Evermore (30 page)

“My name is Matilda Upton and I have a
proposition for you.”

“Really? How intriguing.” He gave a shallow
bow. “I am propositioned by beautiful ladies every day but none of
them are quite so...determined as you.”

She blushed then silently cursed the pale
complexion that made it obvious. “Oh. When I said proposition, I
meant...my aunt and I would like to employ you, Captain, in a
venture rather risky in nature.”

“My favorite kind. But my services are not
for sale.”

“You haven’t heard my offer yet!”

“I don’t need to. I have enough copper.” He
strode off and did not look back.

“I’m not offering copper,” she said quickly.
“I’m offering redemption.”

He stopped and for one long moment, didn’t
move. Then slowly he walked back to her. “Redemption?”

Tilda’s skin tingled with excitement. She
had him. When she’d first made her enquiries about this man, she’d
guessed he couldn’t be lured by copper or material objects so she’d
looked for other means. It seemed her instincts had been correct.
“A chance to clear your name. Of your original crime,” she added,
in case he assumed she meant all his subsequent pirating. She was
no miracle worker.

Knight said nothing. The light summer breeze
carried the sounds of the new docks both above and at ground
level—the hammering of iron nails, the clank of chains as cargoes
were loaded and unloaded, the whistle of the steam engines as ships
jostled for space above. In the lane where they stood motionless, a
baby mewled and a door banged. Dirty faces in the shadows pretended
not to watch the strangers. Tilda pretended not to notice them.
Thankfully they were out of earshot. No one must overhear their
conversation.

Eventually Knight spoke. “For a guilty man,
that kind of redemption is impossible.” His blue gaze challenged
hers.

“You don’t believe you’re guilty.”

“I know I’m not,” he said, too mildly for a
man who would be locked up in Newgate if the constables discovered
him and hung if convicted by a jury. “But do you?”

Beside Tilda, Aunt Winnie drew a sharp
breath. “That,” said Tilda, “is irrelevant for my purpose.”

“And what is your purpose, Chick?”

“Her name is Miss Upton,” said Aunt Winnie
from behind the lacy handkerchief she held to her nose. “A
gentleman would call her such.”

He laughed. “I’m no gentleman, Madam.”

“You were,” said Tilda. “Once.”

“I repeat,” he said as if he hadn’t heard
her, “what is your purpose with me?”

“I want you to find a ship,” she said, “and
capture its treasure.”

“Which ship? What treasure?”

“The Adrienne. It carries an object I wish
to obtain. That’s all you need to know.”

“No, it isn’t. What object? Gold? Jewels?
Information?”

Perhaps it was only fair that he knew the
reason he would be risking his life. Although not the entire
reason. Not yet. Not until he had agreed. “A man. He’s traveling
from the Orient to the king of France. The airship is equipped with
cannon and a brigade of gendarmes. He won’t be easy to
capture.”

“What is so special about this man that
requires the French king to send some of his own personal bodyguard
to protect him?” He stepped closer and his hard blue eyes swept
over her, their iciness pinning her to the spot. She shivered but
met his gaze when it finally returned to her face. “And why, Miss
Upton,” he continued, “do you want him badly enough to risk your
reputation and your neck to follow the likes of me through the
bowels of London?”

Tilda hesitated. How much should she
divulge? Reveal everything and she risked the unscrupulous pirate
making off with her treasure. But reveal too little and he might
refuse the commission altogether, despite her offer.

“Matilda,” Aunt Winnie whispered. “Tell
him.”

Tilda nodded reluctantly. “I have been, er,
commissioned to find him." Knight gave no indication he'd noticed
her hesitation. "The Oriental is an inventor.” There, not a lie,
although it danced around the truth. "He's made a machine which my
employer wishes to possess. Don't ask me what it does, I don't
know. Nor can I tell you who I work for. I've been sworn to
secrecy."

“I see,” said Knight. He rubbed his stubbly
chin with a hand criss-crossed by old scars. “And my payment? My
redemption?”

Tilda's discreet enquiries had taken her to
a moderate and rundown house in the low part of Clapham where she
had bought the chronometer talisman from a man only too pleased to
liquidate his one valuable asset. She had probably paid too much
for it but the man, once the butler in the Ironside household, had
given her the piece of information she could use to entice Knight.
He’d told her the entire story behind Jack Knight’s downfall from
younger brother of the third Baron Ironside to ironwing slave then
sky pirate. She had been fascinated, appalled and ultimately
relieved when she realized she could use his history as leverage
for her cause.

“I can find the witness you’ve been seeking
these last three years,” she said to him.

His head jerked back as if he'd been punched
in the jaw. If he'd been wearing a hat it would have fallen off.
“How do you know about that?”

“I visited your family home in Richmond and
asked some of the servants about you. Everyone knows you fled the
country but they told me you were in fact seeking the man you claim
witnessed the death of your brother. Most of your servants think
you’re innocent, by the way. Of your brother’s murder, at least.”
It was one of the maids who'd suggested Tilda find the man who'd
been the Ironside's butler at the time of the baron's death. She
had, and was relieved the visit had been fruitful.

“I am.”

“So you say.” His innocence was neither here
nor there, although it was reassuring to think that the man she was
about to employ wasn’t as black-hearted as his name implied.
Fratricide was a serious charge and all the evidence pointed to his
guilt. He stood to inherit his childless brother’s lands, title and
factories, but worse, Thomas Knight, Lord Ironside, was known to
have been a beast to his employees, something the younger brother
couldn’t abide. They’d clashed many times, often with violent
consequences. In the past, Thomas, older by four years, had always
won those physical contests but when Jack eventually surpassed him
in size and ability, he had out-mastered Thomas. The younger
brother had proved to be a superb natural swordsman, shooter and
puglisist and by all accounts, Lord Ironside hated him for it.
Their rivalry became legendary. And deadly.

Jack Knight’s coarse laughter unexpectedly
cut through the silence. “Go back to your mama, Little Chick.
You’re wasting my time.”

He made to stride off again but Tilda caught
his arm. Her fingers closed over hard muscle that flexed beneath
her touch. “My mother is dead, as is my father. Aunt Winnie is all
I have.” She let go of his arm. He didn’t move. “He's a sailor on a
merchant airship, your witness. But I suspect you know that
already.”

The brief flicker of his lashes meant Tilda
had guessed correctly. Knight had apparently fled to the sky after
his brother’s death to find the witness as well as avoid capture.
Even after he escaped the airship on which he’d been an ironwing
slave—one of dozens of men forced to operate the massive iron wings
when the ship ran out of steam—he’d stayed in the air, albeit as a
pirate.

“I will take you to him after you bring me
the Oriental. Trust me, Captain. I will find him for you.”

“How?”

She concentrated on being still to give an
outward appearance of calmness even though her nerves felt frayed
under the pirate’s penetrating gaze. “I don’t feel obliged to
reveal that at this point in our negotiations.” She had no
intention of sharing that particular secret with someone she didn’t
know and certainly didn’t trust. She'd made the terrible mistake
with Sir Magnus Grimshaw, she wasn't going to make it again.

“I see.” He leaned one shoulder against the
grimy brick wall of the nearby warehouse. Two young boys ran past,
squealing with excitement as they chased each other. Knight crossed
his arms and watched the boys disappear round the corner. “You’ve
been following me for some twenty minutes through a part of London
where no lady should wander,” he said without looking at her or
Aunt Winnie. “Considering my reputation you took a risk coming here
with only one matronly aunt and a hidden dagger to protect
you.”

How did he know about the dagger?

The eyes he turned on her shone with a
wicked gleam. “Is it strapped to your thigh?” he asked, his voice a
purr. His gaze traveled lazily from the crimson lapels of her gown
down the tight black bodice to the base of her skirt, slashed to
reveal the crimson satin inserts, as if he could see through all
the layers to her drawers. “No, too difficult to retrieve in a
hurry.” He caught her hand, the one not holding the chronometer.
She didn’t try to move away although Aunt Winnie protested loudly.
His calloused fingers slowly pushed up Tilda’s sleeve to reveal
white skin and the point of her dagger. He explored the goosebumps
prickling her flesh before drawing her hand up to his lips. He
kissed her fingertips, knuckles and wrist, sending warmth humming
across her skin.

Tilda, caught off guard by the gentlemanly
gesture and her body’s enthusiastic response to it, took several
heartbeats to react. She snatched back her hand.

In a move so quick she didn’t have time to
gasp, Black Jack Knight spun her round and held a dagger to her
throat. Her dagger. The cold steel stroked her skin and the lips
that had kissed her hand now whispered in her ear: “How did you
find me?”

Behind her, Aunt Winnie screamed again but
the sound ended with a stifled gurgle. The Captain must have given
her a murderous glare to silence her.

Tilda shivered as the blade dug into her
flesh. One flick of his wrist and she would bleed to death before
Aunt Winnie could run for help. Not that Aunt Winnie could run
anywhere with her voluminous skirts and a bustle the size of a
watermelon.

Tilda's fingers closed tighter over the
talisman still in her free hand and recited the story she’d
memorized earlier. “We frequented several taverns near the docks
until we saw you at the White Swan. When you left, we followed. I
suppose we were fortunate to find you so quickly.”

“Very. Considering my spies at those taverns
would have sent word that a pretty lady sought me. Besides which, I
only docked yesterday after a long voyage and no one except my crew
knew we were coming to London. You would have to be a seer to know
I would be here today.”

She sucked in a steadying breath. Keep calm.
He doesn’t know. He couldn’t possibly.

He let go of her only long enough to swing
her round and grab her other hand. He squeezed her wrist and her
fingers opened, releasing the chronometer.

“Where did you get this?” he growled.

“That’s my business.”

“No. This...” He held it up and the sliver
of light filtering between the hulls of two airships above picked
out the Ironside family crest etched into the brass case. “This is
very much my business. Talk.”

Beyond him, Aunt Winnie shook her head
emphatically. “We’ll tell you nothing.”

“Then let me guess,” said the Captain
without looking at Winnie. “You’re not a seer, you’re a hellhag and
this chronometer is your talisman to find me. And you have
something else in your possession that will lead you to the
Oriental as well as the man I seek. Correct?”

Aunt Winnie’s face drained of color and
Tilda felt the heavy air wrap around her like a stifling blanket.
The two women drew instinctively closer together.

“I’m not a hellhag,” she whispered.

“But you mustn’t tell anyone about this,”
Winnie added.

He shrugged. “Honor our transaction and I
will keep your secret.” He dropped the chronometer in the inside
pocket of his long black leather coat. “But if you use your powers
to help the authorities find me, I won’t be able to keep that
promise. Understand?”

“Agreed.”

He nodded. “Now, let’s discuss terms.
Everything on the Adrienne other than your Oriental is mine.”

“I thought you didn’t want financial
payment.”

“Not for me, my crew. If I don’t give them
some incentive I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.”

“You can’t command your own men?” Aunt
Winnie snorted.

“Madam, my crew’s loyalty is not something I
want to test up there.” He nodded skyward where one of the airships
moored to an iron ring on the ground nudged the propeller of a
dirigible next to it.

“I agree to your terms,” Tilda said. “I only
want the Oriental.”

“I sail at first light. I’ll have an
agreement drawn up by then for you to sign.”

“A little formal for a pirate, don’t you
think?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust anyone.
Especially little chicks and their mother hens who can find anyone
anywhere.” A devil-may-care wickedness tugged at the corners of his
lips and eyes. “Don’t worry, it will merely stipulate that I’ll
hunt you down and gut you like a fish if you double-cross me.”

Aunt Winnie swooned and Tilda caught her
before she hit the ground. Fortunately the big woman recovered
quickly because Tilda didn’t have the strength to hold her for long
and Knight didn’t make any attempt to help.

“I won’t double-cross you if you keep your
word,” Tilda said, unperturbed. She had every intention of keeping
her end of the bargain.

“Then you’ll have no problem signing the
articles. You can do it before I sail in the morning. Be early. My
airship is the three-mast brigantine flying the German flag.”

“German?”

He nodded. “Under the patronage of an
obscure merchant from that country.”

“So obscure that no one has heard of him?
Including other German merchants?” She couldn’t hide her smile.
Tilda admired the devil’s ingenuity. She had wondered how the
pirate could dock undetected by the authorities while he restocked
and repaired. “I’ll be there,” she said.