to follow him from the room, her annoyance plain in her posture and the way she swept her skirt up in her hand and threw back her head.
Ash watched her go, smiling a little, then turned back to Lord Borrowdale. ‘Miss Kingslake is naturally upset. She is very fond of her cousin and cannot understand why he was taken up in the first place.’
‘He was with the smugglers. Good God, man! If I let off every young varmint whose females swore his innocence, no one would ever be arrested. How can you be sure she is telling the truth?’
‘I cannot,’ Ash admitted. ‘But if I could talk to the boy, I am sure I should learn something from him. I would deem it a favour if you would give him into my custody. I will undertake to see that he is dealt with according to the law.’
‘And what is your interest in smugglers? Not a Revenue man, are you?’
‘No.’ Ash smiled. ‘Have you ever heard of the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club, my lord?’
‘No. Are they a band of smugglers?’
He laughed. ‘No, on the contrary, they are gentlemen dedicated to upholding the law of the land. They have been doing it for the last twelve years. I am one of them. We brought the O’Keefe gang of coiners to justice and the murderers, Black, Randle and Smith, not to mention putting a stop to a possible Jacobite rebellion. Wherever we see crime, particularly organised crime, we investigate it and bring the perpetrators to book.’
‘Don’t the Bow Street Runners do that?’
‘To a certain extent, yes, but their force is small, their resources limited, and they rarely operate outside London. We are a roving band and go where we are needed and we have access to people and places denied to the Runners.’
‘I understand that, but why Piccadilly?’
‘The headquarters of the Society is there at Lord Trentham’s home. You may check my credentials with his lordship, if you wish. As a member of the government he is particularly interested in combatting smuggling.’
‘But you are asking me to release one of my prisoners—surely not the action of a law-abiding citizen?’
‘Into my custody.’ Ash smiled again. His face was stiff with smiling. ‘I intend to make a friend of the boy through his cousin. By gaining his trust, I might find out more. Where are the prisoners being held?’
‘I had them in the Customs House overnight, but this morning I sent them under guard to Norwich gaol. They will be safer there than anywhere until the Assizes in Thetford later this month.’
Ash understood him to mean safe from being set free by their friends. ‘Then I must go to Norwich. Will you furnish me with a letter ordering Benjamin Whiteside’s release into my custody? It will save me having to explain myself all over again. The fewer people who know my intentions the better.’
‘And Miss …’ his lordship waved his hand in the general direction of the door ‘… Miss Whatshername—does she know your purpose?’
‘Miss Kingslake. No, she does not. She went to Sir Felix Markham for help when I was there and I offered to do what I could to bring about the release of her cousin.’
‘Then I hope she is suitably grateful.’
‘Oh, I am sure she will be,’ he said lightly, perfectly aware of his lordship’s meaning.
His lordship left the room and came back a few minutes later, waving a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘Here you are. And I hope I may not live to regret this.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Ash took the paper, checked the wording and signature and folded it before putting it in his pocket and bowing his way out.
Pippa was in the carriage, impatiently drumming her fingers on the door edge, when he returned and gave orders for the coachman to proceed. ‘Well?’ she demanded as soon as he had settled in his seat beside her. ‘What happened? Where is Ben? Is he to be released?’
‘Your cousin has been sent to Norwich Castle to await the Assizes and, yes, he is to be released into my custody.’
‘Then we must go to Norwich at once.’
‘No, Miss Kingslake, we cannot go at once. It is becoming late and we should need to stay in Norwich overnight. Even you must realise the impropriety of that. I am going to take you home and acquaint Mrs Whiteside of our progress so far, then I shall go and fetch your young cousin tomorrow. It won’t hurt him to have a taste of prison for a night or two.’
‘Then you will quiz him all the way home, I suppose. You will be wasting your time. He knows nothing.’
‘Then he has nothing to fear.’
‘Have you no heart?’ she demanded.
‘Oh, yes, my dear. My heart beats as everyone’s does. Here.’ Before she could stop him he had grabbed her hand and laid it flat over his heart, where she felt its solid beating beneath her palm. It had a strange effect on her own heartbeat, which suddenly became erratic and unduly loud, as if to prove it was every bit as efficient as his. It took her breath away and, for a moment, she could neither move nor speak. She was hurtled back in time, to the days before Edward Cadogan turned his back on her. He had made the same gesture to prove his constancy. ‘Two hearts beating as one,’ he had said. And what an empty gesture that had been! She would not succumb again. She would not! She pulled her hand away and made a pretence of fumbling for her handkerchief in the pocket of her cloak.
‘Allow me,’ he said, handing her his own pristine square of cambric. She took it and squeezed it into a ball in her fist. She did not speak, not even to thank him.
They journeyed in silence for several minutes but they could not go all the way to Narbeach without speaking; the atmosphere was tense enough without that. ‘Let us call a truce,’ he said. ‘After all, we both want the same thing—freedom for your cousin, the end of crime and bloodshed. And a peaceful life. Do you not agree?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
He held out his hand. ‘Then let us shake hands on it.’
She took his hand. It was warm and dry and his grip firm. ‘I am sorry, Sir Ashley. It is only my anxiety that makes me flare up,’ she said. ‘I do it far too often. It is all on account of my hair …’
‘Your hair?’ he queried, ‘What has your hair to do with it?’
‘It is red,’ she said.
He pretended to study it. ‘So it is,’ he agreed mildly.
‘Red hair is supposed to denote a quick temper,’ she said. ‘I am afraid, in my case, it is true. It is also said to be unlucky. Some people of a superstitious nature turn away from me. Some go as far as to say it is the mark of the devil and cross themselves.’
‘Then they are ignorant bigots.’
‘Are you married?’ she asked suddenly.
‘No.’
‘I’ll wager you would not marry a red-haired woman.’
‘My
