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“I would feel better about abandoning my duties if I had been able to finish the assignment I started,” Roman said.
“Ah, Belgrano. He is nothing. He’s always been nothing.”
“The problem is nothing sometimes turns into something. I am more concerned than ever he was not where we thought he was. Probably had never gone to Argentina. That’s bad intelligence or a planned narrative.” And if Belgrano wasn’t in Argentina, that meant he was likely in Spain. What were his plans if that was the case? Was he planning something reprehensible with regard to the current Spanish crown? Or something closer to Roman’s heart? Was Shelene in some danger? Had she been in danger while he was gone? He was thankful Dewey and Rousseau had committed to watching over her while he was gone.
“You spent thirty days looking for him and over a year looking for me and Oliver. Maybe you didn’t ask enough questions.”
“Perhaps. But my best sources had no knowledge about him, and they were the most experienced informants in the region. He never left the continent. For some nefarious reason.”
“Unless he was trying to be someone other than the notorious Belgrano. Perhaps he hid his identity until his plans, whatever they were, came to fruition. Whatever he did, he was just trying to save his cowardly skin.”
“You know him as your brother-in-law. I know him as a seditious brigand.”
Oliver approached, braced by Joaquin on one side and another sailor on his left. Roman’s heart ached. His brother had aged twenty years, even acquiring some grey at the side of his temples. He looked older than Adam, their oldest brother. His broken bones had healed as well as they could have given the horrific circumstances and lack of medical attention. It was one attack after another. Roman’s normally logical, unemotional self teared up seeing his younger brother so shattered.
“Where are we?” Oliver asked.
“Cadiz. It will be a few more hours yet before we disembark. I thought you would enjoy some sunshine.”
“Cadiz? Is that where we are supposed to be? Not England?”
“No. We’ll be here for a few months before we go on to England.” Of course, Roman had told Oliver this information several times over the last few days. Some days were worse than others. Laudanum helped his pain somewhat, though Roman wasn’t so sure the drug wasn’t contributing to some of his memory problems.
The nurse Roman had hired was nearby with a blanket, a book and a small bag of odd trappings, which had no medicinal use that Roman saw. Maybe he should be thankful for that.
“Have I been here before?” Oliver asked.
“Many times.”
“Oh.” Oliver limped toward the ship’s railing and glanced around as Roman had earlier, except his gaze was blank, recognition impossible.
“Commodore Hightower lives in Spain. You spent a lot of time with him here.”
Hightower patted Oliver’s shoulder. “We had many an adventure together, including here in Spain,” he said.
“Yes. I remember that now. Some of it. And Commodore Hightower is, um, he’s the father of…”
“Shelene.”
“Yes, your wife. I remember she was very beautiful. How long have you been married?”
“Well over a year.” Almost a year and a half, Roman calculated.
“Is there a place I can sit?” Oliver asked. Roman glanced at Joaquin and tilted his head, non-verbally instructing him to sit Oliver next to his nurse, the very plain-looking, overly thin Mrs. Lavinia Spencer. The woman who could barely look him in the eye.
Oliver seemed content when Hightower came and sat next to him. Roman began to pace the deck and found the ship’s captain in short order.
“We’ll have you off in about forty minutes, Mr. Forrester. All in good time.”
“Anything you can do to speed the process will be appreciated.”
Shortly, they were all ashore with their trunks and valises at their sides and with wobbly legs beneath them. Oliver was seated on Mrs. Spencer’s trunk, looking pale from the ride on the wobbly skiff that brought them ashore.
“Let me make arrangements for a carriage,” Roman said. Five of them needed to fit into a conveyance. It was going to be a harried trip—the last of a harried, exhausting nightmare.
The dock was crowded with sailors, soldiers and the riffraff so common to the waterfront. An exciting place during the day; a dangerous one at night. They would be safely away by then.
“Roman, can we stay in Cadiz tonight? I am not feeling so well to travel today,” Oliver asked.
