Duke by Day, Rogue by Night by Katherine Bone Page A

frivolity ruled the day. No one suspected he’d enlisted into Frink’s ranks. His acquaintances thought him away on sabbatical, venturing to unknown lands before responsibilities tied him to London and his future role as the Seventh Duke of Blendingham.
    Simon had never needed to ask for his assistance on this particular mission. He was the first to comprise his crew, the first to communicate with Whistler, Nelson’s agent behind enemy lines. Though Whistler’s identity remained secret from everyone but Simon, Percy believed the mole would be the driving force behind the capture of Celeste’s killer. When the ill-timed message came stating that the Octavia was carrying precious cargo meant for the fox, Frink had jumped at the chance to claim the Octavia . No one doubted the captain meant to stash the cargo for himself. Others, including Simon and himself, believed Frink meant to deliver the bounty to his benefactor, the man pulling his purse strings. Is it any wonder that Frink was blindsided by the only thing aboard worth pilfering, Lady Constance? Was she the cargo meant for the fox? Did she have knowledge of the mole’s identity?
    He’d gone against Frink to save Constance’s life and cast his mission into dangerously uncharted waters. Lady Constance was a hindrance to his cause. Her very presence in his cabin was further evidence he’d been so long without civilized companionship that he was easily blinded by desires of the flesh.
    He had to refocus, turn his energy back to his quest. Frink was alive! Held in chains below, providing him a way to discover the source of the captain’s fiendish byplay. And as he sailed north to return Constance home, he still had time to question Frink about Josiah Cane’s whereabouts and his connection to the fox. Percy smiled. At last, he had something to look forward to. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.
    Steeling himself against the sway of the Striker as it cut through rough water, Percy nodded at Jacko, who appeared like clockwork at his side.
    â€œThere be a storm brewing. Will you be needing your sextant, sir?”
    â€œAye, Jacko. We’re in for more than we bargained for, if my suspicions are correct.”
    Percy lifted the mechanism to his eye and gazed out upon the expanse before them, relishing the breeze that tangled his unbound hair. Something twinged deep in his gut, a nagging question he couldn’t quite answer. What were the odds that Lady Constance would be on the very ship Whistler had identified to Frink?
    â€œJacko?” he asked. Between them, he and Jacko had experienced enough deception that a scenario like this wouldn’t come as a surprise.
    â€œAye, Captain.”
    â€œWhere’s Frink now?”
    â€œIn the hold, sir. We figured, if we wanted him to make it to London alive, we’d have to segregate him from his crew.” Jacko’s brow rose comically and he nodded his approval. “Many of the Octavia ’s men offered to guard him.”
    Percy quirked his brow. “With good intentions, no doubt?”
    â€œI’m sure that be the way of it, sir,” Jacko agreed with an impetuous smirk.
    â€œAlert the guards, I’ll be questioning the captain in a few hours.”
    â€œAye, sir. Has something happened?”
    â€œI’ve encountered some new information,” he said, unwilling to divulge anything more at the moment.
    Jacko sucked in his breath. “Tell me the girl isn’t involved, sir.”
    Percy wished someone would tell him the very same thing. Lifting the sextant to eye-level, Percy scanned the horizon, and then calculated their current position. They’d attacked the Octavia at the English Channel’s widest girth. The wind was steady with occasional gusts that hinted a storm brewed just over the horizon. With a good wind, it would take eight days to reach London. Lowering the v-shaped contraption, he stared at the horizon with