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“Because, Mr. Compton,” the captain said with a side-eyed glance and a subtle jerk of his chin toward the newcomer, “he is one of the ship’s owners.”

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Mr. Compton dipped his square chin. “I meant no disrespect.”

Trinity was quite certain he had meant exactly that.

The captain merely grunted, and the second officer wended his way to the foredeck.

To better observe the ramshackle vehicle below, Trinity pushed her hood back a few inches. Not wishing to appear a snoop or busybody but unable to contain her curiosity, she lowered her head and peeped through her eyelashes.

One of the owners, hmm?

Wasn’t that interesting?

Then why the hired hack?

Something was not quite right.

A tall man jumped out, a bulging satchel in his gloved hand. Covered from head to toe in a dark cape, he sprinted effortlessly up the gangway. The instant he set foot on deck, the men responded to a silent signal from the captain and scrambled to detach the gangplank. A bell tolled, announcing the ship’s imminent departure.

The mysterious man, his features hidden in the hood of his black cloak, gave Captain Breckett a terse nod. Though Trinity could not see his eyes, she was certain his attention veered to her for an instant just as the wind whipped off her hood.

He visibly stiffened, causing the captain to send her a speculative glance before the ship’s owner disappeared below deck. He had not spoken a word.

Without a doubt, someone had prearranged the owner’s arrival.

Why the clandestine nature and secretiveness?

The captain and the first officer, Jack Alderton, a Scot as short and squat as Mr. Compton was tall and lithe, shouted orders. Men scurried hither and yon, and Trinity tapped her forefinger to her mouth as the Daunting Duchess slipped from her moorage.

Who was the enigmatic passenger, possessing power enough to delay the ship’s sailing?

There were so many possibilities.

Did he even sail under his real name?

Probably not.

Which begged the question, why?

Well, Trinity had weeks to find out.

She always enjoyed a good puzzle.

As she pulled her hood over her head once more, she recalled his sudden rigidness when he’d seen her.

Did that mean he recognized her?

Now there was an interesting notion because, other than a single house party when she had first returned to England and tea on one occasion at Dr. and Joy Morrisette’s, Trinity had not been anywhere other than services at St. George’s with Mrs. Templemore.

Somehow, the latter seemed the least likely of the trio.

That left the tea and house party.

No, that left the house party. An intimate affair, the tea had consisted of a few close friends. This furtive fellow had not been amongst them.

Though tempted to follow the mysterious stranger below, Trinity resisted. He was not going anywhere, and she would not deprive herself of this last glimpse of England. Besides, what would she do?

Linger outside his cabin like a demented ninny?

A grin teased the corners of her mouth as she rested her elbows on the ship’s rail.

What might’ve proved a rather unexceptional voyage had become decidedly more intriguing.