natural bay, heading south-west toward the tip. He’d intended to take them slowly along the coastline, perhaps as far as the Needles if the day remained fine.

Although Felicia wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the sight of the massive chalk walls thrusting their way up in jagged majesty off the very western tip of the Isle of Wight. She would probably be able to see their shape, though, simply by virtue of their brilliant whiteness against the blue sky.

Now, with the sound of a ship—and a large one too, if he was any judge—perhaps it would be better for them to take a peek around the headland and then retrace their steps. Or wake. Or however one termed reversing course when at sea.

“It’s a ship. The engines have just started up. They’re…cold. Irregular at the moment.”

Dusk glanced at Felicia. She’d put on her glasses, of course, hiding those eyes he’d seen last night. But every inch of her was focused, intense, listening with her enhanced sense to the sound that drifted across the calm waters.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He nodded once. “We’ll swing out in a circle, make it look as if we’ve been out all morning and we’re turning for home. As we go beyond the headland I’ll see what I can make out.”

Her lips tightened into a straight line. “Very well. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Dusk eased a little more speed from the boat and turned them toward the horizon. “Say that again and I shall stop this boat, anchor it, come over there and put you over my knee.”

Felicia paused, the shade of the parasol now covering her face. Yet Dusk could just make out her lips as they curved upward. “Really?”

“Don’t tempt me, woman,” he growled, the hungry desire within him lurking far too close to the surface for him to deal with a double entendre.

She simply chuckled, a sexy sound low in her throat.

Dusk managed to bite back a groan and turned his face to the wind, which had picked up over the last hour. Fortunately, there was scarcely any chop so his change in direction didn’t make much difference to the movement of the boat. The last thing he wanted was a seasick woman on his hands.

He had other plans for her.

The boat nosed delicately past the tip of the headland and immediately bucked as the protection of the cliffs was withdrawn. Dusk glanced quickly at Felicia, but other than a slightly tighter grasp on her parasol, she hadn’t moved.

He turned his attention to the ocean.

“Do you see it?” Her voice was quiet, barely distinguishable over the sound of their engine.

“Yes. A freighter I think. High out of the water. Must’ve been carrying quite a cargo when she came in.”

“How big?”

Dusk shrugged absently. “No idea. Single funnel but a lot of deck rigging. Quite a few thousand tons. Wait, she’s got a name on her stern.” He took the shining telescope from its mounting by the wheel and, feeling rather self-conscious, put it to his eye. It clanged against his mask. He cursed and tried the other eye, feeling even more like an idiot.

“Nice going, Nelson.” Felicia giggled.

“How did…?” Dusk gaped at her. “Oh never mind. You hear things far too clearly.”

“So can you make out the name?”

“Yes. It’s the Ahira. Out of Tripoli.”

“Hmm.” Felicia shifted her position on the cushions and rubbed one hand over the other arm.

“Are you getting chilled?” Dusk noticed her movement.

“Not by the temperature, dear man. It’s just that this is the culmination of conversations. From ideas around a table, it’s suddenly become real, hasn’t it?”

Dusk thought of the latest body, a cold young woman who would never live to bear a child or see another sunrise. “It always was.”

Late afternoon saw all four back at the Brass Pluggit. They alternated between being tired, elated, confused and determined.

Dusk made a light repast for them, since they were hungry, with the understanding he damn well wasn’t about to cook a large meal later on since he’d been every bit as involved as everyone else. Nobody argued.

Pierce let them unwind a little before attempting to settle things down and begin pooling information. He and Minnie had a lot to share and he had a feeling, from the expression Dusk was allowing the world to see, that he and Felicia had made a few discoveries of their own.

He opened a bottle of white wine, feeling the occasion called for it, and passed around glasses.

“Now. A toast.” He stood and looked at his three cohorts. “To a day well spent. To good friends—and to justice for those unable to claim it for themselves.”

The others stood. “To justice.” They raised their glasses and joined the toast.

Finally, it was time. Pierce pulled out pencil and paper, glancing around as he cleared a space on the table to work.

“Right. I’m going to see if we can put all our observations from today together and make a nice pretty picture for ourselves.”

“Before you start…” Minnie interrupted. “Have you checked the communications console? If we have any new information, it might be useful to have that in hand now, rather than later…”

Pierce grinned. “As it so happens, I have checked.”

Minnie wrinkled her nose at him. “I should have known.”

“Yes you should, but I’ll forgive you.” Before Minnie could snap back the tart reply he knew was quivering on the tip of her tongue, he held up a few slips of paper. “Unfortunately, there was little of any relevance.” He riffled through them. “Minnie, your reporter friend says hello and asks that you not forget to send him any interesting tips you come across down here.”

“Right. I’ll be certain to do that.” She lifted an eyebrow dryly.

“Dusk, a Mr. B.D., a merchant from Whitehall, has let you know that the dark navy fabric is on order and should arrive soon.”

Dusk nodded. “Good. I need to see if we can find a seamstress to finish the drapery in the lower foyer.”

Pierce rolled his eyes and pulled the last slip of paper from the pile. “And Felicia…somebody named Three Eyed Jack says—and I’m quoting here—three fillies scratched from Ascot.” He looked across the table. “Are you using my system for some betting?”

She frowned. “No. That’s code.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He sighed, ignoring a playful punch in the shoulder from Minnie.

“What does it mean, Felicia? Anything relevant?” Finding Pierce an unresponsive punching bag, Minnie turned to her friend with the question.

“Unfortunately yes. Jack is a contact of a contact. A man who knows a friend of mine. Jack’s got his finger on a lot of different…um…areas of London, shall we say. He’s let my friend know that three more women have been sent south. From a London brothel.”

“Dammit.” Dusk clenched his hands into fists on the table. “We have to stop this.”

Pierce took a breath. “Yes, I agree. It’s no longer an exercise in theoretical suppositions. If those three girls are coming here, to the Isle of Wight, we know where they’re going to end up.”

“On the Ahira. Out of Tripoli.”

Pierce and Minnie turned to Dusk as he spoke. “That’s the ship?”

“Yes.” Felicia nodded. “We found her anchored off the coast.”

“Right where we expected,” added Dusk. “She’s light. Offloaded her cargo before, I’m guessing. The only activity above decks was some work on her rigging. There are cranes and lifting arms, just the sort of thing you’d expect to find on a cargo ship.”

“And Pierce?” Felicia leaned forward. “Her engines were warming up.”

Damn damn damn
.

Minnie watched the expressions on his face, knowing him well enough now to understand the look of anger beneath his usually calm features. They all knew what Felicia’s statement meant. They had a limited amount of time to do whatever it was they could do to stop another group of women vanishing from England’s shores—probably forever.

She laid her hand sympathetically on top of his as it rested on the table. “We had a successful trip too. On some levels.”

She glanced round the table, seeing Dusk and Felicia’s gazes land on her. “We drove to the crest of the hill overlooking the Godolphin site. For all intents and purposes, it looks exactly like what it’s supposed to be. A new aerodrome.”

Pierce nodded. “It’s well situated, since the natural landscape will offer shelter to moored airships. There’s little in the way of trees or forests and the chine is easily accessible from the ocean. So other than keeping ahead of the weather—something every aerodrome has to worry about—it’s a valid development.”

“The building is going on, pretty much as you’d expect.” Minnie continued their story. “There are some very large hangars still in the skeletal stage, but there are other buildings almost finished.”

“One thing we didn’t see? Tracks. Cart tracks. They must have brought their supplies in somehow. But they didn’t bring them overland, that’s for sure. Not with the state of the road we used. The gate blocking the way hadn’t been opened in a while.”