Chapter Seven

Draco decided to ride back to Woodley Lodge after all, since getting a letter off to the Duke of Wooton at the Home Office was of the utmost importance. “My lord, you are back,” his butler remarked, hastily opening the door for him.

“Yes, Wescott. But only for a few moments. Send Rodgers to me at once. I’ll be in my study.”

He had just taken out his writing paper and sealing wax when Rodgers, the footman who had been handed the note to be delivered to Driscoll at the party, hurried in. “My lord,” he said, awaiting Draco’s instructions.

Draco withdrew the wizard drawings Imogen had made. “Take a look at these and tell me if any of them resemble the man who handed you the note.”

Rodgers studied each of them and then pointed to the wizard with the distinctive ring. “That’s him, m’lord. He’s definitely the one. These are remarkable, even the detail on his ring. How did you know? It is even more accurate than my description.” He scratched his head. “Did I even describe this ring to you?”

“Well, glad I recalled it right. Thank you, Rodgers. You’ve been immensely helpful.” Draco dared not reveal Imogen was the one deserving of the credit. Even though it was common knowledge she was an artist and had drawn the sketches, the fewer people who knew of her actual involvement in identifying the wizard, the better.

What mattered was that Healey had now been identified.

That confirmation was all Draco needed to send off a preliminary report to the Home Office. The Duke of Wooton ran all Crown operations and would now be alerted to Healey’s possible connection with the rebel cause.

Draco also wrote an engagement letter to Homer Barrow, noted Bow Street runner. He would follow up these letters with updates as needed, but getting the Home Office agents on the scent of Healey and his accomplice, Burke, was urgent. Nor did he overlook Driscoll’s toady friends, who also got a mention in those reports. Lord and Lady Trewick were included as well, but only for the purpose of being thorough. Constable Angel would also be sending inquiries to the London magistrate about those two and their whereabouts.

Draco’s first stop upon reaching Moonstone Landing was to drop his letters off at the Kestrel Inn with instructions for the innkeeper to make certain they made it onto the next mail coach. He watched Thaddius put them into the pouch. “Lock that pouch away and only hand it over to the coachman. Tell no one about these letters.”

“Aye, m’lord,” Thaddius said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Draco shook his head. Could he trust the innkeeper to keep his mouth shut?

He bade Thaddius a good afternoon and strolled down Moonstone Landing’s high street, now feeling as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Not that he was a man of leisure. Quite the opposite, there was an added complication and level of danger to Driscoll’s murder. Still, he was now able to provide the Home Office with important names, and they could carry out raids at the London end.

Perhaps this rebel plot could fall apart within a matter of weeks.

He passed the land agent on the street, pausing a moment to greet Mr. Priam, who had yet to stop beaming after selling Draco the ruin that had once been known as Peacock Hall. Perhaps he ought to have kept the name, for Woodley Lodge sounded quite dull in comparison.

He stopped in at the bank to chat with the manager and took a surreptitious glance at the ledgers on his desk to see if McTavish or Lord Healey had accounts here. He found a ledger with Healey’s name listed on it, noting a large deposit on the morning of the party. But there was no indication from whose account the payment had been made. He heard the manager’s footsteps and quickly tucked the ledger back in the top drawer of his desk.

Being an earl had its advantages, Draco supposed.

Not only had he been admitted immediately into the manager’s office, but no care had been taken to be discreet about the accounts of others. Not that the information lay open right in front of him, but it had not been locked away. It had taken Draco only moments to dig into the desk drawers and skim through private ledgers while the man was off fetching information Draco had requested for the sheer purpose of getting him out of there.

He could now confirm that Imogen’s wizard sporting a fancy ring had two accounts. Draco expected one was for his personal use and the other was for the smuggling operation. That second account had the large deposit. He would ask Burness to sequester these bank ledgers, but not before he had gathered more evidence and was ready to reveal details of his Crown assignment.

Having obtained the information he was after, Draco made up an excuse to hastily end the meeting. He hurried out of the bank and crossed the street to stop in at Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop to chat with the proprietor’s daughter, who was happy to gossip about their customers. “We get plenty of Londoners,” she said, “and an occasional Scottish family. But we haven’t had any Irish here as yet this summer or last, as I recall.”

In truth, Draco did not think the Irishman or the two lords depicted talking to him in Imogen’s drawing were the sort to take tea. He glanced across the street at the Kestrel Inn and decided to stop in again later for a chat with the innkeeper and a review of his guest registers.

But he had a few more stops to make before then.

He made his way over to the local tavern, the Three Lions, to question its proprietor, William Angel. These Angels turned up everywhere and held important positions in town, which reminded Draco that he ought to check in with the village constable, Malcolm Angel. He would attend to this right after he spoke to the harbor master.

But first, the tavern.

“No, my lord,” the amiable William Angel said. “Haven’t seen any Irishmen in here, and I watch my customers closely. One has to be careful, especially during the summer season when the London crowd descends on us, for thieves come along with them.”

Draco next made his way to the harbor master’s office and happened to run into Malcolm Angel along the way. “My nephew, Thaddius, told me you sent letters off to your Bow Street man as well as several other contacts.” He bent closer and whispered, “Including the Home Office. Is there a reason to involve the Home Office in this murder? Is this sad affair not more in the purview of the London magistrate?”

Since the Kestrel Inn doubled as the village postal office, Thaddius saw every piece of mail coming through Moonstone Landing. This was one aspect of quaint village life Draco did not particularly care for, because he disliked anyone knowing his business. “I thought it prudent to alert some of my well-placed contacts in the Home Office as well. We need to rule out suspects as fast as possible.”

“And have them keep watch on them all?” Malcolm nodded. “Yes, the more people on the task in London, the better. Were you heading to the harbor master’s office? I’ll walk over with you. He’ll be more cooperative if I put in a word.”

“Thank you. Let me guess,” Draco said dryly, “he’s an Angel, too.”

The constable laughed. “No, but he’s married to my sister. What cause do you have to be asking about ships in our harbor?”

Draco knew he could not ignore answering the constable’s questions. Although he asked in a pleasant, off-handed manner, this man was smart and intuitive. He knew Draco had connected Driscoll’s death to something farther reaching than a disagreement between two men. That Draco had notified the Home Office and was now looking for a ship that had passed through Moonstone Landing must have confirmed the constable’s suspicions.

“I may as well bring you in on the latest discoveries,” Draco said.

Without alluding to the rebel plot, he quickly recounted all he’d learned, including what he had found out while sifting through Imogen’s drawings.

“I cannot say more about my reasons for contacting the Home Office, but I expect I will have to bring you, the Marquess of Burness, and Viscount Brennan up to date eventually. For now, I can only issue a warning to all of you, and a plea not to interfere. If it turns out Driscoll’s murder is connected to this Home Office matter, I will advise you. For now, the Trewicks and Driscoll’s friends are not ruled out as suspects, and your investigation of them should continue.”

“All right, I will keep what you have told me in strictest confidence. But this Home Office matter, my lord—you are in a village with women and children that I am responsible to keep safe. You must let me know if there is cause to be worried.”

“I understand, but you are all kept safest for the moment by not knowing what is going on,” Draco insisted. “I am most concerned about your nephew. Will Thaddius keep his mouth shut about my mail? Otherwise, lives will be put in danger.”

“Including yours, I imagine. I’ll issue him a stern warning. He is no loose-lipped fool. Nor will he ever accept a bribe. He told me about your letters because I am the village constable, and he knows I am involved in the investigation.”

“Who else do you think he might tell?”

“No one else, I hope. I will lecture him again. In fact, I will do so right now. Go on ahead, my lord. I’ll catch up with you at the harbor master’s office,” Malcolm said, rubbing a thick, calloused hand across his neck. He was a big, barrel-chested man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, but his mind was as quick as that of any Crown agent in his prime. “By the way, how much does Lady Imogen know? These are her sketches you told me about, after all.”

“I’ve told her nothing.” Draco sighed. “But she is too clever for her own good, and I am concerned she will eventually figure it out. I’ve asked her to stop poking around, but the request fell upon deaf ears. I am truly worried for her safety if she continues to investigate.”

“Perhaps if you told her a little more, then—”

“No, I need to keep her out of this investigation from this point on. We are not dealing with some angry husband taking revenge on Driscoll. His death could be connected to something far more sinister, and Driscoll’s toady friends may not be so innocent after all.”

The constable grunted. “I should have held them here. I doubt I can get them back now.”

“The Home Office will put men to watching them,” Draco assured him. “I prefer to have them back in London and thinking they got away with something. They’ll have their guard down. As for Driscoll, I am now fairly confident he came here to meet someone specific, someone involved in serious crimes against the Crown. I have tried to impress upon Lady Imogen how dangerous this is, but I’m not sure she will accept to sit by quietly and do nothing. She’s a bright girl, and her mind does not stop working.”

They paused a moment while others walked by, then the constable gave his opinion. “Lady Imogen and her sister are quite special. Lady Ella was always thought of as the smart one because of her quieter, more thoughtful nature and the fact she looked after Lady Imogen like a mother hen. Lady Imogen was always the more impulsive one, the first to run over to a crying child or save a kitten caught in a tree. She has always been kind and compassionate. She is also daring and not afraid to work hard for a cause.”

“You seem to know them very well.”

“They worked closely with my son, Elmer, when volunteering at the army hospital. He adored Burness’s nieces and spoke of them constantly. Lady Ella was fearless, too. But she thought things through more logically. She used her head. Lady Imogen thinks with her heart. This is the best way to describe her.”

Draco nodded, because he had seen this very trait in Imogen. This was why he was so worried for her. She might feel compelled to save him if he got himself into trouble. Hopefully, that compulsion would wear off as he stayed away from her. This would not be so easy to do while his own family was staying at Westgate Hall.

He had left Parrot with her, but needed to take his dog back now that he meant to explore the caves on his property in earnest. He would also explore others in and around Moonstone Landing. Imogen had mentioned in passing that his own caves had seen what she termed “pirate activity” as recently as a year or two ago.

This came as no surprise to Draco, since the manor house itself had been abandoned for years. A ship could sail in unnoticed at high tide on a moonless night, unload its cargo to be picked up by an agent later, and no one would be the wiser.

But he knew the smuggling activity had stopped once he had purchased the property. Those caves were his now to do with as he wished.

He meant to use them for his own smuggling operation…by order of the Crown.

He found the harbor master, a jovial man by the name of Charles Wheatley, seated in his office. Draco introduced himself. By the time they were through with their small talk, Malcolm had arrived, and they got down to business. “The logbooks are all here on the bookshelf, my lord,” Wheatley said. “Take your time. Look through as many as you need. I’m available if you have any questions.”

Draco thanked him and immediately set to work.

It did not take him long to find out which of the Irishman’s ships had called in at Moonstone Landing. It was his newest, the Drogheda.

Searching back through more of the harbor logs, Draco found this ship had been here last July and returned again in April of this year. On last year’s visit, and again this year, the vessel had not remained moored for more than a day. No doubt it was to avoid paying higher docking fees, but the Irishman must also have wanted to avoid attention.

The Drogheda was due back here at the end of July, for Draco had arranged to meet its captain. This was something he did not care to let anyone in on yet. He had taken pains to set up a meeting with the Irishman and offer his caves to store the rebel guns purely for the purpose of inserting himself between McTavish’s smuggling operation and the rebel plotters.

His role was to set himself up as the intermediary. Other Crown agents were then to follow the men who picked up the guns from his cave and find out where they were delivering the weapons. But Draco was worried. He had gotten the names sooner than expected, and none of the Crown agents were in place yet.

This meant he might have to follow those rebel operatives himself. With luck, he might also find names of the higher-ups in this plot. However, he was not going to put his life and this entire operation at risk to pursue that information. Other Crown agents had already been assigned to this task.

The murder on his property now complicated everything.

He had grown friendly with Sean McTavish over the years, but privateers were for the most part solitary creatures. He wasn’t certain how deeply this Irishman figured in the rebel plot, assuming he was involved beyond selling guns and asking no questions. It was a foolish and dangerous undertaking, and McTavish ought to have known better than to get caught up in something this serious.

Draco thanked Wheatley for his time and then walked to the Kestrel Inn for a word with Thaddius.

“How may I help you, my lord?” the innkeeper asked in a whisper, his expression serious instead of his usual, eager-to-please smile. “I’ve told no one but my uncle about your letters, and only told him because he was working with you on this investigation. But my lips are now permanently sealed.”

“See that they are.” No doubt his constable uncle had impressed upon him the importance of keeping his mouth shut about Draco’s correspondence, but had the warning come too late? Thaddius was assuring him all had been kept confidential, but this inn was a hive of activity, and Thaddius could not have kept eyes on the mail pouch at all times. “I would like to look at your guest registries for the past three years.”

If the request surprised Thaddius, he did not show it. “Of course, my lord. Come into my office and make yourself comfortable at my desk while you search through them. Would you care for something to eat? I’ll have one of my staff bring you whatever you’d like.”

Draco hadn’t stopped to eat yet, but declined the offer, since he was eager to review the guest registries undisturbed. He did not want the inn’s staff wandering in, seeing what he was doing, and blabbing to anyone who would listen. “Perhaps later.”

“Well, you just say the word, my lord. We are here to serve.”

“Thaddius, no one is to know I have seen these ledgers,” Draco said sternly.

“Absolutely, my lord. I shall be mum about the mail and the ledgers.” Thaddius closed the door behind him and returned to his duties.

The scent of lamb stew and warm bread fresh out of the oven drifted in from the dining hall and made Draco’s mouth water. He ignored the groan of his stomach, for there was still too much to do, and he would have a fine meal later at the Burness residence.

Setting about to work, he soon found the names of the two lords Imogen had drawn with the Irishman. Lord Randolph Healey was the wayward second son of the Marquess of Cardway, a stern man who had probably cut off his son’s allowance due to his profligate ways. Lord Richard Burke was the fifth son of the Duke of Slough, another stern man who must have done the same to his son. Both Healey and Burke were known in London for their wastrel reputations and always being short of funds.

Draco used stationery from the inn to write another letter to the Home Office, this time making a more precise connection between these lords and the rebel cause, the bank account used for funding the smuggled guns, and documenting their meetings with the Irishman from the harbor master’s logs. Both men had come to the Kestrel Inn last July in exactly the same week as the Irishman’s ship arrived, and both had done the same again this April when the Drogheda called into port for the second time. Here they were again, having arrived the day before Draco’s party and scheduled to stay at the Kestrel Inn through the end of July, when he was to meet with the Irishman.

Would they sit in on the meeting? Or would the Irishman see them afterward?

Whatever their plan, this was too much of a coincidence to be overlooked.

Upon finishing his search through the registers, he summoned Thaddius. “Do you recall these gentlemen? They are staying with you now.”

“Indeed, my lord. I remember them from last year, too. They spent much of their time exploring the countryside, always returning quite fatigued. We often get explorers here, but I recall these two quite vividly because their actions felt…odd. They were not dressed for this sort of excursion, nor were they the ‘fresh country air’ types of gentlemen. They asked a lot of questions about caves. It did not feel to me as though they were merely touring, and yet they were not explorers either. I couldn’t figure them out. And now there’s been a death at the caves near your home. Are these two men somehow connected to it?”

Draco raked a hand through his hair. “This is a serious investigation, and I am looking at everyone who attended the masquerade ball.”

Thaddius frowned. “Should I know anything more?”

“There is nothing more I can tell you at the moment. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report it to me or your uncle immediately. Do not try to stop these lords on your own. Do not poke around their rooms or ask them questions. Do not ask anyone on your staff to poke around or ask questions. This is of vital importance, Thaddius. Do you understand me?”

The innkeeper nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“I cannot afford to have you tip them off or scare them away.”

“Then they are suspects,” Thaddius remarked, his eyes growing wide.

“Two among dozens. Do not make too much of it. If it turns out they are the culprits, this will put you and other innocent parties in danger. We do not want these lords to panic and do something foolish because they are worried you, or some innocent maid on your staff, know too much. Go about your business as usual and leave the investigation to us.”

The young innkeeper’s eyes were still wide, and his face had now paled. “Very good, my lord.”

Draco took another moment to finish this next report to the Home Office, adding a request that the Crown agents dig into a connection between Healey, Burke, and Driscoll, in addition to Driscoll’s toady friends. However, he left out mention of the Drogheda for now, a decision he hoped he would not come to regret. “Here, Thaddius. Make sure this one also gets on the mail coach to London. Need I remind you that no one must see any of my correspondence? Keep close watch on your mail pouch until it is loaded onto the coach.”

After handing this last missive into Thaddius’s shaking hands, he strode out of the inn. His next stop was Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop, because he was hungry and wanted a quick bite.

“Botheration,” he muttered upon finding Imogen, Deandra, and his uncle seated at one of the dainty tables having tea and cakes.

Deandra squealed and waved him over.

“What are you doing here?” he asked none too politely, taking no pains to hide his displeasure. What did Imogen not understand about staying safely close to home?

Imogen regarded him innocently. “Do join us, Lord Woodley. I was showing Deandra and your uncle around the village, and we ended our tour here. We just came from the army hospital, but did not go inside because there is a fever going around the wards. I thought Deandra and your uncle should have a glimpse of it even if we did not enter. But we were able to take a quick tour of Fort Arundel.”

Deandra nodded. “The fort is most impressive.”

“Major Brennan was kind enough to show us around,” his uncle added. “You must ask him for a tour, Woodley. I’m sure you will find it fascinating.”

“I’ve seen it.” Draco frowned at Imogen.

She squirmed in her chair. “Um, we intend to return to Westgate Hall as soon as we finish our tea. I’m sure you noticed the Burness carriage waiting for us across the high street. There’s plenty of room if you wish to ride back with us.”

He settled in the empty chair beside her, an ornate wrought-iron thing not meant to support a man’s weight. This tea shop was full of frills and cozy charm, adorned with doilies and floral drapes. Few men would stop in for tea and cakes unless it was to escort his lady companions. However, the pies and other confectionery treats were excellent, so no man ever complained. “Where is Parrot? I thought I told you to take him everywhere with you.”

“He is with me, but Mrs. Halsey would not allow him in the tea room proper. He is having water and cakes in her garden just out back.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Cakes? Is that dog not spoiled enough?”

Deandra giggled. “Now that you are here, do stop scowling and order something for yourself.”

He nodded because he was hungry. However, he was not pleased to see them treating the murder so lightly.

Imogen sighed, clamped her lips shut, then sighed again.

“What?” He could see she was eager to question him but hesitated to ask him anything in front of Deandra and her father. The restraint was obviously a struggle for her, but he did not care. “You know I am not going to discuss the murder.”

She sighed again and stared down at her strawberry tart. “I know.”

Draco noted her dessert. “Looks delicious.”

She glanced at him and nodded. “It is my favorite. But everything here is delicious.”

He ordered a mint tea and two slices of peach pie with an added dollop of clotted cream, which he devoured because he was famished by the time he dug into the first slice. Besides, peaches and cream reminded him of Imogen’s delicate scent, and it appeared he was famished for her, as well. “Lord, that’s good.”

Imogen’s tension eased, and she smiled at him. “Ella and I would stop in every afternoon over the summers. Mornings were taken up visiting the injured soldiers, then here for our treats before returning to Westgate Hall. Do you have more to do in town?”

He shook his head and finished the last of his tea. “No, it is home for me next. I’ll need to wash up and make myself presentable before I join your family for supper.”

“My uncle will not be offended if you come as you are. Nor will Aunt Phoebe. We are not guided by London rules of etiquette here. Our suppers at Westgate Hall are casual affairs.” She sighed when he remained expressionless. “But I see that I have not persuaded you. All right. We shall see you later.”

They bade farewell to Mrs. Halsey and her daughter, then Draco went around back to fetch Parrot for them.

The dog leaped to his feet the moment he noticed Draco. His tongue lolled out from the side of his mouth and his tail wagged furiously as he approached. “Parrot, we have only been separated a few hours. You would think I hadn’t seen you in years.”

But the affectionate hound leaped on him with such joy that Draco felt bad about consigning him to Imogen again. However, Parrot liked her, too. More important, Draco wanted her to be protected while this murder was still fresh, especially with Healey and Burke still in town and staying across the street at the Kestrel Inn. “I’ll take you back home with me tonight, but keep watch on Imogen until then.”

Parrot barked his assent.

“I know you’re a good boy.” Draco gave him some quick belly rubs.

Despite the efforts of Imogen and Deandra to undermine all his training with their doting attention, Parrot was actually quite disciplined and rarely had to be given an instruction twice. If only Imogen could obey his orders as enthusiastically as his own dog, Draco mused.

He wasn’t trying to be an ogre about confining her to the Burness home. His concerns were legitimate. Someone had been murdered. They did not have the culprit in custody yet. Nor did they know who the culprit was or why he had taken Driscoll’s life. Among the suspects were Driscoll’s friends, who had been eyeing her too avidly. What if one or more of them returned? What if they noticed Imogen in the village?

Not to mention the matter of McTavish and his connection to Healey and Burke, who were still in town and likely on edge because of Driscoll’s murder, especially if Healey had been the one to do Driscoll in.

“Blast,” Draco muttered, for the more he learned, the more confused this investigation became. This murder was not as straightforward as it had first appeared.

Imogen laughed lightly at something Deandra said.

Draco frowned again.

She had a pleasantly lilting laugh, but right now it only riled him. He had asked Imogen to stay close to home, and yet here she was traipsing about town with his family. He did not believe for a moment that her only purpose in coming here was to show them the army hospital or to have tea and cakes.

He allowed Parrot to scamper into the Burness carriage, assisted his uncle and Deandra into the carriage, then drew Imogen aside. “All right, what else have you learned, you little spy?”

Her eyes widened. They were the loveliest shade of azure blue mixed with vibrant swirls of green, and they ensorcelled him.

He silently chided himself.

Imogen continued to cast him that innocent gaze. “Um, what makes you think I asked any questions? I was merely showing your family around the village.”

“I was not born yesterday, Imogen. How many times must I warn you?”

She cast him another innocent look. “Are you going to abduct me again and kiss me?”

He groaned. “No, I am not going to kiss you.”

“Oh, because of our marriage pact.”

“Pact or no pact, if I want to kiss you, I will. I am prepared to accept the consequences,” he muttered.

This admission obviously surprised her. “Truly?”

He ignored the question, for he was not about to have a conversation about marriage and commitment now. He needed to know what else she had uncovered. “What have you found out?”

“Those men in my drawing, the one of the three men by the harbor. It fascinated you…”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, these men were also here this past April. Do you not find this suspicious? An Irishman and two English lords. What have they to do with each other? Do you think they were involved in Driscoll’s murder? I don’t have the name of the Irishman yet, but the two Englishmen are—”

“Lord Healey and Lord Burke.”

She frowned at him. “You already knew.”

“The more important question is, how in bloody blazes did you find out about them?”

“Thaddius Angel told me.” She cleared her throat. “Before stopping here, we popped in at the inn because it is such a beautiful place and their cook is a wonder. I thought your cousin and uncle would enjoy dining there tomorrow. I took the liberty of making a reservation, and included you in our party, since I was sure you would want to join us.”

Draco realized that she must have spoken to Thaddius while he was in the back office reviewing the guest registries. So much for the innkeeper swearing up and down he would keep his bloody mouth shut. “Can no one in Moonstone Landing keep a secret?”

Imogen regarded him sympathetically. “Alas, no. Is it not obvious by now? No secret is safe here.”

“Imogen, this is not a game.” He tucked a finger under her chin. “You have to stop asking questions.”

“It was a conversation. I wasn’t asking questions.”

He sighed. “Let me do my work without worrying that you have drawn unwanted attention upon yourself. Those two lords, Healey and Burke, are still here.”

She nodded. “I know. Thaddius mentioned it to me. Have you found out whether Driscoll was also here whenever they were?”

“He wasn’t. I looked for that connection in the Kestrel Inn registers as well.”

“Then it was just Healey, Burke, and that ship’s captain. Still, should they not be questioned about Driscoll and—”

“Blessed saints, you will be the death of me. These are dangerous men, Imogen. You cannot be anywhere near them. I will cancel that dining reservation.”

“But—”

“Canceled.” He strode back to the inn to attend to it and left her standing beside the carriage with her mouth agape. Perhaps he ought to have helped her climb in, but he was furious with her just now and would not have handled her delicately.

He wanted to throttle her.

Worse, he wanted to kiss her breathless.

Thaddius ran up to him as he marched back inside. “Thank goodness you returned. My lord, I was on my way to find you.”

Draco worried something bad had happened. “What’s wrong?”

“Lord Healey and Lord Burke advised me not five minutes ago they are cutting short their stay. They plan to leave tomorrow morning. Should I notify Uncle Malcolm? Do you want him to hold them here longer?”

“No, let them go. I don’t want them followed or any suspicion placed on them. The Crown agents have been advised to keep watch once they are back in London. Did they mention what time they were heading out? Or if they were heading anywhere other than London?”

“I was merely instructed to have Lord Burke’s carriage ready for them at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Shall I question their coachman? Or have my head groom, Mr. Matchett, do it? He’s a chatty fellow and could find out if they are returning to London or stopping elsewhere first. He’s very good at making conversation.”

“No, Thaddius. Do not involve Mr. Matchett.” Draco had encountered the man a time or two when stabling his horse for the day. He did not stop talking. In truth, he was a worse gossip than Mrs. Halsey’s daughter or Thaddius. Matchett might pick up useful information, but it was more likely he would reveal important information to those lords because he babbled incessantly. “As for you, Thaddius…”

“Yes?”

Draco cast him a stern look. “You are to do nothing more than smile and wish them a pleasant journey.”

“Oh.” His expression was one of disappointment.

“Heaven save me from amateurs,” Draco muttered. He had come to cancel Imogen’s dining reservation, but since those two lords were leaving in the morning, he did not see any harm in letting it stand. He would tell Imogen about his change of heart this evening.

That ought to please her.

In fact, it pleased him quite well.

Driscoll’s friends had fled to London, the Irishman’s ship had sailed away, and these two lords were leaving in the morning. With all of them gone, he was less concerned about Imogen coming to harm if she continued to poke around, which she was going to do no matter how often he warned her to keep out of it.

Despite all his concerns, he was feeling much better than he had this morning. With all the suspects gone, these next two weeks could turn out to be quite pleasant. Imogen would occupy Deandra with morning visits to the army hospital and afternoon visits to Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop, while he was free to go off on his own exploring the local caves with Parrot.

Also, with no villains left in Moonstone Landing, did he really need to cut off all relations with Imogen just yet? Not that he would show her any particular interest or affection. His family was staying with hers these next few days, and this was enough of an excuse to see her from time to time.

Another thing he resolved to do was tell the Marquess of Burness everything that was going on. He gave the matter serious consideration while washing up and dressing in suitable attire for this evening. Merely advising Burness to keep watch on his wayward niece was not enough. Draco had to reveal the details of his assignment, for there was no doubt the marquess could be trusted.

Besides, as Moonstone Landing’s magistrate, he had a right to know.

Draco rode to Westgate Hall later that evening and spoke privately to Burness before they were called in to supper. “You are an agent for the Crown?” he muttered, his relief obvious as Draco revealed what was really going on.

“Assisting the Crown agents on this assignment. I’m not an official Crown agent myself…more of a special agent.” Draco settled in one of the comfortable leather chairs in the study. “I would not have mentioned it, but the situation is too close to leave you unaware. We are trying to break up a smuggling operation that is tied to a potential rebel plot against the Crown. Guns are being delivered to these rebels. We know who is making those deliveries. But as yet, we do not know where those shipments are being dropped off or who is picking them up.”

“I see.”

“Well, now I suspect it was Healey and Burke picking them up. I am in the process of inserting myself in this rebel operation, and having them use my caves as the drop-off location, because we recently got word that their old location is no longer available. Once this is accomplished, I’ll be able to track their next steps. If all goes as planned, I ought to receive the first shipment of smuggled guns within the month.”

“And Healey and Burke will return with their men and wagons to pick them up?”

“That’s the big question, isn’t it? They were supposed to stay here through the end of July but have suddenly canceled their rooms at the Kestrel Inn and plan to leave first thing in the morning. I think they are desperate to keep out of our way as we investigate Driscoll’s murder. Moreover, if they did kill Driscoll, as I suspect they did, they will have hell to pay if it was not authorized by the Irishman gunrunner, Sean McTavish, or the rebel leaders.”

“Then why would they murder Driscoll?”

“I don’t know. I’ve added this as part of my investigation. What motive did they have strong enough to overcome their fear of McTavish or the men behind the rebel plot? McTavish will be livid when he finds out a murder took place at the very cave he plans to deliver his weapons. He might not kill Healey and Burke, but the rebel leaders surely will mark them for death if they acted without their authority.”

“What a mess. I suppose we’ll have Crown investigators swarming the village once McTavish is ready to sail in with his shipload of contraband. No wonder these two are fleeing.” Burness’s expression remained serious. “What will the Irishman do to you?”

Draco raked a hand through his hair. “Depends on whether he thinks I aided Healey and Burke. I hope to convince him I had nothing to do with them or the murder.”

“Will he believe you, Draco?”

He nodded. “Yes, I think so. We’ve dealt with each other before and have developed a mutual respect. I’m hoping that is enough to spare my life.”

“Dear heaven, you are in this up to your eyeballs.”

Draco nodded again. “I know.”

“Can you handle this alone?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “For now, yes. I have no choice anyway, since the Home Office agents are not yet in place to help me. And before you jump in and offer your assistance, forget it. I won’t put you and your family at risk. Imogen is already a handful.”

Burness cast him a mirthless smile. “Yes, she can be quite stubborn when she wants to be.”

“Just protect her,” Draco said, his voice raw with concern. “I hope to wrap up my part of the assignment within a shipment or two. As soon as I receive word from the Home Office they have what they need to move in on the plotters and arrest them, I’ll be done.”

“So you think it will take several shipments to gather the required information? What are you looking at? About two months?”

“Yes, I hope this is all it will take. Imogen must be given full credit because of her drawings. If not for them, I would not have connected the Irish smuggler to his English contacts. This is a major breakthrough. As I mentioned, I’ve passed the information along to the Home Office today.”

“It will take time for your report to reach them and more time before they can act upon it,” Burness said.

“The more they can do at the London end, the better it is for me. I have given them quite a bit to go on. Names, banking information. They don’t need me present to start gathering proof and making arrests. Healey and Burke are not the top men in this rebel plot, but identifying them might be enough to flush out the true leaders and stop their plans.”

“Or speed them up.”

“Let’s hope not. In the meantime, I still need to prepare for the Irishman’s arrival.”

Burness crossed to his bureau and pointed to the bottles on a silver salver atop it. “Care for a drink?”

Draco declined, since there would be wine at supper and drinks for the men afterward. Although he could hold his liquor, not even he was completely impervious, and he needed to keep a clear head. “I have set up a meeting with the Irishman two weeks from now.”

“What if he shows up early?” Burness frowned. “And if this operation has been going on for as long as a year, why would he only reach out to you now?”

“As I mentioned, something happened several months ago to disrupt his deliveries. For whatever reason, the caves the rebels were using to receive their shipments were no longer available. This was an unexpected stroke of luck for us, and why the Home Office reached out to me. I don’t know how they got wind of this, but they immediately approached me and hoped I could convince the Irishman to use my caves as the new location.”

Burness poured himself a drink. “Yes, of course. You know him, and your slightly tarnished credentials are perfect for the task. The rebel leaders would approve.”

“The ink was barely dry on my purchase of Woodley Lodge before the Home Office contacted me. Since I had plans to restore the manor house, no one would be alerted if wagonloads of goods were coming in and going out.”

“Sounds almost too convenient.”

“I am not privy to what happened with the former middleman. If the Home Office knows anything about it, they are not telling me. But I am not afraid of dealing with the Irishman. And I am exactly what he needs at the moment, a privateer with a solid reputation and one he knows he can trust… Well, as far as privateers can trust each other. The point is, the rebels are now in a bind and must replace this important drop-off spot or they will not receive their guns. McTavish is in a bind because he will never receive his payment from the rebels unless these goods are delivered to them.”

Burness settled in the chair beside Draco and listened.

“I put out word that I am looking to continue my smuggling activities. The Irishman took the bait. I cannot back out now that we are so close to planting me in their operation, no matter the consequences.”

Burness stared into the glass of scotch he’d poured for himself. “The Home Office should have warned me.”

“It started to fall into place very fast. That murder was bloody bad timing,” Draco muttered. “If it all falls apart now, the Home Office will still have the names I’ve given them. It is something. Meanwhile, I intend to get answers. Was the Irishman involved in Driscoll’s murder? Did he order it done? If not him, the rebel leaders?”

“What do you think?” Burness asked.

Draco shook his head. “I think McTavish was unaware. I’m hoping I can persuade him to turn informant and give us the rebel names. Not the low-level men such as Healey and Burke, but the important planners.”

“You’ve taken it this far. I suppose you ought to play along for as long as necessary. But Draco, do not be foolish. Let us help you out if the Crown agents are not in a position to do so. This rebel plot seems to be the most serious England has faced in years.”

“It is, and I cannot simply walk away from it.”

“All the more reason why you must let us assist you.”

Draco assured the marquess he would keep him apprised and seek help if needed. “Not for my sake, but to protect Imogen. I’ll need you to watch her closely and make certain she stays away from Moonstone Landing once the Irishman arrives. This is not some small task meant to patronize you. Imogen is not going to stop poking her nose into my business, and it worries me.”

In some measure, Imogen’s success in connecting Healey and Burke to Driscoll had gone to her head, and she needed to be reined in before she got hurt. This was what he emphasized to Burness again.

“I’ll do my best.” A soft look came over his face. “She has always been…Imogen. There’s no one quite like her. Those big eyes of hers can melt your heart. Her sweet smile and genuine goodness make you want to hug her. Everyone underestimates her because she is young and beautiful, and thinks too much with her heart. But her mind is razor sharp, and she picks up on things faster than lightning. She will howl if I restrain her. Oh, I will do it, because her life is too important ever to place at risk. I mean to protect her, as I have always done since she and Ella were children.”

Draco felt those same protective urges toward Imogen, although he wanted to do more than merely hug her. However, Burness would gut him, the Crown assignment be damned, if he ever took so much as a step out of line with his niece. “Let her maintain her usual routine, but she should not go anywhere without an escort. No wandering about the village on her own.”

“I will confine her to Westgate Hall as soon as the Irishman’s ship is spotted in the harbor. You said he is due to arrive at the end of the month. This gives you two weeks. Will you be prepared by then?”

Draco nodded.

Burness regarded him in all seriousness. “I wish I could send Imogen back home to her parents, but they reside in London, and that would be more dangerous with Driscoll’s friends there. Anyway, she is safest with me to guard her. I will keep her locked in her room and chained to her bed if I must. That girl is my heart. It would destroy me if any harm came to her.” He set down his glass to signal the end of their discussion. “We had better join the others now.”

They strode into the parlor together.

It took Draco less than a second for his gaze to fall upon Imogen. She and Deandra were chatting by the fireplace, Parrot dutifully at her side and stretched across her feet.

She smiled as he walked over. “Are you going to take Parrot home with you tonight?”

“Alas, yes. My apologies for stealing your foot warmer.” He chuckled and knelt down to be at the dog’s level. “I instructed you to stay beside her, not sit atop her.”

Parrot sniffed indignantly and rolled onto his back while remaining atop her feet.

Draco gave his belly a rub. “All right, I will not tell you how best to protect our butterfly.”

Imogen’s smile faded. “Do you think I still need protecting? Oh, yes, I see. There may be a few suspects still lurking in Moonstone Landing.”

He nodded.

“Is it safe for me and Papa to return to Woodley Lodge?” Deandra asked.

Draco rose and moved beside them to lean his shoulder against the fireplace mantel. The night was warm and no fire had been lit, nor would any be necessary over the next few weeks while the air remained warm and gentle. Candles had been lit at twilight and now bathed the room in a golden glow. “Yes, I expect it is safe for you to come home. However, I would prefer that you remain here a few more days as a precaution.” Deandra smiled at Imogen. “Do you mind terribly having me around a little while longer?”

“Not at all.” She cast Deandra the sweetest smile in return. “You know I am enjoying your company.”

Draco cleared his throat. “By the way, I did not cancel your reservation at the Kestrel Inn. I’ll join you.”

Imogen’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You will?”

Deandra clapped her hands. “Splendid! What made you change your mind, Draco?”

“I can be a little overbearing at times,” he said, not wanting to reveal too much to Deandra or her father. Imogen already knew he was looking into a connection between Healey, Burke, McTavish, and Driscoll, but that could not be helped, since it was her work that uncovered those connections. “Perhaps I was a little too cautious.”

Deandra was quick to agree. “You were an utter ogre!”

“I was being careful,” he insisted, frowning at his cousin.

She placed her hands on her hips and set her mouth in a pout. “No, you were just being arrogant and highhanded. I could not believe how mean you were to Imogen when she was only trying to do something nice for us.”

“Nice?” He grunted incredulously. “She was meddling. Fiendishly clever about it, too. Tell her, Imogen. Admit it.”

“See! You are doing it again, Draco!” Deandra grasped Imogen’s hand. “Pay no mind to my cousin. He is not always such an ogre. You poor thing.”

Imogen tried to stifle a grin, and it came out as a snort instead.

Draco did not take offense, for he had felt a possessive need to protect Imogen from the moment they met. That she had needed protection during his party still had him overset. He would continue to behave like a protective ape until all the knaves had been arrested and no longer posed a threat to her.

He did not want to think of the real reason she brought out his apish instincts. It was not only concern over a smuggling operation. It was really about her and the permanence of these feelings she brought out in him.

He hated that word…feelings.

He needed a clear mind, not to be distracted mooning over some bright-eyed girl who had never been kissed until he came along.

Lord, that kiss.

He could not get it out of his head.

Despite his concerns, he managed to get through his meal without irritating Imogen or once again being called an ogre by his cousin. He was remarkably restrained while after-dinner drinks were served in the parlor and the ladies had their tea.

Apparently, Deandra decided this improvement in his behavior required mentioning. “You were charming tonight, Draco. Thank you. I was so worried you were going to snarl at us again. I would have been so embarrassed. But you were a complete gentleman.”

Good grief, did he need to be complimented for his good behavior? Was it that noteworthy?

Deandra continued to chirp away, chattering excitedly about staying with Imogen for a few more days. “Do you think we will be permitted to volunteer at the hospital soon? I hope so. I would love to help out and then end the day with treats at Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop.”

Draco made no comment, but knew he would have an uprising on his hands when he ordered them confined to Westgate Hall once the smugglers returned.

As the evening drew to a close, they all walked out onto the terrace to watch the moon rise over the water. “Is it not magnificent?” Imogen said in a gentle whisper as she came to stand beside him, her face illuminated in all its shimmering beauty by the torchlights set around the corners of the terrace.

Draco nodded. “Yes, quite.”

She edged closer to him. “Have you learned yet why our village is called Moonstone Landing?”

He leaned his forearms casually on the stone balustrade as he looked out over the water. “No, but I think you are about to tell me. Go ahead, Butterfly. I would like to know.”

“It is said there are moonstones deep within the water that will shine on the night of a full moon whenever in the presence of true love.”

“True love? Is this what the moonstone lore is about?”

“Yes. Aunt Phoebe and her sisters made love matches with their husbands, and the moonstones glowed for them. The same happened to Brenna and the Duke of Claymore, and Brenna’s cousin Cara, who married the Duke of Strathmore, and her cousin Felicity, who married the Earl of Bradford, and—”

Draco laughed. “That’s a long enough list. You have made your point.”

“It happened for my sister as well. I think Caden fell in love with her the moment he set eyes on her.”

Draco stifled a groan. “Imogen, love at first sight is not real.”

She gazed up at him, obviously dismayed. “Why would you say such a cynical thing? It is most certainly real. One’s heart knows immediately when the missing part of it comes along.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, think of it as two pieces of a puzzle waiting to lock into place. The heart knows when the fit is right.”

“Even if the brain resists? One cannot leap into a lifelong commitment merely because one’s heart flutters. What if one is merely suffering from a bout of indigestion?”

Imogen turned away from him. “I am not listening to you. As I said, you are far too cynical.”

He nudged her so that she turned back to face him. “What is the point of the moonstones if one’s heart already knows who they love? Simply to confirm they are not making a mistake? And what if those moonstones fail to shine? What then? Would you pass up your chance for happiness with the person you love? Are these moonstones so infallible?”

“They have never been wrong.”

“How do you know? And is there not always a first time?” He knew he was distressing Imogen because she was now nibbling her luscious lower lip and fretting.

He tried not to look at her sweet mouth.

Those cherry lips.

Lord, he wanted to devour her.

“The moonstones are magical and never make mistakes,” she insisted.

He gave her cheek a light caress. “You are thinking with your heart, Imogen.”

“What is wrong with that? How else am I to recognize love when it comes along?”

He sighed, wishing she wasn’t so influenced by romantic notions.

But feelings were her strength, and she felt everything so deeply, ached so thoroughly and sincerely. Why did she have to leave herself so completely exposed to hurt? Perhaps this was why he felt so protective of her. How could he let anyone hurt his precious butterfly? “All right, tell me more.”

“The moonstones only come out on the night of a full moon,” Imogen explained, smiling up at him because she was pleased he was willing to listen to more of this fable. “They shine their colorful lights whenever they see a couple in love. The tide must be low, although I have also heard they will shine at high tide if the love in question is strong enough.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “So it does not matter whether the tide is high or low? I just want to understand the rules to this lore.”

Imogen’s smile faltered. “You are being sarcastic.”

“No, just trying to get it right. Are you sure there must be a full moon?”

“Well, I think so.” She gazed out over the water and then turned to him with a faerie glow in her eyes. It was as though she had captured the moonlight in her beautiful orbs. “But I think all rules are broken when there is true love. It cannot be held back by logic or convention. Magic happens, Draco. It really does. I wish I could make you see that true love defies all boundaries, including those of space and time.”

“And tides?” Draco shook his head and laughed softly. “This is what you learned from the moonstone lore?”

Imogen nodded. “Well, actually I learned about the limitless boundaries of love from the Moonstone Cottage ghost.”

“A ghost?” He wanted to laugh, but Imogen believed so deeply in the miracle of love that he dared not disappoint her. Who was to say she was incorrect? It could be that he was in the wrong. Perhaps this was why he was falling in love with her. They were such opposites, and yet obviously attracted to each other. He was a creature of logic and common sense. He believed in the practical, in what one could see before one’s very eyes.

Imogen believed in the impossible. Moonstones, ghosts. Magic. She could have passed as a faerie princess herself, for she believed in love’s dream and the power of enchantment.

Indeed, they were complete opposites.

And yet he could not breathe for wanting her so badly.

“Is there really lore about a ghost haunting Moonstone Cottage?” Draco pressed her when she did not immediately reply. He tried not to sound dismissive.

“Yes, and the ghost is real. He’s wonderful and would never hurt us.” She tipped her chin up in defiance, daring him to contradict her. “Henley, Phoebe, and Chloe have seen him. You can also ask the land agent, Mr. Priam, if you won’t believe them.”

“Has he seen the ghost, too?”

Imogen gave it a moment of earnest thought. “I’m not sure, but he heard reports from prospective purchasers who begged off from acquiring Moonstone Cottage because the ghost chased them away. However, he did not chase away Lady Henleigh Killigrew. She was Henley, Phoebe, and Chloe’s aunt.”

“And why was she spared his haunting?”

“Because he fell in love with her the moment he set eyes on her. He stayed on to protect her for the rest of her life. When she passed, the three nieces inherited Moonstone Cottage. Chloe and her husband own it now.”

“She and her husband, Major Brennan?”

“Yes, there is a story behind his connection to Moonstone Cottage, too. When we have time another day, I will tell you how he came into the title of viscount.”

“Good grief, another ghost?”

“No, the same ghost. His name is Captain Brioc Taran Arundel, and he died saving the children of Moonstone Landing from drowning. As a matter of fact, the Duke of Claymore’s wife, Brenna, was one of the children he saved. So was her cousin, Cara, the Duchess of Strathmore. And Felicity, too. She is married to the Earl of Bradford.”

“As you have already mentioned,” he muttered. “Two duchesses and a countess? Is that so?” But his question held no trace of mockery. Any man who would risk his life to save drowning children was a true hero and deserved Draco’s respect. Perhaps there was something enchanted about this place. How else would commoners such as Brenna, Felicity, and Cara—all of them Angels—have made love matches with dukes and earls?

“This is why there is a memorial to Captain Arundel in the village green,” Imogen said. “Brenna and her cousins were perhaps six years old and on a school trip when they were trapped aboard a sinking schooner that foundered in a sudden squall.”

Draco, an experienced sailor himself, fully understood how frightening these storms could be. “Go on, Imogen. I’m listening.”

She nodded. “They would have died had Captain Arundel not braved the dangerous waters and rescued them. Sadly, he did not survive. Just after he had placed them all safely on his vessel, he was struck in the head by a falling mast and fell into the water, and”—her breath hitched—“he was never seen again.”

Draco felt a stirring in his heart, for it was a cruel end for someone who had acted so bravely. But one did not tangle lightly with the sea. A superstitious sailor might say that the sea wanted a death and took the captain when he deprived it of those children. “Did they ever find his body?”

“No, not a trace.”

Draco could see the pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Imogen. Truly.”

She nodded. “After that day, his ghost haunted Moonstone Cottage. He chased everyone away until Henleigh came along. Then he fell in love with her, and she fell in love with him. This is what I mean when I say true love has no bounds.”

“Imogen, I am not dismissing the notion. But I doubt it will apply to me. My heart is too guarded. I don’t think I would allow myself to believe in instant love, to look upon someone and immediately know I had met the one.”

Imogen regarded him earnestly once again. “You might feel that way, but you would be too cautious ever to admit your feelings. Not that I blame you. One in your position must be careful because you are so much sought after as an earl. I’ve seen how you are plagued by schemers who only want you for your wealth and title.”

Deandra had been listening in on their conversation and now joined in. “But Imogen is not a schemer, Draco. She is true and honest.”

Draco growled low in his throat, for Deandra and her romantic ideas were the last things he needed. “Gad, don’t start that again.”

“All I am suggesting is that there is a simple way for you to find out whether Imogen is meant for you. Just kiss her on the night of a full moon and see if the moonstones shine. I’ll wager they will shine quite brightly for the two of you.”

He frowned at his young cousin. “I am not going to risk my earldom on some rocks that might or might not shine. Nor am I going to kiss Imogen.”

“They will never shine for us, Deandra,” Imogen agreed, surprising him as she joined in his defense. “You must stop pushing me at your cousin. It will not work. Both parties must be deeply in love for the moonstone lore to come true. As your cousin said, these feelings do not happen overnight.”

“It has been two full days now,” Deandra remarked. “Three if you count half-days.”

Draco laughed. “Ah, yes. An eternity in your mind.”

Deandra frowned at him. “Make fun of me all you want, but love can and does happen instantly. Oh, Imogen, do tell me more about the Moonstone Cottage ghost. Was he very handsome?”

“Yes, and Phoebe’s aunt fell in love with him.”

Deandra sighed. “That is splendid. I hope something as romantic happens to me.”

“Falling in love with a dead man is not romantic, Deandra.” Draco was desperate for an excuse to end this conversation. He already had his hands full with Driscoll’s murder and establishing a connection with the Irishman. He did not need to worry about his cousin foolishly mistaking infatuation for love and running off with some fortune-hunting wastrel while he was distracted bringing down a rebel plot.

Deandra punched him lightly in the arm. “You are impossible.”

“I am sensible,” he insisted. “Love does not happen in the blink of an eye. Lust, attraction—desire, perhaps. But love is something that must grow over time. Haven’t you heard the adage, marry in haste, repent at leisure? There is a reason it rings true. One might like the look of a person, but it is in getting to know that person beyond a superficial dance or evening’s conversation that matters most. A beautiful woman might quickly grow boring if there is little going on between her ears. Or she might have a cruel and petty nature. Or simply have nothing at all in common with you to bind you to each other. One only learns these things over time.”

He was relieved to see Imogen nodding in agreement. “Truly, Deandra. Your cousin is right. Did you not see how the ladies fluttered around him on the night of the ball? He is a handsome, wealthy, and unmarried earl. Women are going to lie and manipulate, do anything to secure his affections or simply trap him in a compromising situation. He must be extremely careful, and so should we all.”

“I still think you are a match for my cousin,” Deandra said. “Do you not feel it in your heart, Imogen? Aren’t you curious to know?”

Imogen appeared decidedly uncomfortable. “I will know when the time is right.”

Deandra stared at Draco and raised her eyebrows in silent urging.

This was laughable.

He knew what would happen if he kissed Imogen. Those moonstones would burst through the water and shine as bright as blazes. For all his talk of being careful and needing time to know who was the perfect woman for him, there was not a doubt in his mind that he was looking straight at her.

Imogen.

His heart wanted Imogen.

It did not matter that he was sensible, cautious, and a deep thinker.

It did not matter that until setting eyes on a beautiful butterfly on the night of the masquerade ball, he had not given a thought to marriage. Indeed, his thoughts until that moment were concentrated on avoiding that obligation.

Then Imogen flitted into his life, her heart exposed and so easy to crush because she was such a trusting innocent.

It wasn’t even a full moon yet. He had no idea whether the tide was high or low.

None of it mattered.

Those moonstones would shine for him and Imogen if he kissed her now.

He whistled for Parrot to come to him, then bade farewell to Burness and his wife, asked his uncle if he needed anything—which he did not, since Burness had an endless supply of books available in his library—then frowned at Imogen and Deandra, and strode off.

Parrot barked at him as they stood on the front steps waiting for his horse to be brought around.

“What?” But he knew why his dog was annoyed with him.

He strode back through the house and onto the terrace, stopping beside Imogen, who now happened to be standing alone by the balustrade still staring at the moon glowing over the water. “Deandra was particularly irritating tonight,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I know.”

“But you were wonderful, and I should not have been so abrupt with you.”

“I did not take offense.”

“Still, it was not right. I’m sorry, Imogen. I am on edge these days.”

“I understand.”

He sighed. “I wish you would not be so understanding.”

She laughed lightly. “What should I be?”

“I don’t know. Irritated? Condescending? Wanting to berate me. Huff. Pout. But that is not you, I suppose. You are too sweet, and now I feel worse for being rude to you.”

“You can make it up to me by treating us all to supper at the Kestrel Inn tomorrow.”

“That is a given. I know you invited my family, but I was not going to let you pay for any of it. In fact, I have already advised Thaddius that all is to be charged to my account. Same for Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that is so. If you are with my family, I pay.”

“Ah, then I think Deandra and I must stop by the local jeweler’s shop,” she teased. “I saw some lovely Florentine glass earrings I have been meaning to purchase for myself. But as I shall be with Deandra, I will have the owner charge them to your account. What do you say to that?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He regarded her with all sincerity. “You deserve this token of my appreciation and far more.”

She blushed. “Oh, Draco. You are no fun to tease. I am not going to let you pay for my earrings.”

“Imogen, I know you were in jest. But I am serious. I have another request of you.”

She appeared surprised. “What is it?”

“When you are in that shop with Deandra, if you see a butterfly brooch or butterfly clips for your hair, buy them for yourself along with those earrings you admire. Again, for my account. I should have thought of it sooner.”

“No, Draco.”

“Are you refusing my gifts?”

She cast him an impatient look. “They are too personal, especially the butterfly jewelry. It is merely a jest between us. Do not make it into something more.”

“In fact, I have not given it the consideration it deserves. But all right. I will not press you on the matter, since my gifts, even innocently intended, make you feel uncomfortable. Goodnight, then, Imogen.”

My butterfly.

He rode off to Woodley Lodge with Parrot loping at his side.

His butler was standing by the front door with a lamp in hand. “Good evening, my lord.”

“Evening, Wescott. Hope I did not keep you up too late.” The rest of the house was plunged in darkness, since most of the staff had retired by now.

“No, my lord.”

One of his grooms came running out of the stable to take his mount. “I have him, m’lord.”

He smiled at the lad. “Thank you, Robin.”

His entire staff was newly hired, and most were chosen upon the recommendation of the land agent, Mr. Priam. The man had done him a service, for all these new hires were attentive to their duties. The housekeeper was an older woman by the name of Mrs. Angel. No surprise there, since the village seemed overrun with Angels.

HisMrs. Angel ran a tight ship. Even his horrendous masquerade ball had been handled efficiently by her. That affair would have defeated the hardiest of souls. Not only had she handled all the preparations magnificently, but every stick of furniture moved out to make room for the crowd had already been put back in its proper place, and every piece of silverware accounted for.

He and Wescott went about closing up the house. Once that chore was completed, Draco retired to his own bedchamber. Parrot followed him upstairs, stretching out like a big, loveable lump at the foot of his bed.

Draco undressed and then washed up. He slept naked even on the coldest winter nights. This summer night was warm, and the room would have been stifling had there not been a refreshing sea breeze blowing in through the open windows. He could hear waves breaking on the distant shore like soft cannon bursts as they struck the cave hollows.

He donned his robe and crossed to the small balcony that looked out over the cove. The moon was already high, reflecting its silvery beams off the water. Imogen had said there were moonstones beneath those waters.

Deandra had been going on and on about them, about love and about his little butterfly, Imogen.

Would the moonstones really shine for him and Imogen?

Well, he knew they would.

But opening his heart to her was impossible right now. She was the sort who would risk her life to save him, and he could not allow that to happen. Keeping some distance between them was important.

But how did one stop true love? Could such a thing be scheduled? Or simply postponed as one might postpone a meeting?

Not even three full days had passed, yet his heart was completely conquered.

Indeed, it would be torn to shreds if any harm came to Imogen.

Could he strike a bargain with those moonstones? If they kept her safe, he would agree to love her. Yes, he would kiss her and he would love her. “And keep faithfully to my wedding vows,” he said aloud, as though these hidden stones could understand him.

Were the moonstones listening?