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 whe
re 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.”