Duncan ignored Alexander’s attempt at levity, a warning of what the earl meant to share was extremely important, and, so, Alexander sobered quickly.
“You best sit down,” Duncan advised without looking up from the paper his lordship held in his hands to meet Alexander’s worried expression—a fact which sent a shiver of dread down Alexander’s spine.
“That bad?” Alexander asked as he claimed a seat before Duncan’s desk. “Has the situation with Honfleur escalated? Has something occurred with Miss Moreau? I have not viewed even a glimpse of her since that night at the inn. Has Honfleur sent her away?”
Duncan eyed him with a peculiar look. “You have developed a strong interest in the lass,” he said sagely. “It is not wise to forget she is part of Honfleur’s family.”
Alexander shrugged his response. He knew his obsession with Miss Moreau was not appropriate, but he could not seem to keep the woman from his mind. “I believe she fears Honfleur,” he confessed.
“I would think anyone who does not fear Honfleur would be making a mistake,” Duncan stated plainly.
“I comprehend your warning,” Alexander responded in seriousness. “I assume you have additional information regarding the marquis, and you mean to remind me of our obligation to this investigation.”
“Aye, but not as you assume,” Duncan said gravely.
“Then perhaps we should skip the various warnings and come to the point,” Alexander suggested.
Duncan cleared his throat before retrieving another letter from his desk drawer. “I have heard from our agents in France, and it is as we expected: Honfleur is not a marquis.”
“I knew such was true,” Alexander declared with glee. “What else did we learn?”
“Honfleur is not French at all. He is British.”
“Such explains the combination of French and English he often uses,” Alexander observed. “I should have realized his use of French was odd, especially as Miss Moreau’s English has tones of the Lake District in it. Now that I think about it, when I asked the lady if Honfleur was English, all she said was her parents were English, and Honfleur was her mother’s half-brother, who came for her when she was in Honduras.”
“We have information saying Honfleur captained a ship in the West Indies and along the coast of America, making a living essentially as a privateer and running brandy and rum and other goods where there was a market.”
Alexander sat back in his chair. “A pirate? I am surprised John Yates associates with Honfleur. Yates does not seek notoriety. He learned well at William Booth’s hands.”
“Perhaps Yates is unaware of Honfleur’s history. Then again, perhaps a marquis could pass larger amounts on the bank notes than a five-pound note.”
“Do we know when Honfleur was in the West Indies?” Alexander questioned. “We require specifics.”
“We know Miss Moreau was only five when Honfleur claimed her. The lass can be somewhere around twenty,” Duncan suggested.
“How can you be so confident?” Alexander demanded.
Duncan cleared his throat again. “I have a tale to relate to you, boy, and it is not a pretty one.”
“You are rarely so somber, Duncan. How bad can the tale be?” Even as he spoke, a shiver of anticipation claimed Alexander’s spine.
“Bad enough,” the Scot confirmed.
“Then be about it,” Alexander ordered. “You have my undivided attention.”
“Although the tale begins before the date when Honfleur claimed Miss Moreau, I will begin there.” Duncan shuffled through some papers before discovering the one he sought. Alexander noted Lord Duncan’s hand trembled as he lifted the letter higher to read aloud what it held. “In 1785, first Moreau arrived at a property held by a ‘Shoreman’ in one of the British logging concessions.”
“Then it is as we anticipated,” Alexander declared. “Honfleur holds connections to crime in the Caribbean.”
Duncan spoke in exacting tones. “I am more of the persuasion Honfleur’s contacts are French and not part of groups exploiting the area between England and America.”
“Then, beyond selling goods to those along the Bay of Honduras, how did Honfleur come to the British notice?”
Alexander’s long-time mentor shook off the question. “Such is not the point of this conversation. I require you to listen carefully, boy.”
“Your tone indicates something life-changing. I heard you use that same tone the day you came for me and my father in the slews. You used it again when it was determined I was to be sent off to school. Once more, when my father finally passed, but not since then.”
“For you, it will be life-changing, and I wish I had the power to protect you,” Duncan stated plainly.
