At this hour the business was booming, and there were very few chairs left unoccupied in the establishment. An arm rose at the back of the room, blue wool sleeve, gold lace stripe, and buttons at the cuff. That was sure to be Captain Hastings, his cousin’s commanding officer, waiting to meet him as arranged. Merrick eased through the crowd, stopping when he reached the table. “Hastings. Thank you for coming.” Pale blue eyes met his, the kind that reminded him of a windswept sky and hours of solitude. Hastings and Merrick had met in a Southport tavern some ten years ago when Hastings had been a lieutenant on leave from his uncle’s command and Merrick at loose ends. They had been friends ever since, with one short period of estrangement that they both preferred not to talk about. “How could I resist such a cryptic and urgent message?” Hastings shifted his bicorne to the side of the table. “I’ll have you know I left behind a very comfortable bed that does not rock with the tide, so I hope our business does not delay my return to it for very long.
