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
