“How often do you do this?” she asked.
“Often enough.”
“And you’re not curious?”
He’d been tying his cravat, his fingers expertly looping and tucking the fabric. But at this he went still. “My job—no, my duty—is to transport documents and carry messages. Why do you think I could not delay our departure for Portugal? It wasn’t about me . It was never about me.”
He had to deliver a message. He was working for the government. Poppy’s brain was spinning. Everything was starting to make sense.
“This is how I serve my country,” he said. “It is what you must do, as well.”
“You’re telling me that I am somehow doing a service to the crown by telling a man I’ve never met that I long for blue skies?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Yes.”
“I . . .” She looked down. She was wringing her hands. She hadn’t realized it.
“Poppy?”
She let out a long breath. “I will do as you ask. But I must warn you. I don’t think I will be able to lead him back. I’m sure I will be blindfolded again when they take me back to the ship.”
“You won’t need to. When you are released you’ll be given some sort of message from the men holding us. Give it to Mr. Walpole. He will know what to do from there.”
“And then what will I do?”
“Keep yourself safe.”
Poppy felt her jaw clamp into a rigid vise. It was not in her nature to sit idly by when she could be helpful, but in such a situation, she had to wonder—could she be helpful? Or would she just get in the way?
“Do not do something stupid, Poppy,” he warned. “As God is my witness—”
“I can barely fire a rifle,” she said testily. “I’m not going to come swishing back with delusions of saving you myself.”
He smiled a bit at that.
“What?”
“I’m just imagining you swishing. I’m not sure what it is.”
She glared at him.
“Listen to me.” He took her hand. “I appreciate your concern more than I could ever say. And without you—without your going to see the envoy—my situation would be very bleak. But you must not do more than that.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “I would be in the way.”
He did not contradict her. She had kind of hoped he would.
“Poppy,” he said, his voice urgent, “I—”
They both froze at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Their captors were coming back, earlier than they’d expected.
Andrew dropped her hand and took a step back. His demeanor changed, as if his every muscle had been put on alert. His eyes darted to the door, and then to Poppy, then did a quick sweep of the room before landing on her little half boots, on their sides by the table where she’d kicked them off hours before. He scooped them up and handed them to her. “Put them on.”
She did. Quickly.
The footsteps drew close, followed by the sound of a key being inserted into the look.
Poppy turned to Andrew. She was terrified. More than she’d been throughout the entire ordeal.
“I will get out of here,” he vowed, even as the doorknob made an ominous turn. “And I will find you.”
And then all Poppy could do was pray.
In the end, it was simple. Terrifying, but simple. Minutes after the bandits came back, Poppy was blindfolded and returned to the Infinity . The journey took no more than a quarter of an hour; it seemed Andrew had been right about their circuitous route the day before.
It was still dark when she reached the ship, but the deck was already teeming with sailors, more than Poppy would have expected so early in the morning. But this was no ordinary morning. Their captain had been taken prisoner, and they had to be ready for anything.
The first person she saw was Green, which was fortunate, since he was one of only three people on board she actually knew. He and Brown insisted upon escorting her to the address Andrew had provided, and after a quick check on Billy, who was still groggy but otherwise recuperating, Poppy headed back out into the city.
“D’you think they’re watching us?” Brown asked, his bushy brows drawing down as he flicked his eyes from one side of the street to the other. The sun had only just come up, the pinkish light cast a mysterious air over the city.
“Probably,” Poppy said. “Captain James told them that I would need to meet with someone to secure the funds. So they’re not expecting me to remain on board.”
“I don’t like it,” Brown muttered.
Neither did Poppy, but she didn’t see how she had a choice.
“This is what the captain told her to do,” Green said. “If he told her to do this, then he must’ve had a reason.”
“He indicated that the gentleman I’m going to see would be able to help,” Poppy said.
Green looked at Brown with one eyebrow raised and an expression on his face that clearly said, See?
“I don’t like it,” Brown said again.
“I didn’t say I did ,” Green returned.
“Well, you sounded like—”
“None of us like it,” Poppy snapped.
They both looked at her.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Am I wrong?”
“Er, no,” one of them mumbled, while the other said, “No, no, not wrong at all.”
“Should we take a funny route?” Green asked. “Take ’em round in circles and whatnot?”
“Maybe,” Poppy said. “I don’t know. It’s probably just as important that we deliver the message quickly.” She thought of Andrew, of the men still holding him, all of them with guns, knives, and unpleasant dispositions. “Straight there,” she decided. “As quickly as we can.”
A quarter of an hour later, Poppy was standing in front of a gray stone building in a quietly elegant section of the city. “This is it,” she said. She had already made it clear to Brown and Green that they could not accompany her inside.
“Good-bye, then,” she said after thanking them once again for their assistance. She took a breath. She could do this.
“Er, Miss Poppy!” Brown called out.
She paused halfway up the steps, and turned.
“Good luck,” he said. “If anyone can save him, it’s you.”
She blinked, startled by the unexpected compliment.
“You’re tough,” he said. “Er, in a good way.”
“Mr. Farias told us what you did for Billy,” Green said. “It’s . . . ehrm . . . You . . .”
Brown let out an exasperated snort. “He means thank you.”
Green nodded. “God will surely look kindly on you. It was a proper good thing you did.”
“And we’re sorry about the sack,” Brown added. “And the, er . . .” He motioned toward his mouth. “The stuff. You know, that we used to . . .”
She gave him a wry smile. “Render me unconscious?”
His already ruddy cheeks turned a bright red as he mumbled, “Yes, that.”
“It is already forgotten,” she said. Which wasn’t exactly the truth, but considering everything that had happened after, it hardly seemed of consequence. “Now, go.” She shooed them away. “You can’t be seen loitering on the streets when I knock.”
They stepped reluctantly away, and then Poppy was truly on her own. The door was opened mere seconds after she brought the knocker down on its brass plate, and she was immediately taken to wait in a small but comfortable drawing room. After a few minutes, a gentleman entered.
She stood at once. “Mr. Walpole?”
He regarded her with some aloofness. “I am he.”
“My name is Poppy Bridgerton. I was told to come see you by Captain Andrew James.”
He did not react at her mention of either name—hers or Andrew’s, and in fact seemed almost bored as he walked over to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy.
Poppy did not remark upon the earliness of the hour. If he thought he needed brandy before breakfast who was she to argue?
He held out an empty glass, tipping in her direction.