Ellen smiled warmly. “I would be honored.”
Aaron caught Christopher’s eye and arched a faintly amazed brow.
Christopher smiled, glanced toward the desk, and saw Toby staring assessingly at Ellen, patently impressed. Deciding that reasserting control of the situation would be wise, Christopher turned to his unexpected visitor. “But what brings you here?”
She glanced at the desk. “I was exercising my mare and checking the repairs to the hedgerow where the goats got through, and saw Aaron and Gracella walking up the manor drive.” She flashed a smile at the pair, then looked at Christopher. “I assumed you must be planning something.” Her gaze moved to the map on the desk, and she walked across to study it.
Christopher inwardly sighed and followed; better he tell her what was going on than risk having her act on her own. “We’re organizing a watch on Goffard Hall.”
The others gathered around again, and Gracella joined them as he refocused the group on how best to keep track of all comings and goings at Goffard Hall.
Toby, meanwhile, was taking careful stock of the most recent arrival. To his experienced eyes, despite her frilly and distracting appearance—and he had to wonder if the distraction was intentional—Miss Martingale ranked as a formidable lady. She didn’t look like one, not in the least, but he knew too many members of the sorority to be fooled.
The more intriguing observation was that Christopher knew the same formidable ladies, yet there he was, accepting Miss Martingale’s interest in their mission, effectively including her in it.
Toby concluded, and he felt sure he was correct, that Miss Martingale was Christopher’s lady. The one he’d chosen…or at least, had fixed upon.
Toby wondered if he should write to his elder sister, Prudence, and inform her that her fear that Christopher would end his days a crusty old bachelor was likely to prove groundless.
As if Christopher could hear his thoughts, he cast Toby a narrow-eyed glance, then returned to finalizing their plans for mounting the necessary watch on Goffard Hall.
Toby wasn’t surprised to hear Miss Martingale as well as the gypsy matriarch put forward suggestions as to how their watchers might conceal themselves, in some cases in plain sight.
Christopher accepted and incorporated Ellen’s and Gracella’s ideas, such as Ellen pointing out that given the gypsies’ history in the area, no one would think it strange to see several of their number trimming hedgerows or wielding scythes to neaten the edges of fields. “Any of those little tasks that, I’m reliably informed, estate managers would like to see done, but often have to let slide.”
Gracella added, “We could send some of the younger ones—those too young to be included in the work teams that help the farmers. They have sharp eyes and ears, and they will think it a lark—a game to play—and so concentrate all the more.”
Ellen nodded. “They would very likely be the most effective watchers.”
All agreed that with the help of the gypsies, mounting a tight watch on Goffard Hall would be relatively easily accomplished.
After specific men were assigned to each observation point and period of the day, with the gypsies taking responsibility for monitoring the front of the house day and night, the meeting finally broke up. As the others left, Christopher asked Ellen to remain, then went out to farewell Aaron and Gracella.
On returning to the library, he discovered Ellen and Toby sitting in the armchairs, with Ellen explaining where she lived and how she had come to meet Christopher. He closed the door with a definite snick, attracting their attention.
Ellen smiled at him; Toby grinned and quirked his brows in a knowing way.
Christopher would have scowled at his cousin, but then he would have to explain that reaction to Ellen. Instead, he walked to the armchair next to hers, drawing her gaze from Toby, sat, and said, “There’s been a development.”
She arched her brows. “One that necessitates placing a watch on Goffard Hall?”
“Indeed.” Briefly, Christopher explained about the large shipment of counterfeit notes presently on its way. “Ultimately to be delivered into Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s hands.”
“I see.” She fell silent for several moments, then said, “I’ll speak to Hopper about keeping watch along our shared boundary. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” She met Christopher’s eyes. “But in return, I would ask—”
Christopher steeled himself to reject any suggestion of her joining the watchers.
“—that you keep me apprised of any result—of whoever is caught with the notes.” She held his gaze in a forthright way. “My brother is one of the young gentlemen being taken advantage of by this scheme. I would like to know if there’s liable to be any developments that might pose a danger to him.”
Given what he’d imagined she would ask for, Christopher was happy to agree. Having done so, he looked at Toby, who had been listening to the exchange all too avidly. “So it seems we have the most critical point in the distribution of the notes covered.”
Toby’s gaze shifted to Ellen.
When Toby arched his brows, Christopher followed Toby’s gaze and saw that Ellen was frowning. “What?” Christopher asked.
“It’s just that”—she grimaced faintly—“it’s ten days to the next card party.” She glanced at Toby. “Mrs. Kirkpatrick has been holding them every second Friday, and the most recent was last week.” She returned her gaze to Christopher. “There’s nothing to say that the notes will be delivered to Mrs. Kirkpatrick soon. Depending on the arrangements in place, whoever currently has the notes might hold back until closer to the date. As that person is presently unknown to us and has no reason not to believe themselves safe, there’s no need for any urgency on their part to pass on the notes, is there?”
Christopher was forced to concede the point with a reluctant nod.
Toby looked thoughtful. “You’re right.”
“So…”—Ellen drew out the word—“while maintaining the watch on Goffard Hall, what else can we do to locate the smuggler or intermediary who, according to your information, currently holds the counterfeit notes?”
Christopher registered her use of “we,” and if the smile Toby tried to suppress was any guide, so had he.
“That,” Toby said, “is an excellent question.” He looked pointedly at Christopher.
Ellen also fixed her gaze on his face.
He met her eyes, then Toby’s, then reluctantly admitted, “I know people we can ask about any recent smuggling activity.”
Ellen beamed. “Excellent!”
Toby grinned.
Seated beside Christopher in his curricle, Ellen smiled delightedly as they bowled down the Bigfield House drive.
It was early afternoon, and the sun was shining, the air redolent with the scent of hay being scythed in nearby fields.
Christopher slowed as the mouth of the drive drew near, and expertly turned the carriage right. He drove his pair—two gorgeous chestnuts—at a smart clip down Walkhurst Road, toward Benenden village.
Ellen lifted her face to the light breeze, closed her eyes, and all but floated on contentment. She was pleased to have been included in the planning session that morning and even happier to have been able to contribute useful suggestions.