Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (37 page)

Her affair with Hal had cost her a great deal,
indeed.

She was almost to the harbor master’s office, when
she heard someone call her name.   She turned to find Captain Clinch hailing
her.

“Miss Sutton,” he said, bowing to her.  “I was
hoping to see you today.  You have not yet given me the names of your
passengers.  I would like to add them to the manifest straightaway.”

She felt shamed again by her failure. 
“Unfortunately, Captain, there will be no passengers on this journey.  Perhaps
never again.”

“You look unwell, Miss Sutton,” said Captain Clinch,
as he extended a hand as if to steady her.  “I am sorry to hear about this
unexpected turn of events.  Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“Actually, no, sir.  I came to look over the harbor master’s
records.”

“Whyever for?  I shouldn’t think you’d like to
handle those dusty old tomes.”

Mel smiled.  “I was just following up a lead
regarding the missing women.  There was a witness who claimed to know the
identity of the man who was the head of the slavery ring.  He said there was a
page in the records which would point to who the villain was.”

“And you believed him?”

“I did not personally meet with him.”  Thanks to the
high-handed behavior of Hal.  “But he was killed shortly after naming the date
of the journal entry.  While it appears that Bow Street now has a suspect, I am
curious to see the journal entry myself.”

“I am certainly glad to hear Bow Street is closing
in on the man.  Who is he?”

“It appears to be a peer of the realm who was having
financial difficulties.  They are building a case against him as we speak.”

“Excellent!” said Captain Clinch.  “Perhaps you and
I can share a celebratory drink back on my ship.”

“You are too kind,” said Mel, knowing his ship would
only be a reminder of her failure.  “But I shall be going back to my uncle’s
home, right after I check the records.”

“Surely, that won’t be necessary now that they’re
about to make an arrest.”

“Probably not,” Mel conceded.  “But perhaps it can
provide evidence against him.  I would hate for the man to go free.”

“As would I,” said Captain Clinch.  “But there is no
reason for you to go about finding it.  The docks are truly no place for an
unescorted lady.  I will search the records, then bring them to you.  What was
the date you’re looking for?”

Mel consulted her notes.  “April the second.  But,
if it is just the same with you, I should like to see the entries for myself. 
I feel responsible for the disappearances.  The women were likely taken on
their way to the ship.  If not for me, they wouldn’t have been here.”

“You don’t know that,” said Captain Clinch.

“Yet even the possibility haunts me.”

Melanie turned to go into the office, but Captain
Clinch offered his arm.  “I know a way in through the back.  We shall arrive in
the records room more quickly, without having to wait at the front desk.”

As Mel glanced in the window, she could see more
than a dozen sailors waiting for the one available clerk.  She wouldn’t mind
cutting through the line, especially if she had Captain Clinch to lead her. 

He offered her his arm, then escorted her through
the mass of humanity on the docks to an alley which ran behind the building. 
It was much darker than on the docks and she could barely find her way to the
door.  She took a few steps with him at her back, then felt a sharp blow to the
head. 

The world turned to darkness.

*                    *                    *

Hal arrived at Mitchell House to find it in an
uproar.  Mel’s cousin Mary was speaking with Anne.

“Lord Henry, thank God you’ve come,” said Mary.  “I
believe Mel to be in danger.  She went to the docks this afternoon and has not
returned.  When Flora gave me this address, I came here hoping to find her.”

“The docks!” said Hal.  “That is the very last place
she should be.  You there,” Hal motioned to a footman.  “I have an urgent
message that must be delivered to Bow Street, the Home Office and Lynwood
House.”

“Do you believe Melanie is in danger?” asked Anne.

“Unfortunately, I do,” said Hal, as he scribbled out
the messages, then bade the footman to deliver them with all due speed.  “I’ve
learned the ship is to sail tomorrow.  Knowing Melanie, she’ll get too close.” 
He wouldn’t allow himself to think of what could happen then.  “Lady Mary, go
back home, then send word if Mel arrives.”  At her mutinous look, he
continued.  “The earl will be of invaluable assistance – but only if he knows
what is happening.  Now go!” 

Lady Mary rushed from the house to her waiting
carriage. 

“Mrs. Cartwright, send word if you hear of
anything.  But now I must go to the docks.”

Anne swallowed, then looked him in the eyes.  “I am
coming with you.”

“You cannot.”

“Yes, I can.  And I will.  If you leave me here, I
shall only follow.  I used to work near the docks.  I can find my way better
than you and we’re only wasting time arguing.” 

Before Hal could object again, Anne had grabbed her
cloak and pulled a pistol from a drawer.  There was a momentary pause as she reached
the door, then she stepped outside with purpose and strode to the Kellington
carriage. 

“Damnable strong-willed females,” said Hal as he
hurried after her. 

*                    *                    *

As Melanie slowly regained consciousness, she became
aware of two things.  One was a terrible headache, no doubt from being hit by
that miserable Captain Clinch.  And she was incredibly upset with herself for
not realizing he was the man behind the disappearances.  No doubt the manifest
would show he was in port on April the second when the women had gone missing.  He
also knew many of the women who’d disappeared courtesy of their arrangement. 
Who knew how many he’d kidnapped during the past year?  If she ever got her
hands on him again, she’d kill him.

The second thing she realized was that she was on a
ship and probably not the Cassandra.  Her head was also being cradled on a
lap.  A woman’s lap, if she wasn’t mistaken.  She hadn’t yet opened her eyes
because she’d wanted to get her bearings in other ways, first.  But as she
slowly opened them, she stared at the bright red locks of Miss LaRue.

Melanie tried to sit up, but Miss LaRue firmly but
gently held her in place.  “Shhh, Miss.  You’re like as not to cast up your
accounts if you sit up too fast.”

“Where…”  Melanie’s voice was barely a rasp. 
“Water?”

Miss LaRue reached for a pitcher and poured just
enough water in the glass to moisten Mel’s lips and mouth.  She helped Mel sit
up to sip it.

“Are we still in the harbor?” asked Mel.

“For the time being, at least,” said Miss LaRue, as
she looked around the small cabin they were in.  “Be glad we’re not down below
with the others.”

“Others?” asked Mel.

“There’s like to be two dozen or more down in the
hold.  And that’s just how many I saw.  Could be any number of them in other
parts of the ship.  They only dragged me up here to take care of you.  I’m glad
they done it.  I didn’t like being down in the dark.  And, of course, I’m glad
I’m here to take care of you, Miss.  Even if we are headed to the pirates.”

“Pirates!” said Mel.  That certainly did nothing to
calm her stomach.

“I’m afraid so,” said Miss LaRue.  “From what I
could get out of the crew, we’re being taken all the way to Africa to be sold
to pirates.”

“Have you been on this ship the whole time?”

“Lord no,” said Miss LaRue.  “They kept me in a
warehouse for the last few months.  Seems there was trouble with the ship I was
supposed to be sent out on, so they had to wait for the Amber Moon to be in
port again.”

“And did they…did they force you to work for them?”
asked Mel.

“They didn’t force me to have sex with them, if
that’s what you’re askin’, although I did have to cook and clean with the others. 
Made me positively miss Madame Thurmond’s.  And I hate that old bitch.  Pardon
my language.”

“I’m so sorry to have placed you in danger, Miss
LaRue.  Please forgive me.”  It had been Melanie’s worst nightmare that she’d
harmed women she meant to protect.

At this the fiery redhead blushed a shade that
almost matched her hair.  “Well, see, Miss Sutton, you didn’t have nothing to
do with it.  I thought about going to America, truly I did.  But I never
fancied a sea voyage and I took a look at the coin you gave me and I thought
maybe I could start a new life here in England without having to go to America
and get scalped.”  Here she patted her curls.  “I can only imagine how much
them Indians would like my red hair.  As I was turning to leave the docks, I
run into this handsome fellow and he was a sweet talker.  A real charmer.  I
was dumb enough to believe what he was selling.  I thought I was going with him
to find a nice place to, uh, talk.  But instead he took me to some warehouse
where I’ve been all this time until they brung me here this morning.  I shoulda
took my chances with the Indians.”

“And is Captain Clinch the leader of this
organization?” asked Mel.

“That’s what I been told.  Sailors are a lot like
whores.  They tend to talk when they’re not working.”

Melanie carefully got to her feet, then swayed once
again, barely grabbing on to a table to keep from falling. 

Miss LaRue rushed to her side.  “Cor, Miss Sutton,
be careful.  It wouldn’t do to crack your head open.  I can imagine only the
terrible pirates would want you then.”

“Please, call me Melanie.  There doesn’t seem to be
much point in standing on ceremony now, does there?”  Mel carefully made her
way to the porthole.  It was only about ten inches in diameter, much too small
to fit through.

“And you can call me Susan,” said Miss LaRue.

“I thought your name was Arabella,” said Melanie, as
she tried to open the porthole.  But between the warped wood and her weakened
state she couldn’t make it budge.

“That was only my working name.  If blokes wanted to
poke a Susan, they could go home and do that for free.”

“I see.  Well, Susan, I have news for you.  I have no
intention of letting either of us – any of us – be sold to pirates.  And for
the record, I don’t believe there are any pirates who aren’t terrible.”

“There must be some pirates who aren’t that bad,”
said Susan.  “Just like the blokes on this ship.  Some would be downright nice
if they wasn’t kidnapping us.”

“Do you think some of them might help us?”

“I don’t know,” said Susan dubiously.  “There’s only
so much a man is like to risk, even in exchange for getting off.  There’s some
awfully mean guards on this ship.  They look the type who’d just as soon slit
your throat as give you the time of day.”

Mel looked out the porthole.  Even if she could fit
through the window, it was a long drop to the water below and she had no idea
how deep it was.  If only there was some way to draw attention to them.

She looked around the cabin again.  It was some sort
of private quarters, with a small berth, a table and two benches nailed to the
floor.  There were virtually no personal effects, other than a few shirts and
rags.  She began searching through the various items.

“What are ye looking for, Miss…uh, Melanie?”

“A mirror.”

“You look just fine.  Quite nice, considering you
spent so long passed out.”

“I don’t need it for me.  I want to use it as a
signal.”

Susan thought about that for a moment, then reached
beneath her skirts and pulled a silver flask out of her garter.  “Will this
do?”

“Where did you get that?” asked Mel as she grabbed a
rag to shine it.

“One of the sailors gave it to me in exchange for,
well you can probably guess.”  As Mel reached for the flask, Susan uncorked it
and took a rather large swig.  She offered it to Mel, then pulled it back. 
“Pardon me, I forgot you don’t drink.”

She was about to re-cork it when Mel took it from
her and gingerly brought it to her lips.  She then took a large sip and began
to cough.  She quickly replaced the cork and began polishing it with the rag.

“You might want to take a smaller sip next time,”
said Susan, suppressing a smile.  “It can take getting used to.  Is there
something I can do?”

“You might want to check to see if there’s anything
that can be used as a weapon.  I don’t know how long they’ll leave us here, but
I want to be prepared when they come back.”  She looked at the silver flask,
which now fairly gleamed.  She had no idea whether she could actually make the
sun reflect off the metal in the right direction.  And even if she did, there
was no guarantee anyone would think it odd enough to investigate.  But she had
to try. 

She went to the window and tried to pull the porthole
open.  When she couldn’t, she wrapped the old rags around her hand and slammed
the flask through the porthole, breaking the glass.