“And the barrels,” the pale-haired officer said. “Marked as oil, as planned.”
“Now hold your tongue before I cut it out,” Rothborne hissed.
Anna’s stomach tightened.
Rothborne turned to Elias. “You. Fetch one of the footmen.”
“We have no footmen, sir,” Elias reminded him.
Rothborne glared daggers at him.
Elias cleared his throat. “I mean, I shall fetch help at once, sir.”
“Do so,” Rothborne growled.
Elias hurried away.
Anna remained where she was, hoping to be dismissed and trying very hard not to repeat the words she’d heard aloud.
Kingfisher. South Wharf. Friday. After the tide turns...
The pale-haired officer glanced her way. “Why are you still here?”
Thank goodness! She curtsied. “Waiting to know if I am needed, sir.”
“You are not.”
“Yes, sir.” She turned and walked back toward the dining room, careful not to hurry. She made it as far as the turn in thehall before Mrs. Pembroke appeared. So much for hanging onto her composure. Mrs. Pembroke was sure to crack it.
“There you are, Anna. I’ve been searching for you.”
Anna glanced over her shoulder. “Ma’am?”
Mrs. Pembroke shifted past her toward the entry hall. “Try not to look like a rabbit in a fox’s parlor. It encourages pursuit.”
Anna swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Pembroke took her by the elbow and steered her into the small morning room. Once inside, she closed the door.
“Ma’am, there was a delivery from Mr. Sloane,” Anna told her.
“So I heard.”
“A crate,” she offered.
Mrs. Pembroke took on a thoughtful look. “Yes, yes, I know.”
“Lieutenant Rothborne said it was not to go to the kitchen,” Anna added.
Mrs. Pembroke pinched the bridge of her nose. “Which is how I know it contains something more interesting than wine, my dear.”
She stared at her as Mrs. Pembroke crossed to a small writing table near the window. “All right, dear. Out with it. What did you hear?”
The question was so direct, Anna forgot to pretend she’d heard nothing. Before she knew it, she was spouting off the words. “The ship is called Kingfisher. South Wharf. Friday after the tide turns. Barrels marked as oil. There’s a packet in the cratethat names the vessel, or perhaps came with the vessel’s name. I am not certain which.”
To her surprise, Mrs. Pembroke opened a drawer and removed a tiny square of thin parchment. “Excellent.”
Anna blinked. “Excellent, ma’am?”
