Page 30 of What the Heart Knows

“Three days now, since she was allowed to visit the village. I worry for her,” Kit said.

“If I may be so bold, you need productive work to occupy your mind and prevent you worrying yourself to death.”

“You, my friend, are very wise.” Kit stared at Brewster then sighed and dropped his gaze to his mug of cider. “Have you any suggestions?”

“Are you still interested in stopping the smuggling?”

“I’ve already taken steps to that end. I’ve written to my cousin the Earl of Dunitsbane requesting he use his influence to send a troop of dragoons to Fenwick for just that purpose.”

Brewster grinned. “Knew you’d figure out something to help us. Now what must we do to prepare for the dragoons? Have you thought where to house them? If Brookbank gets word of them, he’ll delay any shipments until the troops leave.”

“My cousin will take care of keeping the Dragoons’ presence unknown. He knows why I’ve asked for them.”

“Do you know when the gang’ll bring their next shipment?”

“I have recently received confirmation they plan to ferry goods during the new moon. However,” Kit confessed. “I do not know where they will bring the goods ashore.”

“Then you and George must continue trying to find you a place to live.”

Kit straightened in his chair. “Only now I’ll be searching out locations where the smugglers might work instead of interviewing Fenwick folk about those smugglers.”

“Aye, and I’ve a couple of suggestions for starters.”

“Tell me. I’ve learned a great deal about Fenwick and the surrounding territory in the past week and a half. I’ll begin my investigations today.”

“I’ll tell you all of the best spots, but you’ll still need to check them out for yourself. George can guide you. Might be best if no one realizes how well you know the area.”

“Good idea, but I’ll have to take someone else. George carried my message to my cousin and has not returned.”

“I’ll find you another guide. One of my stable boys, Robbie, is a good, honest, and discrete lad.”

“I’d best change into riding clothes. Send Robbie to me when our horses are saddled.”

“Mrs. Brewster will prepare som’at for the two of you to eat. You may not return in time for luncheon or tea.”

“That’s very much appreciated.”

As Kit climbed the stairs to his rooms, his heart lightened. He could do nothing to reduce the current risks to Meg without increasing her danger. However, he could plan how to eliminate all risk by being ready to give the lay of the land to his cousin and the dragoons once they arrived. He prayed that would be soon.

***

Two days later, with the new moon looming on September second, Kit trudged up the stairs. Henry Brewster was right. The activity of criss-crossing the coast from the northern cliffs to a few secluded southern coves definitely distracted him from worries over Meg’s situation.

He still feared for her but felt he was acting in her interests.

If only cousin Reid would arrive. Time was required to convince the Customs Office and other agencies to send dragoons on one man’s say with no solid evidence. If anyone could persuade rule-bound officials to ignore standard policy, ’twas his silver-tongued cousin.

For good reason, Augustus Paul Reidham, Fifteenth Earl of Dunitsbane was widely regarded as second only to the current Duke of Haverford as a man who could get things done. Kit never understood the trick of it, especially the means by which both Reid and Haverford seemed to gain information before anyone else.

The how and why of Reid’s skills hardly mattered. What was important was those skills could make the difference between life and death for the woman Kit loved.

Preoccupied with his cousin’s arrival, Kit didn’t hear the voices in his parlor before he opened the door.

“Kit!” An average-sized man with russet-brown hair and eyes of a startling blue leapt from the chair nearest to the hearth and rushed at Kit.

“Mmpf.” Impact with his cousin knocked his breath away. The vise grip of Ried’s hug prevented any inhale. Deceptively slight in stature, Reid’s strength rivaled that of the fabled bears from the former colonies.

“Ca’t breef.” Kit grunted.