one had suspected the young chimney sweep, who claimed he’d been sent by the duke himself.
“So you’re saying that someone broke into your house in Mayfair?” Gideon asked, thick dark brows rising.
“Stole a few loose banknotes, rifled through the study, but nothing of great value was taken.” He frowned—for a robber, his study would have been a veritable treasure trove. “Either it was a terrible thief or they were there to scout the place.”
“You suspect trouble?”
Rhystan took the last swallow of his whisky. “I don’t know yet. Tell the men to keep an eye out here as well. Could be simpleminded thieves.” He let out a breath. Or it could be something more. “Any more news on the ship that was following us?” he asked. He’d begun to doubt that the ship behind them had been anything but another trade ship following the same route.
“Nothing, but another ship put into port a week ago, resupplied, and left a day later,” Gideon said with a frown. “An Indiaman vessel with not a drop of cargo and a handful of tight-lipped crew. Couldn’t pry a word out of them. Red only found out that they’d come from Bombay after greasing some palms and checking with the customs docking logs.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“I put a couple men on a clipper to follow them.”
Rhystan blew out a breath. “Good man.”
“How’s the Duchess of Terror?” Gideon grinned. “Does she miss me? I reckon I could get her to soften up after a few pints. We almost had a moment at the funeral.”
“She had you tossed out on your arse by the largest footmen we had,” Rhystan said dryly. “And banned from ever returning to Huntley House.”
“Best day of my life,” Gideon said, raising his tankard.
Rhystan laughed and lifted his as well.
“And what of your bride-to-be?” Gideon asked slyly.
“She’s well.”
Gideon smirked. “So talkative. Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps a saucy young lass with legs for days and a smile that could fell a man.”
“Sod off, Gideon.”
His quartermaster laughed heartily, though the amusement was only on his end. They drank in blessedly pleasant silence for a while. Rhystan was grateful Gideon hadn’t pressed on the matter with Sarani. He could not spare her a single thought without hearing her soft moans, without recalling the sweet slick of her arousal on his fingers and itching to experience it again. If Gideon guessed how much she affected him, he’d never let him forget it. Rhystan drained his glass and ordered another round.
“Thirsty?” Gideon sent him a knowing look, and Rhystan shot him a crude gesture. The bastard only laughed, sliding over a ledger. “Business, then. One of the ships is due to head back to China on the tea route. The other is bound for Italy. Once the Belonging is ready, I’ll begin preparing to leave for the West Indies in a few weeks.” He eyed Rhystan. “Were you planning to be on any of those?”
The crew were getting restless, and now that two more of his fleet had put into port and unloaded their cargo, they were ready to head out to sea once more. Rhystan was more than ready to head out with them, but something held him back.
Not something…someone.
He studied the logs that Gideon had pushed across the table. They noted the recent custom duties for the three ships that had arrived as well as the names and voyages of his few dozen other ships currently at sea and in other ports. He couldn’t see wrapping up his finances here anytime soon, and there was still the matter of seeing Ravenna settled. A few weeks should be more than enough time.
“Antigua. I need to see Chase.” Courtland Chase had accomplished what many men hadn’t—a life in the colonies that actually helped the locals. “The people who work for him have their own lands and businesses. I want to replicate that elsewhere.”
“You already have,” Gideon said loyally. “Those on your former lands are thriving and buying from the locals directly makes a difference.”
“There’s always room to do more.”
Gideon nodded. “What about the princess?”
“If all goes as planned and there is no confirmed threat to her safety, the lady will be happily ensconced in a Cornish village somewhere, living the life she wants.”
“And you?”
Rhystan frowned, well acquainted with his quartermaster’s snide tone. “And me what?”
“What about you? Will you be living your best life when you leave the only woman you ever cared about behind?”
With a burst of annoyance, Rhystan slammed his tankard down, drawing stares