Her eyes narrowed as she searched his. “It must be some time since you sailed with any of them.”
“On a run? More than a decade.” He hesitated, then admitted, “But I had other, more recent reasons for keeping those contacts alive. I know all the leaders along this stretch of coast, and they will all talk, and listen, to me.”
He watched her put two and two together, and come up with a revealing answer. Over the years he’d been away “fighting Boney,” he’d reappeared now and then, when his father had died, and Christopher, and later his uncle, and then again to install Sybil and his sisters at the castle, and put his agents and stewards in charge of the estate.
Her eyes widened; her lips formed a soundless “Oh.” Refocusing on his face, she hesitated for an instant more, then nodded. “If it’s no trouble…I would like to know that they don’t need to fear anything from that direction.” Meeting his eyes, she grimaced. “While I would much rather they didn’t get involved in such exploits, I might as well try to hold back the waves.”
“Indeed.” He hadn’t released her fingers. Now he raised them; closing his other palm gently over her hand, he lifted the slender digits to his lips and pressed a light kiss to their backs.
Her eyes went wide; her breathing suspended.
A light blush rose to her cheeks.
He smiled, more intently. He lightly squeezed her fingers, then released them. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything definite about the boys.”
With a nod, he turned and walked out of the front door, entirely content.
Entirely aware that she stood rooted in the hall and stared after him until he disappeared from her sight.
Late that night, Madeline sat before her dressing table brushing out her long hair. The tresses gleamed copper and red in the candlelight, but with her gaze unfocused she didn’t see; as she usually did at this point in her night, she was mentally reviewing the events of her day.
Behind her, her maid Ada shook out her day dress, then headed for the armoire to hang it.
Madeline focused on the maid in the mirror as she returned. “Ada, please mention to the rest of the staff that should they hear anything about the boys associating with any of the smuggling gangs, they should pass the information to me-either through you or Milsom.”
A local, Ada had been with Madeline since before the boys were born. “Aye, well, they’re of that age, true enough. Master Harry and Master Edmond, at least, and no doubt but that Master Ben will inveigle those two into taking him with them.”
Madeline grimaced. “That’s one activity in which I wish Harry and Edmond weren’t quite so good over including Ben.”
“Ah, well, you can’t have everything.” On that stoic note, Ada swept up Madeline’s linen, along with her boots. “I’ll take these downstairs. Will you be wanting anything else tonight?”
“No, thank you. Good night.”
Ada murmured her customary “Sleep well,” and left.
Madeline remained seated before the mirror, drawing the brush slowly through her thick hair. Reliving the rest of her day.
Until she’d turned to farewell him in the front hall, she’d thought she’d managed Gervase and his visit rather well. True, there’d been that moment on the cliffs, but she didn’t think he’d planned that any more than she had. It had simply been, because they were who they were.
Nothing that special or surprising, really. The shared sense of connection had been predictable, had she considered it.
But then he’d understood about her brothers and had offered to help. In the right way-a way she could accept. He hadn’t lectured, nor made pompous suggestions of how to deal with them.
She’d known that in accepting his offer of information she’d be giving him another reason to call and see her privately, yet more disturbing than that, her brothers and their lives were not a matter with which she’d previously allowed others to become involved, but she’d bent if not broken that rule for Gervase.
Because he’d offered something she’d needed. And when it came to her brothers, there was little she wouldn’t do to keep them safe. Or at least safer.
And…
She refocused on her reflection-and pulled a face. Honesty forced her to admit-reluctantly-that, most peculiarly for her, she trusted Gervase, at least on the subject of the boys.
Frowning, she brushed harder, then laid down the brush, gathered her hair and twisted it into a loose knot.
That moment on the cliff-had it swayed her? More likely it had been her noticing how her brothers, usually quite stand-offish when it came to gentlemen, had reacted to Gervase. They’d been curious, intrigued…rather like their sister.
Perhaps it was her recent realization that Harry needed, and Edmond would soon need, some older male to be, if not an acknowledged mentor, then at least a pattern-card. And in that, they could do a lot worse than Gervase Tregarth.
So she’d accepted his help-and then he’d smiled and raised her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers.
She’d felt that light caress to the depths of her being.
Other gentlemen had kissed her hand and she’d felt absolutely nothing. It was a courtesy, one which perhaps they intended to convey more, but never before had the gesture affected her.
When Gervase’s lips had touched her skin…
She stared into the mirror, the moment, the sensations, alive in her mind…until the guttering candle recalled her. Snuffing it, she rose, and went to her bed-telling herself she’d do much better to ban Gervase Tregarth and all his doings from her head.
Two days later, she attended the monthly afternoon tea at the vicarage. Situated just along the lane from the church at Ruan Minor, the rambling house was set in ample grounds; in summer, afternoon tea was served on the back lawn. Muriel had declared she was too tired to attend; the truth was her aunt had little interest in the wider social round.
Passing among the other guests-all the usual local faces-Madeline kept her eyes peeled, but then realized Gervase wasn’t there.
She told herself she was relieved, and embarked upon her customary round of chatting with the other landowners and ladies of the district. The day was warm; she sipped and talked, and forced herself to concentrate on Lady Porthleven’s latest tale of her daughter’s offspring.
“Albert is a veritable jewel,” her ladyship enthused. “Quite the most gifted child!”
Madeline found her mind wandering, yet again. She tried to make herself pay attention, inwardly acknowledging that this-the normal extent of her social life-was, indeed, rather dull.
Excusing herself with a murmured word and a smile, she slipped from Lady Porthleven’s circle. She surveyed the crowd, decided to join Squire Ridley, took one step in his direction-and felt her nerves leap.
She glanced to her side and discovered Gervase exactly where she’d thought he was. Beside her, right by her shoulder.
Her gaze had landed on his lips; she saw them curve, felt his gaze on her face.
Rendered breathless again, she determinedly breathed in and lifted her eyes to his. “Good afternoon, my lord. I wasn’t sure we’d see you here.”
Gervase held her gaze for an instant, then, as she had, looked around. “Not, perhaps, my customary milieu, but as I have, indeed, taken up residence, I thought this might prove a useful venue in which to improve my local knowledge.”
He glanced at her. “In return for my scouting on your behalf about your brothers, I hoped you might assist me in this arena.” With his head, he indicated a couple chatting with Mr. Caterham. “For instance, who are they?”
“The Jeffreys,” Madeline supplied. “They’re relative newcomers. They’ve taken on the old Swanston farm at Trenance.”
“Ah.” He closed his fingers about her elbow and drew her into an ambling walk. She glanced at him sharply, but consented to move. He smiled. “If we remain stationary, Mrs. Henderson is going to come bustling up and trap
