Nigel grinned, happy to see that his ploy would pay off. “At the moment, I’m not sure, but I’ll be in contact with her very soon.”
“Will you?” Struthers scoffed. “Get the hell out of my parlor, and don’t bother me again.”
“I’m not trying to deceive you.”
“Oh, of course not. Can you actually assume you’re the only fool who’s come slinking in, claiming to know where she is? Are you such an idiot that you believe you can swindle me?”
Nigel flushed with rage. How dare Struthers impugn his motives!
“Harriet is twenty,” Nigel said, “and she has a twin named Helen. They look exactly alike. Helen is the sensible sister, and Harriet is the reckless one. They attended Miss Peabody’s School for Girls until they were sixteen, then they—”
“All right, all right,” Struthers grumbled. “She’s your cousin. Now what is it you want from me?”
“Money—what would you suppose?”
“Why am I convinced that you’re about to request a tad more than the reward I’ve offered?”
“Because I am. I have some of my own people searching for her, and it’s more expensive than I imagined.”
“Is it?”
“Once I find her, I’ll gladly turn her over to you, but I’ll need an advance—to fully cover my costs.”
“Why would you be able to locate her when Radley’s men have had no luck?”
“I know where her twin sister is, and you don’t. Helen is the key; Helen is Harriet’s only friend. Helen is the one Harriet will run to when she’s out of options.”
“I see...” Struthers fumed, then queried, “How much?”
“Ten times what you stated on the handbill.”
“A thousand pounds? That’s highway robbery!”
“How badly do you want her? You insist that you’ll do anything to bring about her capture, but will you?”
They engaged in a staring match, and when it seemed as if Struthers wouldn’t budge, Nigel stood.
“I’ll just be going. Thank you for meeting with me.”
He’d made it to the door, when Struthers called, “Not so fast, Mr. Stewart. Not so fast.”
“What are you saying?”
“I most humbly beg your pardon, Westwood, but your brother is missing and presumed to be deceased.”
James frowned.
Aiden Bramwell, the blunt sea captain who’d delivered the devastating news, kept repeating the same sentence over and over, but James felt as if the man was speaking in tongues.
Tristan missing? Presumed dead?
It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be!
Yet James had been acquainted with Bramwell for most of his life. They’d gone to school together as boys. He wasn’t the type to spread rumors.
“What makes you think so?”
“His ship was attacked by pirates, off the coast of Spain.”
“How do you know?”
“We came upon the survivors, and they told us what happened.” Bramwell scowled and cleared his throat. “Supposedly, the pirate’s captain had been following Tristan. Tristan and his crew fought like the dickens, but they were overpowered.”
“Did Tristan die in the battle?”
“No. He was put in a longboat and set adrift. There was a woman on the ship. She was set adrift with him.”
“A woman!”
“I guess she was a stowaway. The pirate ensured that they had no provisions. He wanted them to perish out on the water.”
“But...why?”
Bramwell flushed. “I’m loathe to tell you this, Westwood.”
“Just say it.”
“The fellow claimed to be...ah...your half-brother.”
“My...half-brother?”
It took an eternity for James to figure out to whom Bramwell referred, and he gasped.
“My mother’s son? He said he was my mother’s son?”
“Yes.”
James felt sick. Would the events from his childhood never cease to plague him?
“My mother passed away when he was a young lad. We were never apprised as to what became of him.”
“Well, now you know. He’s embraced a life of crime. Before he sailed off, he bragged that he was Le Terreur Franҫais.”
The French Terror....
His identity had remained a mystery, but he was currently the scourge of the Seven Seas. He only harassed English merchant ships, and the entire British Navy was hunting for him.
That man—that conniving, elusive felon—was the boy James’s mother had birthed? That man was James’s brother? That man had killed Tristan?
He staggered back and fell into a nearby chair.
It was too preposterous, too bizarre, and he was at a loss as to how he should proceed.
He couldn’t envision a world without Tristan in it. From his earliest memories, Tristan had been by his side, the one constant. Tristan was the sole person who comprehended what James had been through. He was James’s only friend.
“Is the story all over London?” James inquired.
“It’s spreading—even as we speak.”
“So everyone will hear about it. The gossip will be horrendous.”
“I’m afraid so. There were too many people about when we docked. I ordered my crew to keep silent, but the tale is too risqué. They’ll never obey me.”
“I understand.”
“I’m very sorry, James.” James accepted the condolence with a nod of his head. “Who was the woman with him? What was her name?”
“No one seems to know.”
James was quiet, unable to wrap his mind around the catastrophe.
Finally, he asked, “Do you think he could be alive? Don’t spare my feelings. I have to know the truth.”
“No, I don’t. He fought valiantly, and he was gravely wounded. I doubt he survived the first night.”
James stood and walked to the window, and he stared out at the garden. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sky blue with fluffy clouds. Miranda was picking roses, a basket of colorful flowers on her arm. It was such a peaceful, serene sight.
How could it be that on one side of the glass, her world was still exactly the same, while on the other, his world had been completely shattered?
How would he ever tell her?
He glanced over at Bramwell.
“You said he was attacked off the coast of Spain?”
“Yes.”
“How many miles out?”
“Not many. Four or five, I suppose.”
A burst of hope flared.
“Could he have drifted to shore? Could he have landed somewhere? An island or a rocky outcropping?”
Bramwell sighed. “Anything is possible, Westwood, but I would be remiss in my duty to you if I let you imagine another ending. You have to admit the reality of the situation.”
James gazed out the window again, watching Miranda. He thought of the conversation they would have to have, of the plans they would have to make.
When there was no body, did one hold a funeral?
He couldn’t picture such a grim event, and a wave of stubbornness washed over him.
What if Tristan had floated up on a deserted Spanish beach? He didn’t speak Spanish. What if he was injured and had no way of sending for help? What if he desperately needed James, but James gave up on him and rescue never came?
James turned, bolstered by a renewed sense of purpose.
“I want to hire you, Aiden.”
“For what job?”
“I’d like you to travel back to the spot where you found Tristan’s ship, and I want you to search for him.”
“James, listen to me. It’s pointless.”
“I’m sure you’re correct, but I want you to do it anyway. For six months. Name your price, and I’ll pay it.”
He was already calculating the card games he’d have to play, the money he’d have to win.
“Give over, James. He’s dead!” Bramwell declared. “I know it’s difficult for you to—”
“What if he’s not? What if he’s alive and he needs me? You have a younger brother, Aiden. What if it was Jonathan? What would you do?”
Bramwell pondered and stewed, then he shrugged. “All right, I’ll try, but it’s a fool’s errand. Don’t forget that I warned you.”
“I won’t forget. When can you sail?”
“I’ll have to take on provisions and round up my crew. I should be prepared in two weeks.”
“Make it three days. You must get back to Spain as fast as you can.”
“Miranda, sit down please.”
“What is it, James?”
She flashed her sweetest smile and walked to the sofa next to where he was standing. He hemmed and hawed, appearing genuinely distraught. What could have happened?
“My goodness,” she said, “you look positively stricken. It’s not bad news, I hope?”
“It’s very bad news.”
“My aunt Bertha? Is she ill? Is she—”
“It’s Tristan.”
“Tristan! What about him?”
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“His ship was attacked by pirates, and he’s presumed to be dead.”
“What do you mean presumed to be?”
“Some of his crew were killed, and he was set adrift in a longboat. He was mortally wounded, so his chances of survival are very slim.”
She was stunned to silence. How was she to assess the awful information?