“My lady, Captain Nesbitt—”
“I heard you, Venton. That will be all.”
The footman cleared his throat and said, “My lady, Captain Nesbitt is here.”
Drake stepped forward. He scanned the room. It was in as bad repair as the corridor, but shelves still contained carefully packed boxes that might contain toys or clothing or even books. He struggled to imagine how anyone could leave books in a damp room. He owned one book, a well-read copy of Robinson Crusoe, and he kept it carefully wrapped in oilcloth in his quarters.
“So I see,” said the man who had been conversing with Lady Susanna. He had her ebony hair and high cheekbones. He affixed Drake with an icy stare.
Drake met it steadily. He might not be the heir to an earldom, but he had information of import for Lady Susanna.
His supposition was confirmed when she said, “Arthur, allow me to introduce you to Captain Nesbitt. Captain, this is my older brother, Lord Trelawney.”
Even though he hated to be the first one to look away, Drake could not halt his gaze from shifting to Lady Susanna. He realized he had been avoiding looking in her direction. Rightly so, because a single glance at her stole his breath away.
She was dressed in a simple pale blue gown that was covered by a gray apron. Her hair was piled up carelessly on her head. A few strands had escaped to curve along her left cheek, and he had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to brush those tresses back along her face. A streak of dust shadowed her right eye.
“My lord,” he said, offering his hand.
Lord Trelawney seemed astonished, but shook Drake’s hand. “I will leave you to make plans for the children.”
“Arthur, we need to discuss further repairs to the nursery.” Lady Susanna frowned.
“I will study the list in the morning. As for now, if you need anything, Venton will be here to assist you.”
Drake understood Lord Trelawney’s true message to his servant. The footman would make sure that nothing untoward happened. The urge to laugh tickled the back of Drake’s throat. Lady Susanna hardly needed a chaperone. She could freeze a man in place with a single look.
As soon as Lord Trelawney took his leave, Venton moved to stand just inside the doorway. The spot gave him a clear view of the main room and a smaller one beyond it.
“I thought you had taken your leave of Porthlowen,” Lady Susanna said.
“When I did not return?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is still more work to be done on The Kestrel. And, if you remember, I told you that as long as I am in Porthlowen, I would do what I could to help the children. How are they?”
Her shoulders eased from their rigid stance, and an honest smile brightened her face. “Better than I dared to hope. The twins and Bertie have become inseparable. They are fun and funny. My sister is caring for Gil and the baby she’s named Joy, because she is such a happy child.”
“And Toby? Are he and Bertie still quarreling with each other?”
“Toby lives with my brother at the parsonage. We thought giving the boys some time apart would be wise. From what Raymond tells us, Toby has charmed most of the older ladies in the parish, especially Hyacinth and Ivy Winwood, who have made plenty of excuses to call at the parsonage.” She hesitated, kneading her fingers together, then asked, “Have you come because you have news about the search for the children’s families?”
He nodded, and color washed from her face. Was she fearing that he had found the children’s parents or that he had not? True affection had been laced through her words as she spoke of them.
The spot beneath her eye looked even darker, and he frowned as he caught her chin gently and tilted her face toward the light streaming in through the cracked window. He ignored the growled warning from Venton. He drew in a sharp breath of his own when he saw the puffiness beneath the darkness near her eye. It was not dirt. It was a bruise. She had been struck.
“Who darkened your daylight, my lady? Tell me the cur’s name, and I will make him regret being so discourteous to you.”
She drew away and laughed, wincing when her eyes crinkled in amusement. “I appreciate your chivalry, but Miss Mollie gave me this black eye.”
“One of the twins? But how...?”
“We were playing, and she flung her head back. I did not move swiftly enough. You see the result.”
“Maybe I should invite her to join my crew. She could come in handy if French privateers try to board us again.” He glanced over his shoulder at Venton, who was listening with sudden interest. Hadn’t the tale of The Kestrel’s battle been told and retold throughout Porthlowen? Apparently the footman had not heard of it before or wanted more details.
“What have you discovered about the children, Captain?” Lady Susanna asked.
“I sent men along the shore as far north as Trevana and as far south as Land’s End. No one they spoke to had heard that six children were missing. Or at least nobody would admit they had.”
She gave a terse laugh. “Captain, even if the children’s parents refused to step forward and own up to what they have done, others would notice children had gone missing. A single child might be hidden from neighbors until it was placed in the boat, but not six.”
“Then we will continue looking. I can send men across the moors to Penzance and Truro. Even as far as Looe, if necessary.”
She walked toward the shelves, her skirts whirling dust behind her. Running her fingers along the shelves, she wrinkled her nose when she looked at the dust on them. She slapped her hands together to clean them. The sound echoed in the empty room as she faced him.
“Maybe we are looking in the wrong place,” she said.
“It is unlikely they came from beyond Cornwall. Devon or Wales is a great distance for a jolly boat to travel.”
“But not a ship.”
He was puzzled. Usually his mind could keep up with any conversation. It might be that he was paying too much attention to the sway of her skirts as she walked toward him.
“A ship, Captain Nesbitt,” she said. “A ship can easily sail from Devon or Wales or even much farther away, as you know.”
“You need not instruct me about sailing, my lady, but I would appreciate if you could enlighten me about what exactly you are talking about.”
Her cheeks went from pale to flushed in a heartbeat. Her voice became as glacial as her brother’s. “Let me put it simply. French privateers attacked The Kestrel. You halted them, Captain, but maybe another ship was not so fortunate.”
What she was trying to tell him shot like a ball through his brain. Why had he failed to see that possibility himself? He had told her, after all, that they could not discount any theory until they were certain it would not lead to the children’s families.
“I will have my men make inquiries about missing ships as well as missing children,” he said.
“Good.” She started to walk away again, and he knew he had been dismissed.
He did not move. “My lady?”
“Yes?” She kept walking.
“I hope your idea is wrong.”
She stopped but did not turn. “Why?”
“Because if it is correct...”
She spun to look at him with horrified eyes. “Please tell me that you are not about