“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.
