Dalziel rose, as did Gervase and Christian; he smiled genuinely, with the air of a wolf in fond expectation of his next meal. “So all that’s left is for us to fly down to Cornwall, and trap our fine traitor at Kynance Cove.”
Chapter 18
Madeline had had more than enough of being jolted about in a flying carriage. The one aspect that made this second breakneck journey infinitely more bearable than the first was Ben; he was lying curled up on the seat, his head in her lap, dozing as they raced along.
It was now midmorning; as before, they’d traveled through the night, stopping only to have fresh horses put to. Gervase, Ben and she were traveling in the lead in their hired carriage, with the same two Cornish coachmen on the box. Christian and Dalziel were following close behind in a well-sprung carriage with the marquess’s coat of arms blazoned on the side.
That, and the unvoiced rivalry between Christian’s coachmen and their two coachmen had, more than anything else, contributed to their remarkable pace. They’d left London within an hour of Ben revealing all; now, not even twenty-four hours later, they were nearing their goal.
Madeline saw a familiar landmark flash past. “We’re nearly into Helston.” Looking across the rocking carriage, she met Gervase’s eyes. “Where should we head first?”
His lips curved, more in reassurance than a smile. “I told the two maniacs up top to go straight to the Park. They know the way.”
She nodded and looked out of the window again, conscious of a strange urgency building—to reach home, to confirm that Harry and Edmond were there, unharmed, that no action had taken place while they were away. An underlying itch to make sure all in her domain, all those she cared for and thought of as in her keeping, were safe, that everything was as it should be.
That the unknown traitor hadn’t already made some move.
As usual, Gervase seemed to read her mind. “Our villain might arrive before us, but he won’t escape us, not 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.