She told them the story; Sybil, Penny and the three girls all listened with rapt attention, exclaiming here, horrified there, relieved at the last when she told them that the gentlemen were planning to rescue Edmond that evening.

When she finished, the girls, now sober and quiet, exchanged glances, then looked at her. “We’ll behave, we promise-you and Gervase have enough to worry about without us teasing you.”

She smiled, feeling the gesture go rather wobbly. “We’d both appreciate it-tonight is going to be difficult.”

She rose, intending to go and find Gervase, to see what he was doing.

Penny rose, too. “I should find my husband-I’m certain I heard his voice some time ago, and the dogs have been too quiet, which means they’re probably out with him.”

They left the drawing room together; behind them, Sybil called Sitwell in to ask about their unexpected guests and give the necessary orders.

Madeline waved to the door at the back of the hall. “Let’s go up to the east battlements-they give an excellent view out over the cove.”

They climbed the stairs, then went out onto the windswept battlements. Giving up her hair as a lost cause, Madeline walked to the raised stone walls and looked out. “There.” She pointed to where, far below, a small fleet of rowing boats bobbed on the waves. Then she noticed the doors of the castle boathouse were open. “They’re lowering the castle’s boats, too.”

Penny and she watched as first one boat, then another was swung out on the boom and lowered into the water. Gervase and Charles were manning the winch; two of the men helping jumped down into each boat, sat, took up the oars and rowed the boats across the cove to join the others by the castle watersteps.

Madeline counted the seats. “They can carry…eighteen, not counting the oarsmen, who’ll have to stay with the boats.”

Penny leaned on the wall beside her. “How many villains will there be on the beach-Londoners plus wreckers?”

“They’re not sure, but perhaps as many as twenty.”

“But some of those will be on the cliffs.”

“Two lookouts, at most.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “We can send more men by land, but the odds for the assault on the beach-as they’re terming it-aren’t that good. Those who go by land won’t be able to reach the cove in time to be of any help there.” She looked out for a moment more, then, lips setting, turned away. “It’ll be hand-to-hand fighting on the beach.”

Penny glanced at her, then followed her down the stairs. “I know it’s easier to say than do, but don’t worry. I’ve seen the Bastion Club members in action, and of one thing you may be certain-one way or another they’ll win.”

Madeline nodded. She hoped they would, but after nearly losing one brother to the murky underworld of London, she wasn’t about to remain quietly at home while the members of the Bastion Club rode like white knights to the rescue. No matter what they thought-no matter what Gervase thought-she knew where her place should be.


She bided her time; she needed to catch Gervase alone, but not in a corridor or abovestairs-somewhere they could speak privately yet in a formal setting.

The men spent the next several hours getting their arrangements in place. Gervase’s library-cum-study became the hub of all activity; she joined the group there, expecting her customary malelike status to allow her to be an unnoticed observer, but unfortunately Christian, Charles and Dalziel saw her clearly as a female-more, as a lady-and behaved accordingly.

They were very aware she was there, that she was listening.

As for Gervase, his view of her had radically altered; he certainly didn’t view her as he once had. Although subsumed beneath the unexpected rush of action, their evolving link, the sexual and emotional connection between them, hadn’t waned in the least; the curious hiatus-where he wanted to marry her while she simply didn’t know-was still there, like a caught breath, as if they were poised on some emotional edge, waiting to see, to learn, which way they would fall.

Because of that she accepted she had to tread warily, carefully, with him.

The door opened and Charles strode back in; Penny slipped in on his heels. “None of our scouts sighted the curricle.” Charles had gone out to the forecourt to confer with three grooms they’d sent across the fields and along the cliffs, as if they, local lads all, were simply enjoying a ride. “No sign of any unusual activity along the cliffs above Kynance Cove.”

Gervase grimaced and looked down at the detailed map spread over his desk. “Lizard Village is small, but there are numerous scattered farmhouses, cottages and, even more useful, barns in that area-they could easily have taken over one or more.”

“He’s certainly clever enough to get out of sight while he’s waiting for the tide to turn.” Dalziel was once again circling. “I suggest we resist the temptation to search further. The last thing we want is to let him know we’re here, preparing to pounce.”

Pausing, he met Gervase’s eye, then glanced at Charles and Christian. “This may well be our last and best chance to catch this blackguard-we know he’ll be in that cove tonight. We should focus on taking him then. If he learns we’re near, in the neighborhood, despite his desire for his cargo his instinct for self-preservation might yet be strong enough to make him bolt.”

The others nodded.

Madeline opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Gervase added, “And he does have Edmond.”

Dalziel nodded, reassuringly grim. “Indeed.”

Penny joined Madeline by the side of the room; together, they listened-Madeline suspected both of them critically-while the final dispositions were made. As well as Gervase and this three friends, Abel was there, along with Gervase’s head stableman, one of Abel’s brothers, Gregson the bailiff, and a selection of others.

Christian wasn’t especially at home on the waves; he was the obvious choice to command their land forces-the small band of grooms, farmers, gardeners and laborers they’d assembled.

“So we block the road here.” Leaning over the map, Christian put his finger on a particular spot. Craning past the various shoulders, Madeline saw he’d indicated a place just south of Cross Lanes.

“There’s a curve and a dip,” Gervase said. “He’ll be on the downward slope heading toward you by the time he sees you.”

Christian nodded. “I’ll station enough men there to stop a curricle as soon as we get there, just in case for some reason he gets the wind up and flees early, but assuming he’ll be on the beach at least until you make your move, I’ll take the rest of the men and scout around. It might be wise, given the area we’re trying to secure, to make sure there are no horses available for him to commandeer, in case he gets away from us at the beach.”

Dalziel nodded curtly. “We take all possible precautions.” He studied the map, then grimaced. “As you so rightly point out, the area is big-any net we fashion will necessarily have big holes. If he slips past us at the cove and doesn’t take his curricle, it’s not going to be easy to prevent him escaping.”

“But this,” Gervase said, “is the best we can do.”

The others nodded.

“So”-Gervase looked at Charles-“to the action on the beach.”

He and Charles had the most experience with smugglers and skirmishes, if not outright battles, on beaches, waged from the sea.

Charles wrinkled his nose. “I can’t see any point in carrying pistols, can you?”

Gervase shook his head. “Too wet, not terribly useful at such close quarters given how confused it’s bound to be, and not useful enough given the numbers we’ll face.”

“Unlikely any of them will be carrying pistols either.” Charles grinned, a distinctly anticipatory wolfish expression. “So it’s blades-swords, cutlasses, daggers.”

Both Abel and his brother were nodding.

Gervase glanced at them. “There’s a small armory here. I’m assuming your men will have their own weapons, but we can make sure everyone in the boats is well equipped.”

“Aye,” Abel said. “We might need a few extra blades, just to cover things.”

“Right.” Dalziel shifted. “Now for the timing.”

Madeline noted the puzzled glances Christian, Charles and Gervase threw him-and the subsequent flick of their eyes to her and Penny-before they followed their ex-commander’s lead.

She narrowed her eyes. They weren’t going to discuss the details of the assault on the beach in front of her and Penny.

Beside her Penny humphed, obviously having come to the same conclusion. Glancing at her, Madeline saw Penny’s gaze boring into her husband; she intended getting the details from him later.

Madeline looked at Gervase, considered, then she arched a brow at Penny. “I think I’ll go and organize with Sybil to have dinner brought forward. Coming?”

Bending a distinctly jaundiced look at the males gathered about the desk, Penny sniffed. “I may as well.”

They left the room on their appropriately ladylike mission, but once the early dinner had been organized, Madeline slipped back into the library, this time alone. She drifted to the far end of the room and stood looking out, plainly not attempting to overhear the men’s plans.

She didn’t need to hear them; she was more than capable of planning herself.

Sitwell arrived to announce the cold collation laid out in the dining room for the gentry, and the kitchen for everyone else. The others drifted out. She waited, knowing Gervase wouldn’t leave the room without her… What she hadn’t counted on was his ex-commander’s irritating insight.

Dalziel didn’t leave either. When all the others had gone, he stood by the desk with Gervase-both of them with their gazes trained on her.

Patiently waiting to escort her to the dining room.

Lips thinning, she walked back up the room toward them. If Dalziel thought to, by his presence, prevent her input into their plans, he would need to think again.

It was his dark gaze she held in the instant she halted before the desk, then she turned and met Gervase’s amber eyes across the map. “I’ll be in the boats going to the cove, too.”

Gervase’s eyes, his face, hardened. “No. You need to stay here.”

She raised both brows, her gaze steady on his. “You don’t rule me.” She flicked a glance at Dalziel. “And neither do you.” She looked again at Gervase. “If I ask Abel to take me, he will. He can’t afford to antagonize me, and all in all, I don’t think he’ll think my request unreasonable-” Gervase opened his mouth to protest-she silenced him with an upraised hand and a tight smile. “Once he hears my reasons.”

Lips compressed, Gervase studied her. He flicked a glance at Dalziel, standing silent and still a pace to her right, then looked back at her and asked, “What reasons?”

She inwardly smiled, knowing her battle won, but she allowed nothing beyond calm certainty to color her tone. “Let’s consider your plan for rescuing Edmond. You’ll have the boats ease close, but remain far enough back so they aren’t sighted by those on the beach. One boat will slide in close to the point itself, where the water’s shallower, and you and Dalziel will go over the side and wade to shore-unlikely any men at the center of the beach will see you at night. You’ll be well out of the range of any flares. While Dalziel goes after the traitor, you”-with her head she indicated Gervase-“will find and release Edmond-we assume he’s restrained in some way, but it will be too dangerous to leave him trussed up while a fight rages about him.”

She paused, and cocked a brow at Gervase. “Have I guessed all that correctly?”

Grim-faced, he nodded.

“Very well. To continue, Charles, remaining with the boats, will give you two however many minutes to-what’s the phrase?-achieve your objectives? Then he’ll bring the boats in and a fight will erupt all along the beach. During that fight, your specific task will be to protect Edmond. You’ll order him to stay behind you, and stand guard as it were over him.” She held Gervase’s eyes. “That’s what you’re planning to do, isn’t it?”

His eyes cut to Dalziel before he met her gaze. “That’s the gist of it.”

Neither could see where she was leading them, what hole in their plans she’d discovered and was about to point out. She could sense unease coming from both of them.

She smiled, not smugly but-she couldn’t help it-a touch patronizingly. “While you’re defending him, who will be restraining Edmond?”

Gervase frowned. “I’ll order him to stay back. He’ll-”

“Listen?” Incredulity oozed from the word. “Please remember you’re talking about a fourteen-year-old boy-no, let me rephrase that more accurately-a fourteen-year-old male Gascoigne -who after being seized by a villain and his rough-and-ready henchmen finds himself in the thick of a pitched battle between the forces of good and evil, on a beach, with smugglers on his side, swords and knives flashing in the dead of night.” Her voice had risen slightly, her diction hard and precise; she pinned Gervase, then turned to subject Dalziel to her gaze. “Do you seriously imagine he’ll meekly stand back, watch, and not join in?”