Page 32 of What the Heart Knows

“Most of them are already here.”

“How in the world did you keep sixty armed and uniformed men a secret from this village? That many men should’ve had every Fenwickian talking. Yet when I returned a bit ago, I heard nothing. I didn’t even hear that you’d arrived.”

Reid blew on his fingernails then polished them against his coat. “I am just that good.” He grinned.

Kit rolled his eyes. “You can brag later. If the dragoons are here, we must plan how best to use them.”

“Indeed,” Reid leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I instructed the troop to travel in small groups wearing civilian clothes. With your valet’s help. I arranged for the dragoons to gather at Salt Hall. They began arriving this evening. George and I traveled in similar manner. I was escorted to your rooms via the rear garden and the kitchen. Very few people were about, and I doubt anyone noticed the arrival of a travel-weary stranger eager to find his rooms and some rest.”

“So, the troop awaits orders at Salt Hall.” Kit pushed aside the memory of meeting Meg near that manor and the very pleasant afternoon they’d spent.

“George is designated messenger to carry specific orders, once we have a plan. Anyone seeing him will be told he’s visiting Salt Hall on your instructions.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” Kit relaxed into his chair for the first time that evening.

“We’ve yet to decide on the tactics to employ for subduing and arresting the smugglers.”

Beuth stood, stretching. “I’ll be going home, now. I’m of no use in this discussion. When you’re certain, tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

Brewster stood as well. “I’ll be going too. Best to leave tactical discussions to military minds.”

“I never served.” Reid actually blushed.

“You’ve a blade-sharp mind,” Kit said. “Any contribution you make will be invaluable.”

“Good night then, gentleman.” Beuth’s hand rested on the door latch.

“Likewise,” echoed Brewster.

Innkeeper and shopkeeper left together, ambling down the corridor.

George shut the door after them. “Shall I refill your tankards Captain, my lord?”

“None for me,” Kit declined. “I prefer to plan with a clear head.”

“Thank you, no,” his cousin said. “I am of the same mind as your employer.”

“Then I’ll refrain as well,” George stated.

Kit nodded. “Let us make our plans.”

Chapter Ten

Sea Grange, Suffolk, Evening of the new moon

Meg watched the sunset from her bedroom at the south end of Sea Grange. With windows on three sides, a glance behind showed night creeping over the ocean, and the shoreline fading beneath an approaching sea fret. The dense white fogs were frequent along the channel coast from April through September.

Yesterday, Father informed her the Yarmouth prelate would arrive within two days.

Today, she’d feigned weakness and loss of appetite. Two early symptoms of the consumption which took Mother’s life. By teatime ,Meg developed a delicate cough—another symptom she recalled from Mother’s illness.

Father ordered her to bed. He’d been about to send for the physician, when Brookbank interfered.

“I’m sure Meg’ll recover quickly, sir.” His arm circled her shoulders. “She simply needs rest. I’ll see her to her rooms.”

She’d been unable to refuse.

He placed her hand on his arm. They walked together to the stairs. In the second-floor corridor, well out of anyone’s hearing, Brookbank faced her. He lifted her chin so she could not mistake his expression.