Beyond Seduction

Chapter 18

Madeline had had more than enough of being jolted about in a flying carriage. The one aspect that made this second breakneck journey infinitely more bearable than the first was Ben; he was lying curled up on the seat, his head in her lap, dozing as they raced along.

It was now midmorning; as before, they’d traveled through the night, stopping only to have fresh horses put to. Gervase, Ben and she were traveling in the lead in their hired carriage, with the same two Cornish coachmen on the box. Christian and Dalziel were following close behind in a well-sprung carriage with the marquess’s coat of arms blazoned on the side.

That, and the unvoiced rivalry between Christian’s coachmen and their two coachmen had, more than anything else, contributed to their remarkable pace. They’d left London within an hour of Ben revealing all; now, not even twenty-four hours later, they were nearing their goal.

Madeline saw a familiar landmark flash past. “We’re nearly into Helston.” Looking across the rocking carriage, she met Gervase’s eyes. “Where should we head first?”

His lips curved, more in reassurance than a smile. “I told the two maniacs up top to go straight to the Park. They know the way.”

She nodded and looked out of the window again, conscious of a strange urgency building-to reach home, to confirm that Harry and Edmond were there, unharmed, that no action had taken place while they were away. An underlying itch to make sure all in her domain, all those she cared for and thought of as in her keeping, were safe, that everything was as it should be.

That the unknown traitor hadn’t already made some move.

As usual, Gervase seemed to read her mind. “Our villain might arrive before us, but he won’t escape us, not this time. He’ll go down to Kynance Cove, and we’ll trap him there.”

She searched his eyes, darkly amber in the carriage. “Do you think the curricle ahead of us is him?”

Gervase nodded. “It seems likely.” They’d questioned the ostlers at the posting inns they’d stopped at; once out of London, as they’d traveled through the night it became clear there was a curricle ahead of them, flying through the dark. Only one occupant, unfailingly described as a dark-haired tonnish gentleman, but not one anyone recognized enough to put a name to.

Not many people chanced the roads-even the highways-at night, not at the speed they were risking. Gervase continued, “He had at least two hours’, possibly more, head start, and he’s driving a curricle with four in hand-much lighter and faster than us. He would have reached the peninsula this morning, but even if he goes straight to Kynance and starts searching, as there’s nothing there to find and it’s a good-sized beach, he’ll still be searching later today-when we get there to capture him.”

Madeline frowned. “He’s not going to be searching alone. One look at Kynance-Ben said he simply told him that beach-and he’s going to realize he’ll need help.” She caught Gervase’s eyes. “He’ll have others there-who will he recruit?”

“I don’t know, but it’s possible he already has men in the area he can call on, like the two who lured Ben away. He usually plans carefully, and he’s extremely cautious. He’s had to be to keep out of Dalziel’s clutches.”

She humphed. “Your ex-commander called this traitor ‘fixated’-I can think of one other who seems rather ‘fixated.’”

“True, but Dalziel has been after this man for years, and for the last six months, in between tying up all the other loose ends left after the war, he’s been almost exclusively trying to hunt him down. It won’t sit well with Dalziel-or, indeed, with us, the seven of us-to have to let this last traitor slip through our fingers, not now we know he’s real.”

He paused, then added, “Even more so now that we know he was paid with a cargo of items such as your brooch. Dalziel mentioned there were over thirty similar items the French have so far identified as having gone missing in the same odd manner. With every piece ranking as priceless, their total value is rather more than a fortune. Given what he must have traded to be deemed worth such a price…” His face hardened. “It’s not only Dalziel who wants to see him hang.”

Hearing his tone, Gervase glanced at Ben, and was relieved to see he was still dozing. No need for him to become fearful in retrospect; he’d come through his ordeal without noticeable harm, the only indication that he’d been deeply afraid being the way he kept a tight grip on Madeline’s hand.

The carriage slowed, then came the sudden clatter of the wheels on cobbles.

“Helston.” Madeline looked out at the familiar facades slipping past.

Ben stirred, then pushed up, sat up. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, then looked about brightly. “Nearly home.”

Madeline smiled. Reaching out, she tousled his hair, then with her fingers combed it into place. “Yes. Nearly there.”

They cut straight through the town, then continued south on the road that ran down the peninsula to Lizard Point. Two miles out of Helston, the carriage veered east, onto the road to Coverack.

Half an hour later, the carriage swept through the open gates of the Park and bowled up the long drive.

They pulled up in the forecourt with much crunching of gravel and stamping of hooves. Ben was poised at the carriage door, ready to leap out; the instant the carriage rocked to a halt, he swung the door open and did.

Shifting along the seat to follow him, Madeline looked out.

Grooms had come running around the house; behind them, she saw Harry, followed by Charles, appear on the front porch.

Both paused, saw Ben chattering to the grooms and the coachmen. Madeline smiled, waiting to see the tension that held Harry and Charles ease… It didn’t. Faces grim, they stepped down from the porch and came striding to the carriages, Harry in the lead.

“Something’s wrong.” A species of dread clutched at her-but she could see Harry, hale and whole, and Ben was dancing with exuberance.

Gervase glanced out, then gently moved her back. He stepped out of the carriage, then handed her down.

She looked up as Harry reached them. “What is it?”

Harry looked tortured, but entirely unharmed. He shot a helpless glance at Gervase, then met her eyes. “They’ve taken Edmond.”

What? She couldn’t even get the word out; panic strangled her.

Dalziel and Christian had come to join them. “Who’s Edmond?” Dalziel demanded.

Harry blinked, then replied, “My brother.”

“A year younger than Harry.” Madeline snapped out of her panic; Gervase’s fingers had closed around hers, hard, firm, reminding her she had no time to panic. “How? He was supposed to be here, safe at home.”

Charles grimaced; he looked unusually somber. “We’ve only just got the news ourselves. Come inside, and we can all hear the tale.”

He drew Harry back, collected Ben with a gesture. “You must be Ben.”

As ever curious, Ben fell in beside Harry, waiting to be introduced.

Madeline tried to draw in a breath past the vise clamped about her lungs. Her head was reeling.

Gervase wound her arm in his and leaned close. “It will be all right. We got Ben back-we’ll get Edmond back, too.”

Filling her lungs, she lifted her head. She glanced at Christian and Dalziel, both of whom stood waiting for her to precede them, sensed more than saw their nods of agreement, their commitment to that cause.

She was definitely not alone. Head rising a fraction more, she nodded. “Indeed. Let’s go in.”

In the front hall, they discovered a small crowd gathered about two men-Crimms, the boys’ groom, and Abel Griggs-both propped on straightbacked chairs and being tended by a bevy of helpers; Milsom and Ada were there, with two maids and a footman.

Muriel, a shawl clutched about her thin shoulders, was overseeing. “Keep that compress on, Abel Griggs, or you won’t be able to see out of that eye come sundown.”

Abel grumbled, but did as he was bid. It was instantly apparent both men had been beaten; Abel had a huge knot on his forehead and a black eye, while Crimms looked faint, wan and bruised all over, his livery dusty and torn.

Appalled, Madeline stared. She couldn’t imagine how Abel Griggs came to be in her front hall, much less in such a state. She looked at Harry, then at Charles, who was looking decidedly grim. “What happened?”

Charles replied, his accents clipped, “They were set upon and beaten-both were coshed and left unconscious on the road. However…” Pausing, he drew a deep breath. “To start at the beginning…Harry and I remained keeping watch at the beach.” He looked at Gervase. “Penny’s at the castle with the dogs-she was to send word if she heard anything that might be part of this.”

Gervase nodded. Charles went on, “This morning Harry and Edmond pointed out that our position wasn’t strong if the villain came in by sea-he’d have the beach before we could reach him, and at night we might not even see him. We also couldn’t hold all our men permanently at the beach-we discussed reinforcements. The boys suggested-and I concurred-that it would be wise to notify the local smugglers, not only to ask if they’d be willing to swell our numbers, but also to make sure they didn’t get drawn into the villain’s game on the wrong side.”

“Sound reasoning,” Gervase said. “I assume that’s why Abel’s here?”

Charles nodded. “Edmond offered to ride to Helston and explain-he knew Griggs and where to find him. I sent Crimms with Edmond, of course.” Charles eyed Abel Griggs. “All I’ve gathered so far is that they were set upon while riding back, and their attackers took Edmond.”

Gervase glanced at Crimms; the groom was barely conscious. He transferred his gaze to Abel, who was squinting at him from under the compress. “So what happened, Abel? Edmond reached you?”

Abel nodded. “Aye-he did. He told me the story, that there might be some action around Lowland Point, and asked could we help. He told me you”-he nodded at Gervase-“and some friends of yours were in on it, and it weren’t nothing rum but could be a bit of liveliness.”

He shrugged. “Me and the boys have been quiet for some time-since the end of the war there ain’t been much cause for us to launch the boats. Seemed like this lark young Edmond spoke of might be an excuse to get our keels wet again. So I sent word to the boys, and was riding back with young Edmond and Crimms here, when we was set on.”

“Where?” Gervase asked.

“Just outside Helston.” Abel’s one good eye got a distant look. “A curricle went whizzing past-we pulled to the side to let it go through. A gentleman all muffled up and a lady in a cloak-didn’t reckernize either of ’em, but they was both quality, sure as eggs. Left us in their dust, they did, then we rode on. ’Bout ten minutes later we reached the junction of the road down to Lizard and the road coming this way, and a group of men leapt out from the ditch and from behind the hedge there. Some had cudgels. They pulled us from our horses. We fought, but there were at least six of ’em-too many. Left me and Crimms for dead, they did. But it was Edmond they wanted.”

Abel glanced at Madeline, standing between Muriel and Harry with Ben clutched before her. “Didn’t hurt him or nothing-just dragged him off.”

“Any idea where to?” Charles asked.

Abel turned his good eye to the men. “That’s just it-stap me if that curricle, with the gentleman and lady in it, wasn’t waiting further down the road to the Lizard. The bastards-beggin’ your pardon, ladies-looked to be dragging Edmond to the curricle, then one of them saw me looking, and hit me again.” He pressed the compress to the knot on his forehead. “That’s the last I remember.”

Madeline stirred. She looked at Milsom. “Milsom, please fetch some brandy for Mr. Griggs and Crimms.”

Abel inclined his head. “Thank ye kindly, ma’am.” He glanced at Gervase. “Once we came to our senses, Crimms and me, we managed to grab our horses, and thought it best we come on here to report what had happened.”

Gervase nodded. “A good thing you did.” He glanced at Crimms, who still looked exceedingly seedy, then at Madeline. “Perhaps we should go into the drawing room to confer.”

She blinked, nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Abel-if you’re up to it, I’d like you to join us.” Gervase looked at the groom. “I suggest Crimms should lie down for a while.”

“I’ll see to it, my lord.” Milsom took charge of Crimms, leaving the footman to help Abel into the drawing room.

Changing venue gave everyone a moment to regroup. Madeline sank onto the chaise, Muriel beside her, Ben pressed tight on her other side. Harry perched on the side of the chaise, close at hand.

Her wits were still reeling, trying to fit the events into some sensible, understandable picture, but panic, thank Heaven, was effectively held at bay-by Gervase, sitting in an armchair nearby, and his three friends, who pulled up chairs and settled in a large, intent group.

Entirely focused on getting Edmond back, safe and unharmed. They and their concentration were a reassuring sight.

Dalziel looked at Abel as he eased carefully onto a straightbacked chair. “The men who attacked you-were they locals?”

Abel shook his head. “Definitely not from anywheres ’round here. Not Falmouth, nor even Plymouth.” He frowned. “If I had to guess, I’d say they was Londoners.” He squinted at Dalziel. “Been some time since I’ve been there, but that’s how they sounded. Rough-and-ready customers, a bit more dangerous than the usual tavern thugs.”

The men all frowned. Gervase shifted, attracting Abel’s attention. “You said you sent word to your boys-what did you tell them?”

Abel grinned. “Told them to get the boats and come in to Castle Cove. Figured if you was truly in on this, that’s where we’d start from-easier to put in there than anywhere around here…and truth to tell, I wanted to check that it was as young Edmond said, and all was on the up and up with you. Youngsters sometimes get carried away, as well I know.”

Despite her underlying antipathy to the old reprobate-she could hardly approve of the leader of the biggest band of smugglers in the area-Madeline found herself smiling understandingly, albeit weakly.

Dalziel caught Gervase’s eye. “Your ground.”

Gervase glanced at Madeline, met her eye for a reassuring instant, then glanced at the men-his three friends and Abel Griggs. To Abel he said, “We chased a gentleman we believe to be a traitor we’ve had in our sights before, the same man we believe kidnapped Ben, back here-he would have arrived this morning, driving a curricle.”

Abel’s lined face grew grim. “A traitor, you say?”

Gervase nodded. “He was headed for Kynance Cove-”

“Kynance!” Harry looked at Ben. “You told him Kynance?”

Ben nodded. “I didn’t want him running into anyone-not you and Ed”-he looked at Abel-“or your men, either. So I sent him and his bad men to Kynance Cove.”

Abel’s eyes had grown round. “I thank you for the thought, young Ben, but…” He looked at Gervase. “Kynance ain’t exactly deserted, you know.”

Gervase nodded again, lips thin. “So our villain-it had to be he you saw in that curricle-pauses to pick up some lady. Why we don’t know, who we don’t know. Did you see anything of her-hair color, gown?”

Abel shook his head. “Had the hood of her cloak up. Couldn’t even tell if she was tall or short.”

Gervase grimaced. “Let’s leave the lady for the moment. Our man reaches the peninsula-he must have alerted his followers, somehow sent them ahead so they were on the road to Kynance. He raced down to join them, and so passed you, Crimms and Edmond.”

Gervase’s eyes narrowed. “He recognized Edmond. He already knew-or thought he knew-that his cargo was buried somewhere on the beach at Kynance Cove, but he hadn’t brought Ben back with him, because Ben was his pawn to keep us in London. But suddenly there was Edmond, who would also know where the brooch had been found.”

He glanced at the others. “Remember, he doesn’t know we’re so close behind him. He’ll imagine he has at least twenty-four if not more clear hours to find his cargo and leave the area without any real risk of being caught.”

“Edmond won’t tell him anything,” Harry said. The worry in his voice rang clearly.

Gervase met his gaze, then glanced at Madeline. “I think, when Edmond realizes the man is heading to Kynance, and thinks the cargo is there-”

“Ed’ll know I lied,” Ben piped up. He glanced at Harry. “He’ll guess-the man’s heading in the wrong direction. The man’ll take Ed to Kynance, and ask where we found the brooch.”

Harry stared at Ben, then looked at Gervase. “Ed’ll say we found it in the middle-that way they’ll have to search up and down the whole cove.”

Gervase raised his brows; he nodded slowly. “All right-let’s say that’s what happens. Our villain will keep Edmond while his men search-he’ll keep him until his cargo’s found. Edmond is now his hostage in a way-he won’t harm him.”

“No.” Dalziel caught Madeline’s eyes. “Harming the boy won’t figure in his plans. Even if Edmond sees his face, from what we’ve learned from others there’s nothing to distinguish him from countless other gentlemen, so that won’t place Edmond at greater risk. Our man is too fly to unnecessarily commit murder.” He looked at Gervase. “So at this moment we have our villainous friend and Edmond at Kynance Cove, and he’ll be busy searching there long enough for us to capture him. How do we accomplish that?”

Everyone was nodding in agreement.

“Maps?” Charles raised a brow at Harry.

“I’ll get them.” Harry rose and left.

Madeline hugged Ben closer. He looked up at her and grinned. “Ed’ll be all right-you’ll see. Gervase and the others will get him back.”

The confidence shining in Ben’s big eyes made Madeline smile, and surreptitiously blink.

Harry arrived with the maps. The men pulled a table to the center of the floor and stood around it, Gervase tracing the roads, pointing out the Park, the castle and Kynance Cove. “This is the place, but the cliffs are all but barren-totally devoid of cover. They’ll be able to see us approaching from miles away, so that’s not an option.”

Dalziel frowned. “But they’ll be down in the cove searching and they don’t know we’re coming-will they think to post lookouts?”

“No question of lookouts at the moment,” Abel put in, “nor of them being down on the sands.”

They all turned to stare at him. He blinked, then looked at Gervase. “Tide’s in. Kynance beach will be under water for the rest of the day-no way to search until the waves draw back, and they won’t until after sunset.”

“So they’ll be up on the cliffs, looking down, unable to search?” Christian asked.

Abel nodded.

Silence fell; the men exchanged glances, rejigging their ideas.

“He won’t wait.” Dalziel shook his head. “He’ll search at night. Waiting even until first light will cut his time too short-he won’t risk anyone catching up with him. And the longer he stays in the area, the greater the risk someone will notice, and he’ll instantly see that being at the very tip of the Lizard Peninsula, in that cove, is a trap of sorts just waiting to be sprung.”

“We can certainly seal the area off,” Charles said, studying the map anew. “If we put men on the road up from Lizard Point, he’ll drive right into their arms.”

“Especially as he won’t know they’re there,” Christian said.

Madeline noticed that Dalziel was not so much pacing as circling, a panther deciding when and how to spring. Gervase, on the other hand, had grown still, but it was an intense stillness she now recognized as ruthlessly contained tension. Like her, he was quivering to be off, to do, but he knew how to control the impulse to action, how to manage it.

Evenly she said, “If they can’t go down to the cove, but will as soon as the tide retreats, then they’ll be waiting on the cliffs-they’ll be able to see us when we’re literally miles away, and have plenty of time to…react.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Edmond will be in too much danger, of being whisked away at the very least, if we try to surround them now, while it’s daylight.”

The men all looked at her, all considered. None argued.

“We need a plan.” Dalziel flung himself into his chair. “Let’s assume he waits with his little band on the cliffs until the tide turns and it’s night, then he goes down, taking Edmond with him, and they start searching-that’s when we close in. So”-he looked up at Gervase-“how do we do that?”

The others resumed their seats, all except Charles, studying the map. Muriel touched Madeline’s sleeve, whispered she was going to check on Crimms, and left. Madeline listened as the men tossed around options-the men they could muster, how best to split them up, how best to converge on the cove-

Abel coughed, and caught Gervase’s eye. “One problem you ain’t taking into account.” Gervase raised a brow; Abel continued, “It’ll be a wreckers’ moon tonight.”

Gervase stared at him, then softly swore, surged to his feet and went to look out of the bow window, searching the western sky. “He’s right. The wind’s turned and there’s a storm blowing in.”

“Aye-the clouds will cover the moon, and the wind’s in the right quarter to blow ships onto the reef off Kynance.” Abel grimaced. “And as they’ve had no chance yet this season, no question but that that crew, whoever they be, will be out there tonight, setting false beacons on the headlands, doing their damnedest to lure some poor unsuspecting captain in. Which’ll mean they’ll be up on the cliffs themselves tonight.” Abel looked at Dalziel. “I don’t care how many London bully boys your man has with him, he’ll not get anywhere near Kynance once the sun goes down.”

Christian raised his brows. “Can we leave it to the wreckers to keep him from the cove?”

“No.” Dalziel’s voice was flat and cold. “He’ll recruit them. He’s never been slow to use others. He’ll offer them sure cash, and all they’ll have to do for it will be to join his men and search-not even chance their regular work.”

Abel slowly nodded. “Not that I know any of ’em, mind, but I’ve heard it said that if you offer them hard coin, they’ll kill their own mother.”

Madeline felt chilled. All she could think of was that Edmond was in the thick of that… Her eyes widened. Horror slid icy fingers down her spine. “Edmond will recognize the wreckers-he’ll know who they are.” She looked at Gervase. “They’ll kill him.”

Gervase held her gaze. “They won’t get a chance to-we’ll get there before the traitor leaves. Until he finds his cargo and departs the scene, Edmond is safe. Once he leaves, Edmond won’t be, but as our villain’s not going to find his cargo in Kynance Cove, Edmond will be there when we go in to rescue him.”

The evenly voiced statement had her blinking, had her incipient panic subsiding like a pricked balloon. She swallowed, nodded-felt calmer. Enough to smile reassuringly at Ben and Harry when they looked to her for confirmation.

Thank God for Gervase.

She hugged Ben to her, and repeated the words in her head.

“How many of them are there-these wreckers?” Dalziel, narrow-eyed, looked at Abel.

He shrugged, glanced at Gervase. “Ten, maybe. No more.” As if in explanation, he added, “They’re landlubbers, you know-the lot of ’em-while smugglers are all sailors. There’ve never been that many wreckers, or the rest of us would know, but they’ve always been vicious about secrecy, so no one’s ever been certain who is and who ain’t, and no real way to tell, not in these parts. Only thing we do know is that their favorite cove these last years has been Kynance.”

Dalziel nodded. “How many nonlocals has our villain gathered?”

They tossed around numbers, and settled on less than ten.

Dalziel looked at Gervase. “How many men can we muster?”

The answer was in the thirties. “Possibly more, depending on what I find when we reach the castle.” Gervase caught Dalziel’s gaze. “I assume you’re suggesting a little local housekeeping while we’re dealing with our fine traitor?”

Dalziel shrugged. “If fate is steering us in that direction, then I for one say we shouldn’t fight the current. There’s more than one villain in our world.”

The others murmured agreement.

Madeline sat, hands clasped around Ben’s, with him leaning against her, and listened while they discussed and planned how they would put paid to the local wreckers, overcome the imported ruffians and capture the man who had kidnapped Ben, and now Edmond-at the same time keeping Edmond safe.

While she saw nothing to argue with in the plans that slowly took shape, there was one thing-one aspect-they’d overlooked.

“So”-Dalziel looked down at the map around which they’d all again gathered, Abel included; Gervase had just finished explaining the terrain of the clifftops, confirming that approaching undetected over land was impossible-“we’ll have to walk into the cove around the shoreline.”

“Can’t.” Gervase shook his head. “The way’s impassable at several points.”

Dalziel looked at him, then raised his brows. “How, then?”

Gervase looked across the table at Abel. “We go in by sea.”

Abel grinned, a startlingly ferocious sight. “Aye-there’ll be a small fleet putting into Castle Cove soon enough.”

They transferred their headquarters to the castle. Gervase and Madeline went ahead on horseback, leaving the others to follow in a procession of carriages. They left Harry and Ben at the Park; Ben had had enough excitement for the moment, and Harry accepted that he had to remain in case the men left as a token force at Lowland Point needed further direction.

Side by side, Gervase and Madeline clattered into the castle forecourt and dismounted. Before they reached the top of the castle steps, Belinda, Annabel and Jane rushed out.

Eyes wide, they grabbed Gervase. “You have to come and see!” Jane tugged him forward.

“There’s boats-lots of them-coming into the cove,” Belinda informed him.

“The sailors look rough-are they smugglers?” Annabel demanded.

Gervase raised his hands, palms out. “Yes, I know.” He looked at Annabel. “And yes, they’re local smugglers.”

“Really?” Belinda’s eyes grew huge. She turned back into the house. “How exciting!”

Annabel said nothing, just followed, the same look of fascination on her face.

“Maybe if we ask nicely they’ll take us for a sail.” Releasing Gervase, Jane ran after her sisters.

Gervase stared at their retreating backs, then looked at Madeline.

She met his gaze, read the mute appeal therein. Lips lifting, she patted his arm. “I’ll go and speak with Sybil, and your sisters as well. You’d best get down to the cove.”

“Thank you.” His relief was heartfelt; it rang in his tone.

Raising her hand, he brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then left her, striding back down the steps and heading for the ramparts. Madeline watched him go, then went into the house.

She found Sybil in the drawing room with Penny. The girls were ranged before their mother, seated on the chaise, asking permission to go down to the cove.

“Madeline!” Sybil turned to her with relief. “What is this about smugglers taking over the cove-do you know?”

“The biggest local smuggling gang have just brought their boats into the cove, but girls?” She waited until all three girls looked her way. “I’m afraid we’ve a very serious situation on our hands.”

She told them the story; Sybil, Penny and the three girls all listened with rapt attention, exclaiming here, horrified there, relieved at the last when she told them that the gentlemen were planning to rescue Edmond that evening.

When she finished, the girls, now sober and quiet, exchanged glances, then looked at her. “We’ll behave, we promise-you and Gervase have enough to worry about without us teasing you.”

She smiled, feeling the gesture go rather wobbly. “We’d both appreciate it-tonight is going to be difficult.”

She rose, intending to go and find Gervase, to see what he was doing.

Penny rose, too. “I should find my husband-I’m certain I heard his voice some time ago, and the dogs have been too quiet, which means they’re probably out with him.”

They left the drawing room together; behind them, Sybil called Sitwell in to ask about their unexpected guests and give the necessary orders.

Madeline waved to the door at the back of the hall. “Let’s go up to the east battlements-they give an excellent view out over the cove.”

They climbed the stairs, then went out onto the windswept battlements. Giving up her hair as a lost cause, Madeline walked to the raised stone walls and looked out. “There.” She pointed to where, far below, a small fleet of rowing boats bobbed on the waves. Then she noticed the doors of the castle boathouse were open. “They’re lowering the castle’s boats, too.”

Penny and she watched as first one boat, then another was swung out on the boom and lowered into the water. Gervase and Charles were manning the winch; two of the men helping jumped down into each boat, sat, took up the oars and rowed the boats across the cove to join the others by the castle watersteps.

Madeline counted the seats. “They can carry…eighteen, not counting the oarsmen, who’ll have to stay with the boats.”

Penny leaned on the wall beside her. “How many villains will there be on the beach-Londoners plus wreckers?”

“They’re not sure, but perhaps as many as twenty.”

“But some of those will be on the cliffs.”

“Two lookouts, at most.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “We can send more men by land, but the odds for the assault on the beach-as they’re terming it-aren’t that good. Those who go by land won’t be able to reach the cove in time to be of any help there.” She looked out for a moment more, then, lips setting, turned away. “It’ll be hand-to-hand fighting on the beach.”

Penny glanced at her, then followed her down the stairs. “I know it’s easier to say than do, but don’t worry. I’ve seen the Bastion Club members in action, and of one thing you may be certain-one way or another they’ll win.”

Madeline nodded. She hoped they would, but after nearly losing one brother to the murky underworld of London, she wasn’t about to remain quietly at home while the members of the Bastion Club rode like white knights to the rescue. No matter what they thought-no matter what Gervase thought-she knew where her place should be.

She bided her time; she needed to catch Gervase alone, but not in a corridor or abovestairs-somewhere they could speak privately yet in a formal setting.

The men spent the next several hours getting their arrangements in place. Gervase’s library-cum-study became the hub of all activity; she joined the group there, expecting her customary malelike status to allow her to be an unnoticed observer, but unfortunately Christian, Charles and Dalziel saw her clearly as a female-more, as a lady-and behaved accordingly.

They were very aware she was there, that she was listening.

As for Gervase, his view of her had radically altered; he certainly didn’t view her as he once had. Although subsumed beneath the unexpected rush of action, their evolving link, the sexual and emotional connection between them, hadn’t waned in the least; the curious hiatus-where he wanted to marry her while she simply didn’t know-was still there, like a caught breath, as if they were poised on some emotional edge, waiting to see, to learn, which way they would fall.

Because of that she accepted she had to tread warily, carefully, with him.

The door opened and Charles strode back in; Penny slipped in on his heels. “None of our scouts sighted the curricle.” Charles had gone out to the forecourt to confer with three grooms they’d sent across the fields and along the cliffs, as if they, local lads all, were simply enjoying a ride. “No sign of any unusual activity along the cliffs above Kynance Cove.”

Gervase grimaced and looked down at the detailed map spread over his desk. “Lizard Village is small, but there are numerous scattered farmhouses, cottages and, even more useful, barns in that area-they could easily have taken over one or more.”

“He’s certainly clever enough to get out of sight while he’s waiting for the tide to turn.” Dalziel was once again circling. “I suggest we resist the temptation to search further. The last thing we want is to let him know we’re here, preparing to pounce.”

Pausing, he met Gervase’s eye, then glanced at Charles and Christian. “This may well be our last and best chance to catch this blackguard-we know he’ll be in that cove tonight. We should focus on taking him then. If he learns we’re near, in the neighborhood, despite his desire for his cargo his instinct for self-preservation might yet be strong enough to make him bolt.”

The others nodded.

Madeline opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Gervase added, “And he does have Edmond.”

Dalziel nodded, reassuringly grim. “Indeed.”

Penny joined Madeline by the side of the room; together, they listened-Madeline suspected both of them critically-while the final dispositions were made. As well as Gervase and this three friends, Abel was there, along with Gervase’s head stableman, one of Abel’s brothers, Gregson the bailiff, and a selection of others.

Christian wasn’t especially at home on the waves; he was the obvious choice to command their land forces-the small band of grooms, farmers, gardeners and laborers they’d assembled.

“So we block the road here.” Leaning over the map, Christian put his finger on a particular spot. Craning past the various shoulders, Madeline saw he’d indicated a place just south of Cross Lanes.

“There’s a curve and a dip,” Gervase said. “He’ll be on the downward slope heading toward you by the time he sees you.”

Christian nodded. “I’ll station enough men there to stop a curricle as soon as we get there, just in case for some reason he gets the wind up and flees early, but assuming he’ll be on the beach at least until you make your move, I’ll take the rest of the men and scout around. It might be wise, given the area we’re trying to secure, to make sure there are no horses available for him to commandeer, in case he gets away from us at the beach.”

Dalziel nodded curtly. “We take all possible precautions.” He studied the map, then grimaced. “As you so rightly point out, the area is big-any net we fashion will necessarily have big holes. If he slips past us at the cove and doesn’t take his curricle, it’s not going to be easy to prevent him escaping.”

“But this,” Gervase said, “is the best we can do.”

The others nodded.

“So”-Gervase looked at Charles-“to the action on the beach.”

He and Charles had the most experience with smugglers and skirmishes, if not outright battles, on beaches, waged from the sea.

Charles wrinkled his nose. “I can’t see any point in carrying pistols, can you?”

Gervase shook his head. “Too wet, not terribly useful at such close quarters given how confused it’s bound to be, and not useful enough given the numbers we’ll face.”

“Unlikely any of them will be carrying pistols either.” Charles grinned, a distinctly anticipatory wolfish expression. “So it’s blades-swords, cutlasses, daggers.”

Both Abel and his brother were nodding.

Gervase glanced at them. “There’s a small armory here. I’m assuming your men will have their own weapons, but we can make sure everyone in the boats is well equipped.”

“Aye,” Abel said. “We might need a few extra blades, just to cover things.”

“Right.” Dalziel shifted. “Now for the timing.”

Madeline noted the puzzled glances Christian, Charles and Gervase threw him-and the subsequent flick of their eyes to her and Penny-before they followed their ex-commander’s lead.

She narrowed her eyes. They weren’t going to discuss the details of the assault on the beach in front of her and Penny.

Beside her Penny humphed, obviously having come to the same conclusion. Glancing at her, Madeline saw Penny’s gaze boring into her husband; she intended getting the details from him later.

Madeline looked at Gervase, considered, then she arched a brow at Penny. “I think I’ll go and organize with Sybil to have dinner brought forward. Coming?”

Bending a distinctly jaundiced look at the males gathered about the desk, Penny sniffed. “I may as well.”

They left the room on their appropriately ladylike mission, but once the early dinner had been organized, Madeline slipped back into the library, this time alone. She drifted to the far end of the room and stood looking out, plainly not attempting to overhear the men’s plans.

She didn’t need to hear them; she was more than capable of planning herself.

Sitwell arrived to announce the cold collation laid out in the dining room for the gentry, and the kitchen for everyone else. The others drifted out. She waited, knowing Gervase wouldn’t leave the room without her… What she hadn’t counted on was his ex-commander’s irritating insight.

Dalziel didn’t leave either. When all the others had gone, he stood by the desk with Gervase-both of them with their gazes trained on her.

Patiently waiting to escort her to the dining room.

Lips thinning, she walked back up the room toward them. If Dalziel thought to, by his presence, prevent her input into their plans, he would need to think again.

It was his dark gaze she held in the instant she halted before the desk, then she turned and met Gervase’s amber eyes across the map. “I’ll be in the boats going to the cove, too.”

Gervase’s eyes, his face, hardened. “No. You need to stay here.”

She raised both brows, her gaze steady on his. “You don’t rule me.” She flicked a glance at Dalziel. “And neither do you.” She looked again at Gervase. “If I ask Abel to take me, he will. He can’t afford to antagonize me, and all in all, I don’t think he’ll think my request unreasonable-” Gervase opened his mouth to protest-she silenced him with an upraised hand and a tight smile. “Once he hears my reasons.”

Lips compressed, Gervase studied her. He flicked a glance at Dalziel, standing silent and still a pace to her right, then looked back at her and asked, “What reasons?”

She inwardly smiled, knowing her battle won, but she allowed nothing beyond calm certainty to color her tone. “Let’s consider your plan for rescuing Edmond. You’ll have the boats ease close, but remain far enough back so they aren’t sighted by those on the beach. One boat will slide in close to the point itself, where the water’s shallower, and you and Dalziel will go over the side and wade to shore-unlikely any men at the center of the beach will see you at night. You’ll be well out of the range of any flares. While Dalziel goes after the traitor, you”-with her head she indicated Gervase-“will find and release Edmond-we assume he’s restrained in some way, but it will be too dangerous to leave him trussed up while a fight rages about him.”

She paused, and cocked a brow at Gervase. “Have I guessed all that correctly?”

Grim-faced, he nodded.

“Very well. To continue, Charles, remaining with the boats, will give you two however many minutes to-what’s the phrase?-achieve your objectives? Then he’ll bring the boats in and a fight will erupt all along the beach. During that fight, your specific task will be to protect Edmond. You’ll order him to stay behind you, and stand guard as it were over him.” She held Gervase’s eyes. “That’s what you’re planning to do, isn’t it?”

His eyes cut to Dalziel before he met her gaze. “That’s the gist of it.”

Neither could see where she was leading them, what hole in their plans she’d discovered and was about to point out. She could sense unease coming from both of them.

She smiled, not smugly but-she couldn’t help it-a touch patronizingly. “While you’re defending him, who will be restraining Edmond?”

Gervase frowned. “I’ll order him to stay back. He’ll-”

“Listen?” Incredulity oozed from the word. “Please remember you’re talking about a fourteen-year-old boy-no, let me rephrase that more accurately-a fourteen-year-old male Gascoigne -who after being seized by a villain and his rough-and-ready henchmen finds himself in the thick of a pitched battle between the forces of good and evil, on a beach, with smugglers on his side, swords and knives flashing in the dead of night.” Her voice had risen slightly, her diction hard and precise; she pinned Gervase, then turned to subject Dalziel to her gaze. “Do you seriously imagine he’ll meekly stand back, watch, and not join in?”

They stared at her, speechless. Unable to answer, because she was right.

Satisfied, she drove home her point. “The instant he sees anyone he knows threatened, he’ll dash in to help. Armed or not.” She paused, then added, “Regardless of any injunction or prohibition you think to make, however forcefully.”

Silence fell. Gervase’s expression was stony, his eyes flat agate, impossible to read.

“Will he listen to you?” The quiet question came from Dalziel.

She met his eyes. And smiled thinly. “Oh, yes. You may be absolutely certain he’ll listen to me. And obey me. He’s been doing that for all of his life, and he knows there are instances when obedience is not negotiable. He’ll do as I say.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Gervase’s lips twist, but when she faced him his expression was as unrelentingly impassive as ever. How, in light of that, she knew he was to the bone opposed to her going onto the beach she couldn’t say, but she was. His opinion reached her clearly, without the need for words.

Dalziel turned; he walked a few paces away from her. “When you’re on the beach, you’ll need to be able to defend yourself-and Edmond, at least to some degree.”

He turned back, and she saw he now held two light swords; she looked up and confirmed they were the pair usually crossed over the mantelpiece. Gervase must have taken them down-one for Dalziel, one for himself.

Both swords were unsheathed. Dalziel hefted them lightly in his hands-then tossed one, hilt first, to Madeline.

She reacted without thinking, deftly plucking it out of the air, her fingers and hand sliding with familiar ease into the hilt.

It was Dalziel who blinked.

But then he waved her away from the desk with the sword he held. “For instance, what are you going to do if…”

He swung at her, not with force but with the transparent intention of disarming her. Habit again came to her aid; she whipped her blade up and blocked.

And had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen.

He disengaged with a twist and came at her again, but this time she was prepared; grabbing up her skirts, she sidestepped, slammed her blade down across his, forcing it to the side, low. The unexpected move unbalanced him; before he could recover she stepped inside his guard, lifted one slippered foot and jabbed sharply at the outside of his knee.

His leg buckled.

Flailing wildly, he fought to right himself. Ducking his arm, twisting out of his reach, she kicked a small footstool behind him, then shoved hard at one shoulder.

The look on his face as he went down was pure magic.

Even better was the look in his eyes as, flat on his back, he stared up the long length of her sword, from the tip she pressed into his neat cravat to her hand, steady on the hilt.

Eventually, eyes narrowing, he lifted his gaze to her face.

She smiled. Openly smug. “I have three brothers. I don’t fight fair.”

He didn’t blink. “You’ve been trained.”

She raised her brows. “Well, of course. Did you think only men could wield swords?”

He was clever enough to make no reply. She let her smile soften, lifted the sword’s tip from his throat. “My father taught me, then had me taught, so I could later teach my brothers, then have them taught.”

Raising the sword, she studied it, then looked at Gervase. He’d said nothing throughout-hadn’t moved an inch-yet she’d been conscious of the explosive tension that had gripped him the instant Dalziel had “threatened” her.

She met his gaze, then tossed the sword to him. “I have my own weapons-I had them brought from the Park.” She looked at Dalziel, but it was to Gervase she spoke. “You needn’t worry about me on the beach-any locals there will recognize me, the others at the very least will know me for a woman, and just as you did, they’ll underestimate me. They won’t strike hard-they’ll imagine I’ll be easy to disarm. But underestimating women is never wise.”

Stepping around Dalziel, she headed for the door.

Behind her Gervase shifted. “We’ll have to wade through surf waist-high or deeper-”

“You needn’t worry.” At the door, she turned and met his eyes. “I won’t be wearing skirts.”

With that final decisive declaration, she opened the door and went out.

Gervase stared at the partly open door, remembered the early dinner waiting for them. He looked down at Dalziel. His erstwhile commander slowly sat up; draping his arms over his bent knees, he looked disgustedly at the footstool.

Despite all-the seriousness of the situation, the sheer horror he felt over Madeline having inserted herself into the thick of their planned action and in a way that left him with no viable arguments-he felt his lips twitch.

He rapidly straightened them as Dalziel lifted his gaze, eyes narrowed, to his face.

“If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll deny it.”

Gervase couldn’t help it; he grinned. “The memory will be its own reward.”