Six Degrees of Scandal by Caroline Linden Page A

Lieutenant Crawford asks, I’ll give,” said Mr. Hicks at once, straddling the bench. He laid the unfolded note on the table. Render this man all aid within your power, as a favor to me—Lt. D. Crawford , it read. “You’ve only to ask, sir.”
    Jamie didn’t look at the paper. “I know what he wrote, but I’m not here to ask for favors. I’m prepared to pay handsomely for your inconvenience.”
    â€œNo inconvenience at all, not for a friend of the lieutenant.” Hicks sat with military straightness, his gaze trained on James’s face. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œI need three things.” He held up his fingers. “A closed carriage, as fast as you can find that will also allow travel with some privacy, along with a good horse or two to pull it.”
    â€œI’ll have one by tomorrow morning,” Hicks vowed.
    â€œNo one must know it’s for me, or hear my name.”
    Hicks shrugged. “I don’t know your name, sir.”
    Jamie grinned. “Exactly. I also need a hamper of provisions, enough to feed a man for three days at least. Can you stow it in the carriage?”
    â€œI can and I will.”
    He nodded in approval. “And the last thing I need is information. I understand there’s a solicitor named Charters in Gravesend.”
    â€œThere was,” said Hicks. “Dead now—must be nigh on four or five months.”
    â€œYes. What sort of fellow was he?” He saw Hicks hesitate. “A man of discretion?”
    â€œAye,” was the immediate reply. “That he was.”
    Jamie leaned forward and lowered his voice. “The sort a free trader might be able to trust?”
    Hicks looked wary at the mention of smugglers, but gave a slow nod. “Might have been. I didn’t have much business with him.”
    â€œBut you heard things, surely.” When Hicks hesitated again, Jamie dropped his voice another level. “The man is dead. I mean no harm to him or his memory. Did he leave a widow?”
    From his expression, Hicks was struggling with his conscience. Jamie waited. Daniel Crawford, his friend and source of information in London, had sworn Hicks would rise to the occasion, but the pull of loyalty to home was strong. “No,” said his host at last.
    Damn. That cut off one main source of hope, that there could be evidence hidden with the original solicitor’s family. “A brother?” Jamie pressed. “A mother? Did he have anyone at all?”
    â€œHe had a daughter,” said Hicks after a moment’s thought. “Out near Ramsgate, I think, but no other family I heard of.”
    That was a link, however slim. “Do you know her name?”
    After a moment Hicks shook his head. “She married a vicar, is all I remember.”
    â€œWhat do you know of the man who assumed his practice?”
    Hicks relaxed. “Horatio Armand. He come from Rye, I believe.”
    Another smuggling haven. “Is he cut from the same cloth as Charters?”
    The other man’s mouth opened, then closed. He lifted one shoulder, his expression unreadable.
    Jamie altered his approach. “I don’t intend to use this information against anyone. In fact, it helps me less if both men were upright and law-abiding supporters of the customs collector. Butsomeone’s safety, perhaps someone’s life, hangs in the balance.”
    Hicks sighed. He frowned at the note on the table. “I can only repeat some gossip, aye? I had nothing to do with any of it myself.”
    â€œOf course not.” Jamie even knew it was true. Hicks had been away at sea, a midshipman under Daniel Crawford’s command, until two years ago, when he suffered his disfiguring injuries in the East Indies. He’d come home to recuperate and been unable to find a place on another ship in the navy when he was well. Daniel had spoken of him as the most responsible and capable man to have