“All right, enough of this,” she told herself out loud. “Time to get downstairs.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said a voice out of the darkness.
Poppy spun around, trying to see who snuck up behind her. She grabbed the lantern, and lifted it to see a man in the uniform of a magistrate.
“Mr. Armitage?” she asked, puzzled. He seemed far too young to be a magistrate!
“The name is Rowe,” the man clarified. “I’m a deputy to Mr. Armitage.”
Poppy took a cautious breath. It was Mr. Armitage who had concerned Carlos when he went to make his report. He hadn’t even mentioned anyone else.
“Look,” she said. “This isn’t what it seems.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean signaling to the ship out there that everything is clear so they can come in and offload a cargo of very valuable opium?”
“Well…I can explain.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have to explain. I know what’s happening. Do you think I found my way up here to your window by chance?” He stepped closer to her. “Glad I did come though. Drake said you were pretty.”
“Dr. Drake?” Poppy asked, confused all over again. If he was the ringleader they assumed him to be, why would he be talking to the law about tonight’s operation?
“Yes,” Rowe confirmed. “He’s very grateful to you for signaling. We all are—business has been profitable. But the fact is that young ladies make poor conspirators. All that tendency to talk, you know.”
Oh, my God. Poppy thought. He thinks I’m Elowen!
But she also wasn’t about to correct him. Poppy said, in a surprisingly level voice, “Ah. So not all the magistrate’s men are actually working for the magistrate.”
“Good eye,” the deputy said, with a short laugh.
“What exactly are you here for?” Poppy asked bluntly.
Rowe smiled. “I’m here to tie up loose ends…so to speak.” He produced a length of rope and a strip of cloth designed to be a gag. “You’ll be brought to the Seadragon and loaded up with all the other cargo.”
“Cargo?”
“Yes, indeed, my dear. Surely you didn’t think we were going to kill you. What a waste. Beautiful young virgins are worth a lot of money.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Poppy blurted out.
He laughed as he grabbed her and swiftly tied her hands behind her back. “Nice try. Don’t say that among any of the men tonight—it’s the only thing that will prevent them from enjoying you on the ship before they offload you on the Continent. Now walk.”
Using his gun to ensure her good behavior, Rowe marshaled her through the house via the servants’ stairs (he wasn’t such a fool that he’d go into the main living space). On the ground floor, he pushed her down the hallway to the basement…passing the kitchens and servants’ workrooms along the way…where a set of wide eyes happened to see their progress from a cracked-open door.
Poppy made as much of a fuss as she could while being directed at gunpoint, twisting and turning as if to seek escape. Therefore, Rowe didn’t notice that several of the seed pearl beads got torn from her bodice and dropped on the floor along the way, like breadcrumbs to mark the path leading to danger.
* * * *
Carlos had just changed into what Poppy had so casually referred to as his “pirating wear,” which consisted of a black wool jacket over a plain linen shirt, plus loose black trousers that would get a sidelong glance at any social function, but that knew he could run or climb in, if needed. He tucked his gun underneath his jacket and walked quickly downstairs and out the French doors, intending to go down the cliff steps to join Valentin and his crew.
Stealth was the order of the evening, and thus he was rather upset to hear his name shouted behind him.
“Mr. dee lee Guerra! Mr. dee lee Guerra!”
Carlos whirled around, wondering who the hell was chasing after him in the darkness. He was puzzled to see a housemaid running his way. She skidded to a halt in front of him.
“He took your fiancée, sir!” she blurted out.
The words took a moment to register, but then his heart dropped. “You mean Poppy? Who did what to her?”
