He dips his chin. “All right, then. Norrington is a former Navy admiral. On the death of his father, he returned home. Now, while Whitby has its share of smugglers, the true center of it in these parts is here. The late Lord Norrington preferred to manage his farms. He turned a blind eye to smuggling on his coastal lands and in his ports and even on his ships. A suitable arrangement for all.”

“Until the new Lord Norrington put a stop to it.”

Nicolas’s laugh startles a plover. “Norrington had no intention of stopping anything. He simply wanted a bigger cut. Impossibly bigger. When the smugglers refused, Norrington cast the net of his displeasure far and wide, over even innocent fishing families and local trading ships. He has all but shut down Hood’s Bay. Anything coming in or going out is subject to his secret tariffs.”

“And you are helping those innocent victims.”

He makes a face. “There are many good people helping. I am in a unique position to do more, on account of my history and my lack of local ties. Norrington cannot threaten my mother or sister or wife or daughter if I have none.”

“None at all? Or none here?”

“None here.” He wags a finger at me. “If that was a hint to reveal my past, it falls on deaf ears.”

“Still, it must be a very interesting past, all things considered. You are hardly a likely candidate for Robin Hood of Yorkshire.”

His gaze cools. “You refer, of course, to the color of my skin.”

“No, I refer to your accent. I doubt there are many Frenchmen among British privateers.”

He relaxes. “You would be surprised. As for my past, I shall address it briefly. I am from Martinique, not France. My grandfather was a French marquis who settled in Martinique and fell in love with and married a freed woman of color. Then my father married a woman of color who had been freed as a child. They arranged for me to complete my medical education in France. I was on my way there when war broke out between my country and yours, and my ship was captured. I made the mistake of proving my medical skills and found myself pressed into the service of the English king.”

“I am sorry you were captured.”

He shrugs. “I could have escaped, but with the revolution in France, it was hardly the time for a marquis’s son to visit. I stayed with the privateers by choice and sent letters to my family assuring them I was fine.”

“Until you were not.”

“Oui. Until I was not. We were docked in Whitby. I was ashore helping with a typhus outbreak when the news came that my captain had been accused of treason, my crew captured. My captain and three crew members were hanged, with the others being sent south for trial. A warrant was issued for my arrest. Given my accent and my skin color, I could not hope to slip away. Families I had helped with the typhus passed me along to others in Hood’s Bay for safekeeping.”