Head down, he struck out across the fields. After scouring the peninsula’s beaches for weeks, he had a decent map of the area in his mind. He plotted a direct course that would take him inland, past several tiny hamlets and isolated farmhouses where he might find a horse. Even if he didn’t, he could easily walk the distance and reach his necessary goal before dawn.
Then, after he’d dealt with the one last thread he had to break, he’d vanish. Once and for all.
Chapter 20
In the wee hours of the morning, Gervase, Madeline, Edmond and Charles trudged into the castle forecourt and slowly climbed the front steps. They’d followed the coast all the way from Kynance Cove, and as Gervase had prophesied, seen nothing.
Along the way they’d farewelled those of his workers who’d fought with them and who lived in villages they’d passed. On the top of the steps, Gervase turned to the small band remaining. Grooms and stablelads, they were wilting, feet dragging, but their faces stated they’d enjoyed being a part of the adventure, and catching the wreckers had been worth every rough moment.
He smiled. “Thank you for your help. We might not have caught our gentleman villain, but we’ve done well by the district in rounding up the wreckers. Off to your beds-I’ll tell Burnham you’re excused until midday.”
They grinned sleepily, bobbed their heads in salute, then shambled off, some to the stables, others around the castle.
With Madeline beside him, her hand in his, Gervase turned and followed Charles and Edmond into the front hall.
Sybil, Penny and Sitwell were waiting.
“Thank Heaven!” Sybil enfolded Edmond in a hug, then looked at Gervase and Madeline. “Just look at the pair of you-did you have to swim?”
He and Madeline glanced down at their clothes; once the storm had passed, the night had turned mild, but they were still damp and plastered with sand.
Tightening his grip on Madeline’s hand, he met her eyes. “We’d better go up and change out of these clothes.”
“Indeed,” Sybil said. “We don’t want any chills.” She looked at Edmond, still within her arms. “And as for you, young man, there’s a warm bed waiting upstairs-we’d best get you into it before you fall asleep on your feet.”
Edmond grinned at her; the fact he didn’t argue but allowed himself to be steered toward the stairs screamed louder than words that he was exhausted. He waved sleepily back at Madeline and the others. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. Good night.”
Madeline and Gervase smiled, waved and echoed his good night.
Penny, meanwhile, had been welcoming, then inspecting, her husband. Finding a cut on his hand, she hissed in disapproval. “Men and their swords.”
Charles chuckled and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Come on-if the dogs are in our room, we’d better get up there before they start barking. You can tend my injuries there.”
Penny frowned at him. “How many are there?” But she consented to be towed to the stairs. She nodded a good night to Gervase and Madeline as they passed. “We’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Late.” Charles didn’t look back.
Gervase and Madeline grinned. He caught her eye. “We’d better head upstairs, too.” He lowered his voice. “And get out of these clothes.”
They started toward the stairs. Behind them, Sitwell coughed. “I assume Mr. Dalziel and the marquess will be returning tonight, my lord?”
“They will.” Gervase didn’t halt. “They’re mounted-they shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll lock up once they’re in. I’ll leave a message for Burnham that his boys should be allowed to sleep late. And we’ll hold breakfast back until nine.”
“Thank you, Sitwell.” His gaze locked on Madeline’s sea-green eyes, Gervase wound her arm with his. Slowly they climbed the stairs.
They reached the gallery to see the light from Charles and Penny’s candle fading down one corridor. One candlestick remained on the side table; Madeline picked it up and sighed. “Dalziel’s going to be disappointed, isn’t he?”
Gervase steered her to the right. “I fear so. If they’d caught our villain, word would have reached here before us. I don’t know how he got off that beach…perhaps he didn’t, not safely.”
Madeline studied his face in the flickering candlelight. “But you don’t believe that.”
His lips quirked self-deprecatingly. He met her gaze. “It’s the logical, most likely explanation, yet…no. I think he managed to slip past us somehow. He’s made a career of that-of slipping through Dalziel’s nets.”
“I can imagine that goes down well.”
He grunted. “Indeed.”
They strolled slowly along, then he said, “You called Dalziel fixated, and to some extent he is, but just like the rest of us, now the war is over he must have a life waiting for him, one he has to return to.”
“You think after this he’ll give up-resign?”
“Christian said some weeks ago that he thought Dalziel was ‘tidying up.’ This villain-our last traitor-is almost certainly the last item on Dalziel’s list. If after everything else is settled that item remains unresolved, then yes, I think Dalziel will lay the list aside, walk away and get on with his life.”
She considered, then murmured, “For one of his ilk, that will require considerable resolution.”
He nodded. “Now you’ve met him, do you think he hasn’t it in him to close the door and leave the past behind?”
She thought, then conceded, “No, but it won’t be easy.”
Gervase guided her toward the door at the end of the wing. “Agreed, but ultimately he’ll have little choice. He’s not a career soldier, like all of us were. He doesn’t hold any commission. He was never in the Guards or any other regiment. Quite how he got to where he is, how he came to fill the position, we’ve never learned. But when he leaves it, he’ll leave Whitehall altogether-he’ll leave it all behind.”
“As you all did-but it’s followed you, hasn’t it?”
He grimaced. “True, but when Dalziel walks away, I suspect that truly will be the end.” He paused before the door, captured her gaze. “We’ve come close to this villain twice. The instant Dalziel appears, or as in the previous case, was about to appear, our villain drops everything, kills anyone who knows his identity, and vanishes. That’s why I think he escaped us on the beach-because he saw Dalziel and did something so desperate none of us can even guess what. You saw him, one of the smugglers saw him. He was there-but then he saw Dalziel, and he wasn’t there any longer.”
“I imagine most villains would run from Dalziel. Whoever he is.”
Gervase nodded. “That’s why I think we won’t see him again, and why it’s unlikely Dalziel will get another chance to lay hands on him. He was here, in the district, to pick up his thirty pieces of silver, but by their nature and by his leaving them so long in France it’s clear he doesn’t need the money. Now he knows Dalziel knows of his lost cargo, he won’t risk coming back to get it. No matter the attraction, it’s no longer worth the risk. And that-taking possession of his thirty pieces of silver-was the last act in our villain’s game. The war’s over-there are no more moves to be made.”
She frowned. “So Dalziel himself represents some special threat to this villain?”
He opened the door. “For whatever reason, for this man, Dalziel himself is the ultimate risk-the ultimate threat.”
He ushered her into the room, closed the door, watched as, pensive, she walked to a chest of drawers and set the candlestick upon it. Stirring, he followed her. She turned as he reached her. Raising both hands, he framed her face, looked into her lovely eyes. “But now that’s over for us, for all those here. The danger’s passed-Ben’s safe, Edmond’s safe…” He held her gaze. “Above all, you’re safe.”