“It should please you to know that I laid out my intentions before Lilian yesterday,” he said, thinking he could evade further discussion.
“Meaning?”
The man is not going to let this drop. Harlow took a deep breath, then glanced at Max, who sat emotionless. Apparently, he was willing to hear Harlow out, as well.
“Lady Lilian and I discussed pursuing our acquaintance in order to determine the depth of our feelings for each other.” He paused to clear an uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I have avoided marriage thus far, primarily because I have…” He struggled for the word. “…I have episodes at night which I do not wish to subject a wife to, and I explained that. Despite this obvious drawback, I find in myself a desire to court her.”
“My sister is comfortable with that?” DeLacey responded in a surprised tone.
“Yes, she indicated she was, but it is my full intention to establish if we suit. I have feelings for her.” Saying it aloud to her brother made it, all at once, seem very real, he realized, hoping the sudden sweat on his brow would remain hidden in this dank setting.
“Very well, but you had better maintain those honourable intentions. I would expect no less of you,” DeLacey whispered. “However, toy with my sister’s feelings, and I will call you out.”
“He has the same nightmares many of us brought home from the war,” Max spoke up quietly. “Your sentiments are understandable, but we both know he would never toy with an innocent. Now, do we get to business and dispense with this. Tell us what you already know.”
Now you speak up, Max. Where were you a few moments ago? He wanted to fume, but Harlow found it hard to be annoyed with either man. Both were protecting Lilian’s interests. She did not react to the news of my nightmares. He clung to the hope that Lilian would be perfect for him. Shaking his head slightly, he attempted to clear her from his mind.
“I believe the entire operation emanates from Tintagel and is run by someone with multiple business interests…” DeLacey passed on his knowledge. “The town apparently knows and supports this man, although I do not think he lives there…”
“It is a woman, we think,” Max cut in softly. “We believe her to be the widow Poinz.”
“Lud!” DeLacey grew quiet. “The ton knows her only for her temper and her jealousies, not to mention her wealth since her husband died. It could fit.”
“His death is still a mystery,” added Max, as he popped a piece of salted meat into his mouth.
“Yes, it is.” DeLacey sipped his ale. “It makes sense. She owns public houses and inns across the Cornish coast and into England. Indeed, we had not ruled out a woman, upon the stock of something we heard from an informer.”
“Did the informer tell you anything about their signals?” Harlow asked.
“No, but I have my suspicions. The entire community profits from their activities and they all look the other way. However, I have noticed a few things,” DeLacey added. He leaned closer. “If you think the widow leads, that is key information and will help us determine who is on the inside. It will be someone she is close to…in the government.” He passed a list of names to the two men and waited for them to look at it.
“There is not much light, but I recognize many of these names,” Max said, angling the list slightly to catch the meagre light from a lamp hanging nearby.
“They are names given to me by an unwilling informant. Watch for a farmer on a white horse. I think he is part of the signal. I believe he signals with it,” DeLacey acknowledged. DeLacey reached out for the list and shredded it into small pieces, stuffing the pieces in his pocket.
“We have noticed him. He rides his horse to town, and either walks back, leading the horse along the main road, or returns by riding it along the coast road. We think the latter is an all-clear signal as it has coincided with ships being wrecked. We could have called the Dragoons and pulled in the net, but we need the conspirator from within,” Harlow spoke very low, although given the hum of conversation, it was unlikely they would be overheard.
Max and DeLacey nodded and finished their ale. “I have a suggestion for a dropping place,” DeLacey broke the silent comradeship, his voice also low. “It should be easy enough to do. There is a loose cornerstone, low to the ground, on the north corner—back facing side—of the post office. The stone is grey and sits among two badly chipped white ones. The building does not get busy until about ten of the clock. Put your messages there.” He laid his palms down on the table. “I will leave first. And I will be in contact.”
“Agreed.”
Chapter 11
Five days later.
Lilian’s body jostled in the coach as it rolled across the uneven stone paving on Bossiney Road, taking them through the small coastal town of Tintagel. Five days in a coach had challenged the adults, but Cooper seemed to enjoy the attention. Remarkably, the puppy could conduct his business at main stops and added no strain to the trip. His presence lightened her mood considerably, although she thought more and more about the handsome Lord Harlow, wishing she had been a little more forward and kissed him again, having never been kissed before then. It seemed an age since they had left for London, and she wondered when she would see Lord Harlow again. He had shown an interest in continuing their courtship, she told herself. I will make sure to receive another kiss on his next visit. She found herself daydreaming about his last kiss.
Sitting for hours exhausted everyone, and even her books had begun to bore her. “It has been so long since I have seen Darby,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder how he will get on with Cooper,”
