“Indeed. Quite ingenious of them. They had Milsom and the maids set every clock in the house forward half an hour while you were out riding, then they changed them all back again-all except the one in your bedchamber-while you were bathing.”
Madeline shook her head, but she was smiling.
What her brothers had decided constituted a “proper party” began with a banquet for sixty. Madeline couldn’t recall the last time the long dining table had had every leaf added, and every chair in use.
Harry, seated opposite her at the head of the table, proposed a toast to which everyone responded with a cheer. And then the food arrived, served on the huge silver platters that so rarely saw service, with crystal glasses and gleaming cutlery. The noise of conversations enveloped the table. Bemused and deeply touched, she smiled and chatted, then simply relaxed and enjoyed herself.
But there was more enjoyment to come. Somewhat to her surprise, the question of the gentlemen passing the decanters never even arose; at her signal, intended for the ladies, the company rose as one, and followed her and Gervase-not back to the drawing room but into the ballroom.
Which had been opened up for the event.
Looking around, twirling to take it all in, she let her amazement show. “How on earth did they manage all this without my noticing?”
Gervase grinned. “It seems they planned well.”
She thought-remembered how all three of her brothers had remained in the office, how all had asked questions, kept her occupied through the afternoon. “The office is on the other side of the house, in the other wing. They kept me there all afternoon.”
“They held you prisoner?”
She smiled affectionately. “After a fashion.”
Their plans had included musicians and dancing. The next hours winged by in untrammeled pleasure; she waltzed with Gervase twice, then later gave in, to herself as well as him, and danced the last waltz with him as well.
The French doors to the terrace stood open throughout the evening, letting the balmy night air wash over the gathering. The room was more than large enough to accommodate their number without crowding, allowing everyone to move freely, talking with this one, then that. The musicians seemed inspired by the gay atmosphere and happily kept playing into the night.
Everyone had an excellent time, as they assured Madeline when, hours later, one by one, they took their leave. Gervase had remained by her side throughout the evening; that everyone in the neighborhood was expecting to hear an announcement of their engagement any day he no longer had the slightest doubt. But, of course, with him standing by her side, no one had been so gauche as to mention it, or even hint at it, for which he was grateful.
He’d accompanied her into the front hall. He stood a little behind and to her side as with Muriel she farewelled the guests; when he wished he could fade into the background, at least to some degree.
But then he saw Harry hanging back by the wall nearby, his eyes locked on him. Harry caught his eye, then tipped his head down the hall to where the shadows hung more heavily.
Turning to Madeline, Gervase chose his moment to touch her arm and whisper, “I’ll be back.” Then he drifted to where Harry was waiting.
Harry nodded in thanks, his gaze passing beyond Gervase to rest on Madeline. “It’s about that brooch. We just wanted to check.” He met Gervase’s eyes. “We found it on the beach below the tide line. That makes it ours, doesn’t it?”
Gervase nodded. “Which beach?”
“The one north of Lowland Point, immediately beyond the headland.”
Gervase let a moment go by while he considered the possibilities. “The brooch is yours in law, and you’re entitled to gift it to Madeline. It’s not wreckers’ treasure-there’s been no wrecks listed so far this summer and I have it on good authority that the wreckers aren’t working the Manacles.”
“So there’s no reason we shouldn’t look for more?”
He paused, then met Harry’s eyes. “Hold your brothers back from searching further for the moment. Let me check again in Falmouth if any registered ship has been listed as overdue. If none has, then it’s possible there has been a recent wreck on the Manacles, but of a smuggler’s vessel.”
“So the brooch might have been…whose?”
“If it was coming in on a smuggler’s ship, there’s no way to tell, but frankly I can’t imagine why smugglers would be dealing in such goods.”
They both looked at Madeline, thinking of the brooch.
Harry frowned. “It doesn’t seem likely, does it?”
Gervase shook his head. “The other possibility is that it’s an item from some long-ago wreck that for some reason happened to wash up now. I’ve heard that the Manacles can hold wrecks for decades, if not centuries.”
“I’ve heard that if a ship gets wrecked out there, there’s often nothing ever found-no debris or even bodies.”
Gervase nodded. “So just because there’s no evidence of any wreck doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.”
The last guests were chatting with Madeline; Sybil and his sisters had left long ago. He shifted. “I’ll check in Falmouth and let you know. Until then, stay away from the cliffs and coves.”
Harry nodded. “We’ll wait to hear from you.”
They parted and Gervase returned to Madeline’s side. He was the last to bow over her hand. “I hope your day was memorable.”
She smiled. “It was, and the evening even more so.” Suddenly reminded, she put up a hand to her hair, feeling for the wispy strands that usually slipped loose-and finding none. “It worked!” Her smile turned radiant.
He smiled in return. “Indeed. I thought it might.”
He bowed again, then to Muriel, standing beside Madeline. At the last he met her eyes. “I’ll see you anon, no doubt.”
With that he left her, and strolled out into the night to where the grooms had his curricle waiting.
He didn’t drive home.
Madeline had wondered about his “anon”-then had wondered if her unvoiced wish that he would come to her that night, making a magical end to what had been a perfect day, was too wanton. Yet when she glimpsed him crossing the lawn heading for the morning room doors, her heart leapt.
Earlier she’d removed her new brooch and fichu, laid them carefully aside, then climbed out of her gown, but rather than don her nightgown, she’d wrapped a silk robe over her chemise and sat before her dressing table mirror so nimble-fingered Ada could unclasp the golden circlet locked about her topknot.
“Absolutely beautiful,” Ada had breathed, setting the circlet next to the fan. “Fancy him thinking of such a thing.”
“Hmm.” Picking up her brush, Madeline had dismissed Ada, then had sat brushing out her hair.
And wondering…which activity had made her rise and, still brushing, go to stand by the window and look out.
She watched Gervase until he disappeared from sight. She stood for a moment, imagining him opening the French doors and coming inside, then crossing the morning room to the hall. Pushing away from the window, she went to the dressing table, laid down her brush, and headed for the door.
The instant he turned down the long corridor to her room, Gervase saw her, limned in golden candlelight, framed in the open doorway at the end, waiting for him to join her. A soft, subtle smile played about her lips; she’d never looked more like a seductive Valkyrie.
He couldn’t stop a smile curving his lips in response, was aware of anticipation rising. Didn’t think to stop it coloring his expression.
Her smile deepening as he approached, she stepped back, aside, to let him enter. He halted just inside the room and waited while she shut the door.
Then she turned. Before she could speak, he stepped closer. Raising both hands, he framed her face. Felt the delicate bones, the silken skin beneath his palms. Gloried again that with her, he didn’t have to tip her face far to meet her eyes, to study the peridot depths, a more intense, mysterious green in the candlelight. To read in them her expectation of pleasure and delight…at his hands, with him.