She held up the candle and leaned in closer when she noticed several maps laid out, with dotted lines extending from land mass to land mass. Each had a piece of parchment on top, and in tidy writing, lists of goods beneath what must be the ship’s name.
Her pulse leapt when she saw Grae’s name at the top of one list, under the name The Marguerite Heart. She traced the letters of his name with her finger. Her gaze drifted over the room, settling on the wall to the right. There were paintings hanging there, and when she moved the candle closer, she saw that they were portraits. Grae and Sophia as young children, posing with a spotted dog at their feet. Mrs. Sinclair and Grae’s father, his hand on her shoulder as she sat in a red chair. Grae, older now, standing in front of a three-masted ship. She stopped at that one. It was the same ship that she’d been on. The artist had managed to capture the seriousness of his expression, but also the sparkle of happiness in his eyes. Pride.
It was a look she knew well.
Arista set the candle down on the desk, careful to move a stack of papers well out of the flame’s reach, then crept back toward the door. She must have made a sound that woke Grae’s father, for he opened his eyes and stared blindly at her. “No matter what he offers you, he still owns you in the end. He controls us all like marionettes.”
Arista froze. “What?”
His eyes became a little bit clearer and he tried to push himself upright in the chair. “His promises mean nothing. Be careful or he will suck you down to the depths of hell alongside him.”
“Who are you talking about?” She already knew.
“The man who sent you here. The man who ruined all our lives. That bastard, Wild. I won’t do it—I won’t be party to humans being sold like cattle. Never…” Before she could ask anything more, his eyes closed, and the back of his head hit the chair. Soft snores came from his half-open mouth. His hand fell to his side, and a piece of crumpled paper fell to the floor.
Arista stooped down to pick it up. Whatever had caused Grae’s father to drink himself into darkness, she was sure it was written on that paper.
Mr. Sinclair,
I now have within my possession proof of your smuggling activities in recent years. Don’t bother to deny them—they are irrefutable. A certain mutual friend of ours has given me everything I need.
You have turned me down before, but I now hold the future of your very livelihood in my hands. I will have access to your fastest ships at any convenience it serves me to transport my cargo. There will be no questions and there will be no denying me anymore. You will agree this time.
Unless, of course, you are willing to give up your children’s legacy and lose everything you have worked for. You will have nothing if I do not hear from you.
Lord E. F. Raffer
No. This could not be. But the dual R’s imprinted in the red wax seal told her otherwise. She tried to take a step, but her legs would not support her. The knots in her stomach grew until it hurt to take a breath. The secret that Wild had given Raffer, the money exchanged—half of which was sitting in her traveling bag right that second—had been used to blackmail Grae’s father into transporting slaves.
Innocent men, women, and children, kidnapped from Africa and sold into slavery. Nothing sickened her more than the trade that made some of England’s wickedest men some of its richest. She’d played a part in this.
Tears burned her eyes and she crumpled the paper in her fist. Grae would never forgive her if he found out. No, when he did. Because he would. Her dreams shattered and fell around her feet. There would be no leaving London with Grae now.
How quickly could she arrange passage on another ship? Wild knew what she was doing. There was no more time. Her carefully thought-out plan was ruined.
Mr. Sinclair groaned in his sleep.
He was a good man, and she believed that he would deny Raffer what he wanted no matter the threat. If Raffer exposed Mr. Sinclair’s previous smuggling activities, Grae’s father would end up in Newgate with his livelihood taken away. With no ships, no trade routes, the family would have nothing. Grae would have no future.
She could not let that vile man destroy this good family. Even if she had to face the wrath of Wild, she had to save them. There were a dozen more secrets she might be able to offer to Wild in exchange for his help stopping Raffer. He was greedy. He’d see the value in that.
And she owed it to the family for treating her so well. For accepting her without question. She owed it to Grae. Because he’d showed her that she was worth something after all.