Justine leaned forward, propping her hands on the chest for support. Candlelight played on her face, flickered in the blue centers of her narrowed eyes. “If Cate were there, it’s possible another goddess born from London joined her. Dr. Gillman has dark hair, though he and Cate are not on the best of terms at the moment.” She tapped a finger in thought. “My first guess is that you went through a different altar, not that it matters anymore as you’ve both returned safe and sound. Hopefully, Mr. Roth will have secured something for the morning, and we’ll be long gone before anyone has time to find us.”
Julian’s stare weighed on me while she spoke. In no mood for his questions, I pushed up from the floor and walked to the window. Leaning one shoulder against the wall, I peered past the rough wool drapery to the road below. A sea of black hats and various colored hoods moved this way and that, similar to the flow of my thoughts. I pulled my cape tighter and pressed my forehead against the windowpane. Several fat raindrops hit the glass a moment before the dark clouds burst open, and the scene below turned to a watery blur.
Closing my eyes, I moved my attention inward to the dark-haired man from the garden. I would have given anything for a clear view of his face, even risked a confrontation with my grandmother if need be. The man had been turning toward us, but Julian pulled me away a split second too early.
It couldn’t have been him.
To think otherwise would be a grievous deception, one that led straight to despair. Dr. Gillman was a prime candidate, or any other dark-headed goddess born who remained among the living.
Someone knocked on the door, and James came into the room. Rain dripped from his greatcoat to form a pool of water at his feet.
Justine stood, scraping the chair against the floor in her haste. “What have you found?”
His cheeks were flushed red with cold. “I’ve secured passage for today. We’ve half an hour to be aboard to make the tide, or it will be another day at least for the next ships to leave. From what I’ve heard, a storm is moving in, and many of the captains won’t be sailing till it’s blown through.”
Julian pushed up from the chest. “Well done, Mr. Roth. I shall be ready in a moment.” He began tucking in his shirt.
James grabbed a saddlebag from the pile. “I’ll make arrangements with the innkeeper to stable the horses until we return. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.” He left without another word.
Moving from the window, I dressed quickly behind the bed drape, and within a quarter hour we were back on the road, ankle-deep in mud. The rain continued in full force, drenching us through by the time we reached the docks. James approached a man who sheltered beneath an overhang of what appeared to be a fishery shed. I recognized him at once from the amber cape, not to mention the eye patch and profusion of white hair.
He thrust a hand at James. “Just in time, me lad,” he said in his think Irish brogue. Spying the rest of our party, he stepped aside and doffed his hat in a low bow. “Master Calhoun at your service, skilled apothecary and peddler o’ cures for any manner of ailments.”
We all nodded in greeting when James added to the introduction. “He’s a personal acquaintance of the captain and called in a favor to get us aboard on such short notice.”
A wide smile split the man’s round face. “A friend of the silver, the captain is, though there’s no one better to navigate this cursed river once the storms be upon us.” His amiable gaze swept across our group, and I hunched into my cape as his one good eye stopped on me. “There’s a snug cabin all ready below deck. Let’s be off, and you’ll be warm in no time, you will.”
Justine moved beside me. “Your kindness is much appreciated, Master Calhoun.” She glanced at James. “Mr. Roth, may we have a private word please?”
Impatience filled his face. “What is it, Miss Rose? We’ve no time to waste lollygagging if we intend to make this ship.”
“I must beg an indulgence,” she said, sugar-coating a more serious undertone. “It is of the utmost importance.”
James exhaled. “Very well, but make it quick.” He looked at the man. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”
“You’ve no more than that, me lad. The Sea Witch be sailing at half past, whether you’re on board or not. The captain won’t risk the mud for any man, nor any price.”
“We’ll be aboard,” James assured him. “This will only take a minute.”
Master Calhoun stepped from beneath the cover, his amber cloak and wide-brimmed hat swaying as he walked the short distance to the waiting ship.
James rounded on Justine the very second we were alone. “What’s the problem, Miss Rose?”
She pursed her lovely mouth. “I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I,” Julian added.
“Of course you don’t,” James said, clearly exasperated. “The man’s a bloody Irishman! It’s not in his nature to be trustworthy.”
My chin jutted forward. “There’s no need to be rude, Mr. Roth. I’m Irish and I still don’t like him.” It hadn’t occurred to me until now, and in truth I wasn’t exactly sure why except that the odd attire lent him the appearance of an eccentric buccaneer.