Stay out of sight unless our villain or his henchmen arrive-they’ll almost certainly not be locals. Then…you’ll have enough men to capture them.”
Harry swallowed. He held Gervase’s gaze, then nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“Don’t worry.” Gervase clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll have your head stableman and others you know with you.” He turned to Edmond. “You’ll need to ride with Madeline and the rest of us to show us exactly where Ben was when last you saw him.”
Gervase glanced one last time at the map, then turned to the door. “Right-let’s get going.”
The boys fell in on his heels. They returned to the front hall; swiftly, Gervase made arrangements with Milsom, with the older man’s help selecting experienced men as well as a few eager young stalwarts for Harry’s “troop.”
Milsom retreated to dispatch a footman to ferry his orders to the stables. As Gervase turned back to the boys, Edmond asked, “Ben is going to be all right, isn’t he?”
Madeline hurried down the stairs in time to hear the question. After dispatching her last note-the one to the castle-she’d rushed upstairs to pull her riding trousers on under her walking dress-no time to change gowns-then she’d stopped in Muriel’s room to explain. Her aunt napped in the afternoons when she could; she’d been horrified, but had borne up under the strain, relieved-as Madeline was-to know that Gervase was there and helping.
Now, hearing Edmond voice her own fearful question, she felt her heart contract, felt herself wait, breath bated, for Gervase’s answer.
He’d heard her footsteps; he turned, met her eyes, then smiled gently, reassuringly. He turned back to Edmond, looking down into her brother’s face. “The most likely thing to happen is that after Ben gives them a location for where you found the brooch, they’ll leave him somewhere, trussed up so he can’t raise the alarm while they come to search for the rest of the lost cargo. There’s no reason for them to harm him. Once we catch them, we’ll be able to learn where they’ve left him.”
Madeline felt her eyes widen. “Brooch? Lost cargo? ” Clearly she’d missed something major.
Gervase met her eyes. “I’ll explain all on our way. We have to get moving.” He glanced at Harry. “Harry’s leading a band of your men to keep watch on the beach where they found your brooch.” He caught her gaze, clearly willing her not to slow them with more questions, to trust him. “Can you fetch a shirt of Ben’s, or a neckerchief? Not something washed but something he’s recently worn next to his skin. It’ll give the dogs his scent. Two pieces would help-Charles has two dogs and we might want to send them in different directions.”
Drawing in a huge breath through the vise clamped about her lungs, lips thin, she nodded. “I’ll get them.” Turning, she hurried back up the stairs.
Behind her she heard Gervase repeating orders to Harry, calm and certain, reassuring in his clarity.
She swept into Ben’s room; it took but a moment to sort through the pile of dirty linen flung in a corner. Selecting a shirt he’d worn the day before, and his nightshirt, she rushed back into the corridor, paused, then, bundling the linens up in one arm, she ran to her own room.
The brooch-how the devil was it linked with all this?-lay on her dressing table. She swiped it up, stared at it as it lay on her palm; she couldn’t believe it was worth anyone’s life, certainly not Ben’s, but…if the men who had kidnapped Ben were after it, she’d trade it in a blink.
Stuffing it into the pocket of her dress, feeling it heavy against her thigh, she raced out of the door and headed for the stairs.
She clattered down to find Gervase and Edmond waiting for her. Muriel had come down and was standing with them.
“Take care-all of you,” Muriel said. “And bring Ben back.”
Madeline swooped and kissed her cheek as she passed. “We will.”
She met Gervase’s eyes. He nodded. “Let’s ride.”
Outside they found a milling crowd, all mounted. She saw Harry conferring with Simpkins, their head stableman, then Harry called the group about him to order. He glanced back, once, at her, raised his hand in a salute, nodded to Gervase, then led his small band off.
Madeline stared at his back as he rode down the drive.
“Here. Mount up.”
She turned to find Gervase holding Artur’s head. “Oh-thank you.” Shaking her wits into order, she stuffed Ben’s clothes into the saddle pocket, then shoved her boot in the stirrup, grasped the saddle and swung up to Artur’s back.
The instant she had her reins in hand, Gervase turned to his gray and mounted. He nudged the huge horse close, then lifted his head to address the others. “Straight to Helston by the best route. If we get separated, we’ll meet outside the Scales & Anchor.”
Murmurs of acknowledgment sounded all around.
Gervase nodded at her. “Lead off.”
She swung Artur’s head for the gate and loosened his reins.
They were galloping by the time they cleared the gates at the end of the long drive; glancing around, she noted Gervase keeping an eye on Edmond, but he soon saw there was no need and pushed forward to ride alongside her.
“They can ride as well as I do,” she called.
He nodded. “So I see.”
“So what’s going on?”
He glanced back, then called to her, “You and I are going to outdistance everyone else. We’ll be waiting for them in Helston-I’ll explain everything then.”
Regardless of all else, even her own understanding, she wanted Ben rescued as soon as possible. So she nodded, and looked ahead. And urged Artur on.
Chapter 16
They gathered outside the Scales & Anchor, a crowd large enough to fill the street. Abel Griggs and his lads joined them, as did many of the local men and boys. It was early evening when Gervase organized the assembled multitude into groups and sent them out searching, quartering the town, spreading outward from the old docks where Ben had last been seen.
Leaving Abel installed on the bench outside the Scales & Anchor to receive any reports, Gervase took Madeline’s arm and together they walked swiftly to the mayor’s house, a short distance away.
“Good gracious!” Mr. Caldwell, the mayor, was shocked by their news. “Of course you must search. Do you have enough men? We could call out the militia-entirely appropriate in such a case.”
Gervase inclined his head, acknowledging the offer. “No need as it happens, not because we can’t use the men, but because most have already joined us.”
“Good, good.” Short and tending toward rotund, Mr. Caldwell bobbed his head, looking stunned. “Shocking thing, to have a youngster kidnapped.”
“Indeed.” Taking Madeline’s arm, Gervase eased her away-before Caldwell started speculating on Ben’s plight, something Madeline didn’t need to hear. “If you’ll excuse us, we must get back to the search.”
“Of course, of course!”
With a nod, her face expressionless, Madeline turned away and let Gervase lead her down the path and back into the street. Her features were set; she felt locked away inside herself, as if everything were happening at a distance, yet she knew that it was real, the here and now.
She knew Ben had been kidnapped and was in danger.
Gervase had explained all she hadn’t known while they’d waited for the others outside the inn. In large measure the explanation was incidental; to her, the only thing that mattered was Ben-finding him, rescuing him, safe and unharmed.
Her detachment, she was beginning to realize, was a boon.
If she thought about the situation too much, let possibilities form and take shape, panic welled and threatened to overwhelm her, to sink her mind in a morass of emotions, but with Gervase beside her she could hold back the
