“Kitchen door,” he told her as he arrowed through the trees.

  “Castles have kitchen doors?” she asked, following him.

  “This one does.” He veered across the grass toward the tall stone structure rising out of the mist, then paused to rap at the stout oak door.

  Mrs. Hillers, the earl’s cook, answered his knock herself, scowl on her face. It evaporated the moment she saw Quill, and her hand flew to the wisps of brown hair sticking out from beneath her cap. “Oh, Captain St. Claire. How can I be helping you today?”

  “Here to visit the caverns, Mrs. Hillers,” he told her, stepping inside and drawing Ree with him. “Would you be so kind as to send someone for Mr. Jonas, Pierson, and Dawson? Mademoiselle Fortier and I might need a little help.”

  Her eyes widened, but she scuttled back from the door and began barking orders to her assistants.

  Quill led Ree over to a door in the wall, opening it and reaching for the lantern that hung inside.

  “You won’t be needing that,” Mrs. Hillers called. “His lordship asked that we keep torches lit below. Someone checks them at each turning of the tide.”

  Of course they would. “Then we’ll just head down. Should anyone but us come up these stairs, hit them with your heaviest pan.”

  She saluted him. “Aye, Captain.”

  “Does everyone obey your commands?” Ree asked, laughter in her voice as they started down the stone steps.

  “Everyone but you,” he said. “We’ll have to work on that when this is over.”

  ~~~

  Tease. He knew very well she wasn’t the sort to obey. Ree couldn’t see his face as he went before her down the narrow stone steps that curved below the Castle, but she was certain he was smiling.

  Her amusement, however, dwindled with each step. They could not know what they were facing below. Hugh had claimed only one Frenchman had come on Napoleon’s orders, but the bosun had proven himself a liar. What if more waited in the caves? What if this Darnell was better armed than they thought? She pulled her hairpin from her bun and held it at the ready with one hand while the other kept her skirts lifted as they descended.

  They came out in a vast emptiness, the ground littered by rocks that must have fallen from the cavern roof above the reach of the light. The shush of waves against the shore was echoed in the stillness. At the farthest edge of her vision, she spotted a boat, waiting.

  “What now?” she whispered, and the words called back to her.

  Quill moved into the center of the vastness, spread his hands, and turned slowly in a circle. “You wanted me. I am here. Come for me if you will.”

  He was power personified, ready to take on the world and tame it to do his bidding. But the only answer to his challenge was the echo of his words against the rocks.

  He dropped his hands. “It was too much to hope.”

  She understood. As glad as she was that no one had tried to harm him, she would have liked this ordeal to be over. They returned to the stairs and climbed back up to the kitchen.

  The dark-haired butler and two of his footmen met them at the door.

  “Everything all right, Captain?” Mr. Jonas asked, glancing beyond them as if expecting to see half of Napoleon’s forces pounding after them.

  “Alas, all is well,” Quill told him. “Remain vigilant.”

  The butler nodded. “Aye, Captain.”

  The cook watched him with worshipful eyes until they were out the door.

  The fog was beginning to rise as they left the Castle. Ree could see more of the grounds, including the edge of the cliff, where it dropped off to the sea. A shadow stepped into the light.

  She caught Quill’s arm to stop him, heart thudding against her ribs. “There,” she whispered. “Look. Could that be our man?”

  He seemed shorter and slighter than Darnell, but there was no doubt he was surveying the village, for he had a spyglass to his eye. Quill motioned her into the shade of the Castle, and they crept closer.

  One hundred yards, fifty. The swirling mists still hid his face from her view. All she could see was the tricorn hat, the stocky body swathed in a black cloak. But as he lowered the glass, he uttered a sentence she would never forget.

  “C’est impossible.”

  Ree sucked in a breath. “Quill, is that…?” She could not say the name.

  In answer, Quill drew his cutlass and strode out of hiding. “Stop!” he ordered. “In the name of King George!”

  The fellow turned to eye him, and Ree was certain. She’d seen the likeness too many times, sometimes in caricatures, sometimes in drawings that made it through to the War Office. Boney. The Corsican monster. The devil’s favorite. Before she could cry out, another figure dove from the bushes and struck Quill down.

  “Vite!” Darnell shouted at the other man, following the command with a string of rapid French as he wrestled to keep Quill down.

  The first man disappeared into the fog.

  Ree ran to Quill’s side, but the Frenchman had already released him. Pulling back, he raised both hands above his head. “Je me rends. I surrender!”

  Quill circled behind him, gaze veering from the man who had caused him so much trouble to where the other fellow had stood moments before. “Where is he?”

  “You will not catch him,” Darnell predicted. “He did not come alone.”

  That was what she feared. She hurried to the edge of the cliff, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of the ships that must be laying at anchor just below. French voices echoed through the fog. The sound was like an icy wave, dousing her.

  “Is it an invasion?” Quill demanded of their quarry. “How many? Where do they intend to land?”

  “Here,” Darnell said. “Your village is in peril, but I am free. I saved the emperor’s life. He will not allow me to be harmed now.”

  “The War Office may have a different opinion,” Quill said. He pressed his cutlass into the Frenchman’s back. “Lord Howland has a storeroom with a stout lock that has gone to good use previously. Let’s avail ourselves of it again.” He looked to Ree. “Then let’s save our village and England.”

  ~~~

  They had climbed the path to the Castle alone and concerned, but Ree and Quill returned with determined partners. Mr. Jonas, two footmen, Lord Howland’s valet, his coachman, and the stable hands, all carrying swords or pikes from the Castle armory, followed them down into the village. The fog still clung tenaciously to the sides of the headlands, leaving the streets of Grace-by-the-Sea in a grey mist. Through it came cries and the clash of metal on metal. Quill broke into a run. Ree and his guard followed.

  She sighted no one on Castle Walk or the upper part of High Street. But as they swept toward the cove, scenes loomed out of the mist for a moment, only to disappear again.

  A French soldier, crouched and cowering as Mrs. Rinehart pummeled him with a wooden hat stand outside the door of Beautiful Bonnets.

  Mr. Carroll, sword extended, leading the charge across High Street against three other soldiers, Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Treacle, the tailor, at his back.

  Maudie, who must have escaped the spa, chasing a soldier away from Mr. Guthrie.

  The Misses Pierce, dashing around a captain of the Imperial Guard as they wrapped his arms to his sides with scarlet silk.

  Ree had traded her hairpin for a cutlass from the Castle. Quill drew his first but pulled up short when Abigail Bennett popped up in front of them. With her were Gideon, Elizabeth, and many of the ladies of Grace-by-the-Sea, who must make up the Women’s Militia.

  “These were the first to land,” Abigail told Quill and Ree. “We have them in hand, but more are coming into the cove. Can you help us stop them from landing?”

  Quill saluted her with his cutlass. “At your command, General.”

  “This way.”

  Together, they marched through the swirling mist to the cove, where they found Ike, Lord Featherstone, the Admiral, Jesslyn’s husband, the earl, Mr. Greer, Mr. Ellison, and many of the Men’s Militia there ahead of them. They were all gazing out at the cove, where boats rode serenely at anchor, their creak like the sound of frogs in a lilypond.

  Then the fog parted to reveal the prows of longboats, their occupants like ghosts in the grey. Three boats at least, with a half dozen or more soldiers at the ready. Ree tensed.

  Larkin Denby nodded to her, Quill, and Abigail. “We can’t allow them to land.”

  Abigail squared her shoulders. “We know how to deal with French boats.” She turned to her ladies. “Bigger rocks this time and anything else that might sink the boats or at least prevent the soldiers from raising their guns. Partner with a gentleman if need be.”

  Quill brightened. “Brilliant.” He looked to the few men who were armed with pistols. “Aim for the waterline. Poke as many holes as you can. We’ll deal with the few who make it ashore.”

  They fanned out along the edge of the cove. The proprietor of the Mermaid Inn must have been watching, for he brought out crates, jugs, and even the refuse from the previous evening. Soon, projectiles rained down on the French boats, and yelps and curses echoed across the water. One of the boats rocked so hard, it was only a matter of time before it dumped its passengers in the water.

  “We’re winning,” she told Quill.

  From out on the Channel came the roar of a cannon.

  Everyone froze. Quill looked to Ree, then narrowed his gaze on the opening between the two arms of the headlands. Ree stepped closer to him, ready to defend the home she had found, the friends she had made, and the man she loved.

  “They’re leaving!” someone shouted.

  Ree stared into the rising fog. The French boats had reversed course and were easing their way out of the cove.

  “They’re turning tail!” Ike crowed.

  “Let’s not be hasty, Mr. Bascom,” Quill said, hooded eyes focused on their retreating foes. “Mr. Williams, check the headland. One shot if they’re regrouping, two if they’re weighing anchor.”

  “Aye,” his man said before scrambling down the shore for the openings to the cove.

  “We’ll see if anyone needs help in the village,” Mr. Denby said, and he took a group of the Men’s Militia with him. Abigail nodded, and several of her ladies peeled off to join them.

  Ike turned to Quill. “Let’s take the ship. The Siren’s Call can chase them all the way back to France.”

  Quill’s face was grim. “You assume that shot we heard didn’t catch her amidships.”

  Ree’s stomach clenched. She wrapped one arm around her middle.

  A shot rang out from the headland, and every gaze turned to where Arnie Williams stood silhouetted against a pale blue sky, the last of the mist swirling around him like an opera cloak. He raised his arm, and a second shot sounded, echoing across the cove.

  Cheers erupted.

  Abigail smiled.

  Lord Featherstone and the Admiral clapped each other on the back.

  Richard Catchpole embraced his wife.

  Elizabeth Peverell and Gideon Archer exchanged a kiss.

  And Quill swept Ree into his arms and held her a moment before pressing his lips to hers. Joy overflowed.

  At length, he released her to gaze down at her with shining eyes. “Mr. Bascom,” he said. “Go check the Siren. Stop by the magistrate’s house on the way and let him know the French agent is confined in the Castle. I’ll give him a full report later.”

  Ike saluted. “Aye, Captain.” He glanced to Elizabeth. “With your permission, ma’am.”

  “Go,” Elizabeth said, one arm about Gideon’s waist.

  “We should tell Jess as well,” Abigail said.

  “We’ll go,” Ree offered. “I want to thank her for what she did.” She looked around at all the earnest faces. “For what you all did.”

  Mr. Greer remained gazing out at the now empty sea. “It may not be over yet. They could return, in greater numbers next time.”

  Everyone sobered except Ree and Quill.

  “No,” Ree told him. “The threat is over, at least at Grace-by-the-Sea. Napoleon himself has deemed it impossible. He knows he cannot land at Grace-by-the-Sea. The village is safe.”

  They stared at her, looks ranging from incredulous to thankful. She no longer cared if any doubted. She knew the truth. She took Quill’s hand and tugged him toward the spa.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was over. The phrase kept repeating in Quill’s mind as Ree led him toward the spa. The fog had completely burned off, and sun anointed the rooftops in gold. Here and there, their friends and neighbors were setting things to rights. He heard more than one visitor remark that Pirate’s Plunder had been even more enjoyable than usual.

  “Adding players dressed like French soldiers was inspired,” one lady was saying to Mr. Carroll as they passed.

  “It seems Jess will not have to worry about the village’s reputation being tarnished,” Ree said with a smile. “Of course, we must tell the War Office.”

  Quill nodded. “In good time. Right now, I simply want to enjoy our good fortune.” Indeed, they had much for which to be thankful. The assassin was caught, the village was safe. Time to think about the future.

  “Will you continue to play your dangerous game?” Ree asked as if she had been thinking along the same lines. “What is it they call you, the Lord of the Smugglers?”

  He could not tell if her voice held concern or interest.

  “Shh,” he warned, drawing her closer as they approached the spa. “No one knows the identity of the Lord of the Smugglers. But I imagine he will continue plying his trade, so long as the tyrant threatens England. Any lady interested in engaging his interest would have to make peace with that.”

  She slanted him a glance through her smoky lashes. “Make peace with it? Stay home and tend the house? No, no, mon capitaine. Any lady worthy of his interest would want to go with him.”

  Quill smiled. “In that case, Mademoiselle Fortier, I have a proposal for you, and I’d like to make it in front of everyone.”

  He strode into the spa as he would have stalked the quarterdeck. Any other day, the rumpled coat and the cutlass at his hip would have raised questions. Today, Jesslyn, Maudie, Doctor Bennett, Mr. Guthrie, and the other spa guests were gathered around the Welcome Desk, excitedly discussing everything that had happened. Maudie must have brought the news, accurately this time, he hoped, though none of her stories seemed so far-fetched after what he’d seen.

  He took Ree’s hand and led her to the center of the room, then went down on one knee.

  “Quill?” she asked, and, for the first time, there was vibrato in her beautiful voice.

  He took both her hands in his, aware that all gazes were turning their direction. Conversations stuttered to a stop until he could hear the mineral water splashing in the stone fountain.

  “Marie-Louise Fortier,” he said, projecting as he did when he spoke to his crew. “More than two weeks ago, I asked you to marry me, and you agreed. We, neither of us, were entirely sincere. I tell you now in all sincerity that I have fallen in love, deeply and forever. I wondered why none of the marvelous ladies of Grace-by-the-Sea had touched my heart. Now I know. My heart was waiting for you.”

  Tears were gathering in her dark eyes. He pushed on.

  “I haven’t always been the most respectable of gentlemen, but I promise you I will never stray from your side, though war and famine and pestilence may come.”

  “How soon?” he heard Maudie ask. He focused on Ree. “I will cheer for you, cry with you, laugh with you, and love you, all the days of my life. Two weeks of the banns have been read. Once they are read this Sunday, nothing will stand in the way of our nuptials. So, I ask you again. Will you marry me?”

  Every person in the crowded spa seemed to be holding a breath.

  “Yes, Quill,” she said. “I will marry you. I didn’t intend to fall in love when I came to Grace-by-the-Sea, but then, I didn’t expect to find the one man I never dreamed existed. The man who knew the way to my heart.”

  She bent and feathered a kiss across his lips, so sweet, so true. He rose and pulled her into his arms.

  Once more, cheers erupted. Far away, he heard someone ask, “But I thought they were already betrothed.”

  “It’s all right,” Maudie said soothingly. “I’ll explain everything.”

  Someone should. He was far too busy showing his Siren how well she had captivated this captain.

  Nearby, someone had the audacity to clear his throat. Arms around Ree, Quill spared him a scowl. Mr. Guthrie pressed his palms together as if praying for Quill’s patience. Then he too raised his voice.

  “Dear friends,” he called, “and I dare to call you that though we have only known each other a short time. Never have I felt more welcome. Never did I think at my age and station in life to find a lady so well versed in my chosen course of study, so fervent in her beliefs.”

  He edged closer to where Maudie was regarding him with narrowed eyes, as if she could see right through him. “My dear Mrs. Tully, Maudlyn, you are everything I could have dreamed of in a partner for life. I know you doubt my veracity, but I can explain. You see, all this time, I have been writing about and drawing the little people of the north. I need your vision to better see and understand their brothers and sisters here in the south. Dare I hope, dare I dream, that you would be willing to join me in this endeavor, as my wife?”

  Maudie regarded him a moment more, then snapped a nod. “Yes, Dennis. Someone should.”

  Babbling with delight, he enfolded her in his arms.

  Someone began applauding, and the sound circled the room. It seemed Quill wasn’t the only one who had found home.

  ~~~

  By the time the applause died down, Ree found her equilibrium. Still, she gazed up at Quill. This time, she knew, her besotted look was no act.

  “I have a lovely purple dress,” Maudie said, wandering closer, her fingers entwined with Mr. Guthrie’s. “I wore it as attendant when Eva married the magistrate.”