at the fact of being on this island, and as if it had resigned itself to going about the island toppling trees, breaking off branches, and generally forcing everyone to remain inside their cottages.
Niles nudged him and pointed in the direction of the swerving carriage.
Niles didn’t strike him as a man prone to nudges, but Colin was supremely grateful for the nudge all the same.
People were exiting the carriage. And one of them looked curiously like Sir Seymour.
Well, one of them looked precisely like Sir Seymour.
Blast.
Sir Seymour was looking for him. And unfortunately, this time, he was not alone.
Colin had Sandridge’s papers on his person. He wasn’t going to disappoint his friend. Not after he’d managed to procure them after significant trouble.
Colin turned to the sailor brightly. “Well, this is our ship.”
“You’re going to Guernsey?” The sailor drew his eyebrows together. He eyed Colin and Niles with a scrutiny more commonly reserved for chief inspectors when surveying well-known criminals dressed in fine attire.
“Yes,” Colin said. “We’re going to Guernsey. We love Guernsey.”
“It’s all we speak about,” Niles added, and Colin gave him a grateful nod.
Niles was getting into the spirit of things.
“Hmph. We don’t have any more spaces on the ship.”
“Oh?” Colin prided himself on his baritone, but right now, his voice was entering a higher pitch. He coughed and turned carefully away. Sir Seymour and his ruffians had stopped Colin’s carriage. They were inspecting it with glee, despite the protestations of Colin’s coachman.
Damnation.
This was not going well.
“You have no more tickets?” Colin asked faintly.
Niles cleared his throat. “We are the passengers you have been waiting for.”
The sailor glanced at his passenger list.” “Does that mean you’re Mr. Rupert Andrews?”
Niles gestured toward Colin. “He’s Mr. Rupert Andrews. I’m his manservant.”
The sailor eyed Niles suspiciously. “I don’t have you on the list.”
“He travels in my cabin,” Colin explained.
“Ah. Well, then. Follow me. I thought you wouldn’t show up.”
“How did you know he was waiting for someone else?” Colin whispered to Niles.
Niles gave a smug smile. “That’s why he was on the gangway.”
“Oh. You are wise.”
“I share a similar wisdom in wanting you to have the elegance of a mathematical cravat,” Niles said.
“Too much,” Colin said. “Mustn’t push your good fortune.”
Niles kept a smile on his face though.
Colin allowed himself a gaze at the carriage. Sir Seymour and his men were looking most grumpy. Another glossy carriage approached, and a dark-haired man wearing spectacles, a top hat and tails leaped out. He sprinted toward the ship with flushed cheeks.
“That might be the real Mr. Rupert Andrews,” Niles whispered.
“Then we must hurry,” Colin said, shoving aside the tinge of guilt. Whatever this Mr. Andrews’ eagerness to get on board the ship was, he was unlikely to be fleeing ruffians. No, Mr. Andrews could wait for the next ship. The man had been after all late.
The papers Colin carried would save a man’s family. This might not be the most ethical thing Colin had ever done, but he was not going to surrender a man’s fate for politeness.
Some things in the world were simply more important than being polite, and Colin vowed to dismiss Mr. Andrews and his inconvenient wait from his mind at once.
Colin adopted a quick pace up the gangway.
“You know, we’re not supposed to go to Guernsey,” Niles whispered.
“A minor inconvenience,” Colin said. “You’ll adore Guernsey. I visited Vernon and his wife there once. In fact, I believe they’re there now.”
Niles smiled, and his face appeared placated, perhaps eager to adopt the taste preferences of people in lofty positions.
“Once we’re in Guernsey, we’ll simply travel back, then take the next ship to Cornwall.”
Niles grimaced. “How exciting.”
Colin followed the sailor onto the deck. A few passengers were there, then the sailor opened a small door that led to the hull. They descended some steps, then followed the sailor to a small cabin.
Colin grinned. “This will be a wonderful trip, Niles.”
CHAPTER NINE
EXCITEMENT THRUMMED through Portia. The sailors cast off, shouting about wind direction and speed and similarly mysterious things. The sailors moved quickly in a clearly coordinated pattern, as if they were performing a long-produced play. Some sailors clattered up masts, others grabbed ropes, and others focused on the large sails.
“Perhaps we should go to our cabin,” Jonesie suggested.
“And miss this?” Portia found a bench, and they sat as the ship inched from the dockyard.
“This will take forever,” Jonesie murmured.
“It will get faster once we’re out on the sea,” Portia said.
“I hope so.”
Gusts billowed about them, and Portia placed her gloved hands on