One Wicked Night (40 page)

“What do you mean, blackmailing Manchester is out of the question? The old bastard doesn’t have a single vice?” Drexell Cain demanded, fists clenched as he leaned across the warped surface of the pub’s battered table.

Within the seedy inn’s common room, raucous laughter exploded and drunken singing abounded. The smell of old liquor lingered. His friend, Gregory Bryce, Viscount Monroe, dressed in a fine coat of Devonshire brown, looked as out of place rubbing elbows with the dockside scum as the Prince Regent would.

Greg shook his head. “Not one sin, my friend.”

“Damn!” Drex pounded a fist into the table. “I’d hoped he was following Melville’s lead and using the Admiralty’s money to speculate for his own profit.”

“Why should he? Manchester is nearly as wealthy as the Admiralty’s treasury.”

“The old bugger can’t be perfect,” Drex insisted. “Isn’t he sampling the goods in any bedroom but his own? What about gambling debts?” He raked a tense hand through his hair. “Did you check at White’s and Watier’s?”

“I’ve come as close to the man as I can without moving in like some spinster aunt. He doesn’t indulge in tête-à-têtes or drink. He even runs with the tediously dull crowd at Boodle’s.”

“Sounds like a damned saint.” Drex swore.

“Indeed, our Lord of the Admiralty appears the utmost in devoted family men. He is deeply involved in his granddaughter’s life and attends services at Mayfair Chapel every Sunday.”

“No man is without at least one weakness. He must have a flaw of some sort…” Drex pressed on, his voice urgent.

“I found nothing, nor did the detective we hired,” Greg insisted. “Drex, you must try to free Ryan in other ways or you will get yourself killed. How do you know he is still alive? It’s been four years. The conditions in the Royal Navy—”

“Are deplorable. I know.” Drex grimaced. “But damn it, Ryan is my twin, my only family and my responsibility.”

“He chose a life at sea.”

“He didn’t choose life in the Royal Navy,” Drex bit out. “True, he wouldn’t be at the whim of the Admiralty if he hadn’t run off to seek adventure. I fully intend to make Ryan see that he has obligations, a wife and son who need him. I won’t make excuses for him, but he deserves his freedom.”

Greg sighed. “Very well. What other brilliant suggestions do you have? Blackmail is out of the question.”

Drex swallowed a lump of anger and thumped his fingers against the table. “What about the signet ring I showed you? Were you able to find out who my scoundrel of a father is?”

Greg nodded, then paused. “The Earl of Ashmont.”

“He sounds like a man of consequence, then.” Even if he only used his position to impregnate his upstairs maid and cast her into the squalor of London’s streets. But Ryan’s plight insisted he ignore the fury and resentment pounding in Drex’s veins. “Perhaps he can work with Manchester’s office to—”

“Drex, he is not well. He’s spent the last twenty years holed up in his country house in Devonshire and does not have the political connections needed. But I spoke with him—”

“He knows someone who can help?”

“Damnation, Drex, no. I am telling you that he has been searching for you and Ryan for fifteen years. He knew nothing about you until he received your mother’s diary by post shortly before she died.”

Drex spotted a man with a ragged beard on his mean face staring intently two tables down and lowered his voice. “You told him my name, my identity?”

“No, of course not. But the man wants you in his life.”

Drex suppressed a surge of icy rage. “I’ve had no use for him in twenty-eight years. If he can’t help me with Ryan’s release, I have no use for him now.”

“If that is truly your sentiment, the only other suggestion I have is diplomacy. Perhaps it will prove fruitful if you try again.”

“Like hell.” Drex gripped his mug of ale in white-knuckled fingers. “President Madison spares little concern for Ryan and the other Americans the Royal Navy has impressed. He’s more intent on creating peace, even if it’s false. Besides, the British Admiralty simply thinks they’ve reclaimed their own.”

Greg winced. “Technically, Drex, you and Ryan are their own, being London born. The Admiralty doesn’t care how long you’ve lived in America. To them, you’re English citizens.”

Drex took a sip of flat ale. “Another reason Madison’s administration was reluctant to get involved.”

“Indeed, but what other options do you have?” Greg leaned in, his voice dropping. “You haven’t found Ryan by traipsing the seas in the guise of the Black Dragon, as you’d hoped.”

Drex nodded gravely before adopting a rueful grin. “But more than a few of His Majesty’s ships have met a watery grave. A sunken warship is one that can’t impress more Americans.”

Greg raised a pale brow. “With that outlook, it’s no wonder you have a huge bounty on your head. God, for five thousand pounds, I might be tempted to turn you in myself.” Greg laughed. “Then again, if you were caught and hung, Chantal would murder me for allowing that to happen.”

With a hollow laugh overshadowed by drunken revelry, Drex scanned the crowded room absently, trying to erase the guilt that stung from his failure. He hadn’t returned Ryan to his wife, Chantal, as he’d promised. Closing his eyes, Drex rubbed his aching forehead, mentally scrutinizing other solutions. Surrender was unthinkable, defeat unacceptable. He would find Ryan, alive, and force his brother to learn responsibility. Or he’d die trying.

Shaking the dismal thought away, he glanced across the poorly-lit tavern. A burly hunk of a man slid his beefy arm around a serving wench. The slender girl swatted him and danced away. Watching the two, an outrageous idea jolted Drex.

He tossed it around, examining it from every angle. It was easy, almost flawless—and too good to pass up.

“What is his granddaughter’s name?” he asked suddenly.

Greg swallowed from his cup, prolonging Drex’s suspense. “Lady Christina Delafield.”

“What do you know of her?” Drex prompted impatiently.

Greg grinned. “Manchester may control the Admiralty with an iron fist, but that hoyden has proven unruly since her nursery days. Impulsive through and through. Haughty as only a woman born to extreme privilege can be. A beauty, yes, but her grandparents, who have raised the chit, can scarcely control her. Why do you ask?”

Through the smoky air, Drex leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because if I can’t hold a scandal over his head, I can hold his granddaughter hostage. When he releases my brother, I’ll let the girl go.”

“Have you gone mad?” Greg’s brown eyes grew impossibly wide. “You cannot mean to add abduction to your crimes. You’re wanted for espionage, thievery, illegal trade, and if they catch you, you can tack on treason, too. Perhaps it’s time to quit.”

“Quit? Not yet. This is my last chance to make the Admiralty meet my demands. All I have to do is exploit Manchester’s weakness, his granddaughter.” Sitting back, Drex sipped his ale. “After that, I’ll gladly retire the Black Dragon and leave my criminal life.”

“That is absurd!” Greg insisted, tossing his hands up in emphasis. “You cannot kidnap the girl.”