Page 124 of A Perilous Passion

One hand nursing the warm pipe bowl, the other gripped round his dagger handle, he peered into the gloom and whispered, “Jennifer, beloved, are you here?”

“Jennifer” immediately responded with a throaty, distinctly masculine laugh. “Yes, my darling, I’m waiting for you.”

Relief washed over Rafe as he allowed himself a moment’s amusement at the watch phrases they’d chosen for tonight. “I should have made you wear muslin,” he remarked as Goves stepped out of the shadows and unshuttered a lantern. “That would have given a touch of authenticity to our encounter.”

Goves, a thickset man with a wiry beard, would not have looked good in a dress. “I think this is a safe enough place, my lord,” he said with a grin, revealing his uneven teeth. “Besides which, Paynter’s been watching the quarry more than two hours. The place is completely deserted.”

Paynter also worked for the War Office and was acting as Rafe’s lookout and guard.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me my lord when I’m meant to be a plain country squire,” Rafe told Goves.

“And succeeding very well at it,” remarked his companion, eyeing his dusty state.

“To business, then. It’s not safe to linger.”

“Aye. What intelligence do you have for us today, sir?”

He had much to impart. Despite the distraction of Miss Allston—Charlotte—and her friends, he’d gleaned a lot during his silent vigils close to the cave and out on the heath.

“There’s a frigate plying its way along the coast, delivering consignments of lace, gunpowder, and gold coin.”

Goves raised a thick eyebrow. “Excellent. That’s just the sort of information we need.”

“Lace is light, making it an easy cargo,” Rafe said. “It can easily be carried inland by foot. And it’s worth a good deal more than brandy these days. The gunpowder is meant for the signaling beacons they’re setting up, and the coin is to pay off the free traders and bribe children to fire the beacons.”

Goves scowled. “Children?”

Rafe clamped his jaw and explained what he’d learned in the inn from a drunken father who’d discovered a gold coin in his child’s pocket. He’d put two and two together, and come up with the grim fact that the traitor, or those in his employ, must be paying local children to set fire to the string of hidden beacons they were building all along the coast.

“Disgusting,” Goves muttered.

Rafe had to find the mastermind behind all this. The creature was entirely lacking in morals. “He’s not a Frenchman, I’m fairly certain,” he said. “I believe he’s English, someone who can pass unnoticed amongst lay and military alike without arousing suspicion.”

“A pillar of the community, eh?”

“Very likely.” Rafe was looking forward to seeing the villain hang.

“But you have no clue as to his identity?”

“None. I need more time.”

Goves grimaced. “My lord—” he began.

Rafe waved an impatient hand at him. “Mr. Seabourne, please.” Would no one ever remember to use his nom de guerre?

“Your pardon, Mr. Seabourne. Time’s something you may no longer have. Word is the commander wants to move you before you’re found out. There’s talk of Northumbria.”

“Northumbria!” Rafe spluttered. What good did they think he was going to do there? He balled his fists, infuriated. “I’d prefer to have the spider at the center of this web safely in shackles first,” he growled. “Mayhap I should remind the commander I’m a volunteer, not a conscript, and can walk away whenever I choose.”

The other man shrugged. “I’m just the messenger—I don’t give the orders.”

Rafe raised his hands. “I know. Sorry.”

“How will the Frenchies tell the difference between their signal fires and our own regular system of warning beacons?” Goves asked.

“Gunpowder. Each beacon has an explosive charge, so the ships will hear the noise as well as see the flash.”

It only took a second for the awful truth of that to sink in. “But the children lighting the fires will be blown to bits!” Goves exclaimed in horror.