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.
Raising her hand, he brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then left her, striding back down the steps and heading for the ramparts. Madeline watched him go, then went into the house.
She found Sybil in the drawing room with Penny. The girls were ranged before their mother, seated on the chaise, asking permissi
on to go down to the cove.
“Madeline!” Sybil turned to her with relief. “What is this about smugglers taking over the cove—do you know?”
“The biggest local smuggling gang have just brought their boats into the cove, but girls?” She waited until all three girls looked her way. “I’m afraid we’ve a very serious situation on our hands.”
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.”