She nodded. “I’ll tell her. Do you know if Wainscott has been invited?”
“I don’t, but it is likely he has been since the Fieldings are friendly with Lady Alexandra’s father. Will you alert Finn and Tynan? Let my brothers know the situation. I need them to protect Dahlia from that weasel if he decides to cause trouble.”
Holly nodded, but Ronan was not sure how much she was taking in. That Joshua was about to ride off to help him quell a local confrontation had her trembling and ashen.
“Holly, please. I’ll be mad with worry if Dahlia is left unguarded while he is anywhere close by.”
She nodded. “I will. Of course. I love my sister. I won’t let any harm come to her.”
Joshua rode off to his regimental headquarters while Ronan left to arrange for the barges and round up as much rope as he could gather. His hope was to tow the battleship out of the shallows and into deeper waters. This could be done if the river bed was soft enough. The vessel could be harmlessly pushed through silt and reeds.
Finding the rope proved to be a fairly simple task. One of their biggest suppliers of rigging for their battleships had a warehouse at the London docks.
It took Ronan another hour to summon the owner, one Lord Stonehurst. In turn, Lord Stonehurst sent word to his foreman for his workers to start loading the ropes onto the barges immediately. Once this was underway, Ronan rode to the Admiralty to gather whatever maps he could find that charted the Thames seabed around Tilbury.
Shortly before dawn, he watched the barges pull out of their slips at the London docks. He then rode in the graying light to Joshua’s headquarters to travel overland with his brother’s regiment while the supply-laden barges sailed to Tilbury.
He was exhausted.
But now was not the time to rest. He would catch a few winks while in the saddle. He glanced up at the sky, hoping for good weather. Getting that leviathan back into the North Sea would be a Herculean task. He had no wish to do it with snow and ice pelting down on them.
Having to work in icy waters was bad enough.
He couldn’t send divers down to assess the damage, for they wouldn’t survive more than five minutes in those frigid depths. Also, the Thames was murky. Very little light would filter down to the lower depths of the hull. The divers would be exploring in the dark.
No, he would simply have to rely on the maps and pray hard they were accurate.
“Ronan,” his brother said, grabbing his arm as he was about to slip off his mount. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, Josh.” But he wasn’t really, and his brother knew it. The political storm the navy would have to face over The Invictus stranding itself on the Thames was going to be bad. He was now in charge of this thorny operation. Being a mere captain, it was more than likely his name would be put forth as the one to blame if it failed.
More damning was his role as naval liaison to Parliament. He was the face these politicians saw every day.
Yes, they would have a merry old time kicking his arse.
Perhaps the true incompetents would be disciplined eventually, but he doubted they would ever be seriously touched. Viscount Hawley, the obvious culprit, had powerful connections to see him through this incident more or less unscathed.
Ronan thought no more of the headaches he was facing.
He would deal with each problem as it arose.
His greatest concern was for Dahlia. Would she make it through Lord Fielding’s dinner party on her own? Lord Stoke was going to have her seated beside him. She had handled the duke brilliantly at Lady Broadhurst’s party. Would she be as successful tonight?
And what of that weasel, Wainscott?
Did he have more humiliation in mind for Dahlia?
Or was he plotting something more sinister?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Holly, do you think I can send my regrets to Lord Fielding?” Dahlia was dismayed to learn Ronan had left for Tilbury. The hour was early still, but Holly had wasted no time in stopping by to fill her in on all that had happened after Ronan and the Lord Admiral departed Lady Broadhurst’s musicale.
The two of them were now seated in Aunt Sophie’s parlor, chatting alone. Neither Aunt Sophie nor Heather had come down yet. Hortensia was awake and somewhere in the house, but she never liked to engage in conversation before having had her morning coffee.
Her sister frowned. “No, you cannot send your regrets to Lord Fielding. His party is tonight. He will be terribly offended if you back out.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Then Ronan will think I am a coward. I need to show him that I can stand on my own.”
Holly reached over to give her hand a squeeze. “You have more spirit and independence than I ever had at your age.”
Dahlia laughed. “You are only three years older, but the way you talk sometimes, one would think you were thirty years older.”
“Well, I never had your effortless charm. Until Joshua came along, I was on my way to turning into a younger version of Aunt Hortensia.” She made a wrinkled prune face, then glanced around. “Oh, dear. I hope she didn’t catch that. But I’ve gotten off the point. Ronan is very proud of you. He knows you are no simpering debutante prone to the vapors. However, he cannot help but feel protective of you. This is who he is. But enough about him. Now for the next important issue...”
“What is that?”
Holly grinned as she came to her feet. “What are you going to wear tonight? Come on, let’s go upstairs and wake Heather. Did Violet sleep over?”
“No, she’s in her own home.” Which was only next door, so she did not have very far to walk if she was inclined to join them. “Romulus is due back any day now, and she did not want him returning to an empty house.”
Holly smiled. “She must be eager to see him. As for you, show me your gowns. Not that I will be any help whatsoever in choosing what you or Heather should wear this evening. You were always the one who helped me with my wardrobe.”
They ultimately chose a rose silk gown for her and a silvery blue one for Heather. The silk fabrics were from the Farthingale mills. As Dahlia cast a final critical eye over their choices, Dahlia recalled her Uncle Rupert’s stories about his travels east, the mulberry trees and silkworms. The gowns were beautiful, but also of special significance now that she knew the tales behind the origins of this fabric.
Holly’s eyes were sparkling as she gave them a final inspection. “You will both look stunning.”
They had rustled Heather out of bed to choose their gowns. She stifled a yawn, not yet fully awake. “I hope so. I need to make a good impression on the Marquess of Tilbury.”
“Tilbury?” Dahlia’s thoughts immediately shot back to Ronan and his miserable assignment. She was not yet wise to the workings of politics but knew someone would have to take the blame for this glaring mistake.
She curled her hands into fists, determined to start garnering favors that could be called in to protect Ronan, if necessary. She’d start with the Duke of Stoke. If he wanted her to befriend his daughter, then she would ask him to help Ronan. But only if there was no other recourse. She knew Ronan would not appreciate her interference otherwise.
“Has Lord Tilbury given you any indication he is interested in you, Heather?” Holly had asked the question, bringing Dahlia’s thoughts back to her sisters.