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reached the stable.
    “He’s been frisky all day, Miss Rosalind,” Thomas said in a gravelly whisper.  “Knowed he’d be going out for a run tonight, he did.”
    Rubbing the length of the chestnut’s velvety nose, Rosalind smiled at the old man who’d taught her to ride.  “It amazes me how well he can move in the dark.”
    “He’s a savvy one, all right,” replied Thomas while giving her a hand up so she could put her left foot in the stirrup, then throw her other leg over the horse’s back.  When she’d first enlisted the help of c ertain staff members at Ashford Hall, Thomas had loudly voiced his disapproval.  First, he’d stated that he’d never knew a lady to ride astride.  To compound the insult, she’d feared he have an apoplexy when she asked him to teacher her how.   But like everyone else, once Thomas understood she meant to proceed with her plan with or without his help, he did all he could to aid and abet his mistress.  In fact, every member of the Hall’s staff had helped in some way to save the lives of brave Englishmen fighting this war.
    “Ready Miss,” Thomas said and then mounted a sturdy sorrel. 
    Rosalind nodded and put her heel to Devon’s flank, and together, they took off at a trot across the fields to the woods behind the Hall toward the cliffs.  They rode in silence, keeping a watchful eye out for strangers. 
    After following a small path long the cliff, Rosalind drew in the reins where the descent to the beach wasn’t so steep.  Guiding Devon down a barely discernable path that led to the water, Rosalind allowed the chestnut to pick his own way, with hooves crunching on small pebbles.   Behind her, she heard Thomas’s sorrel following.
    They rode along the beach for a quarter of a mile until they saw the Arrow with several men standing about at the edge of the surf.  Rosalind pulled Devon into a small out crop of brushes and rocks at the base of the cliff.
    “Just tie Devon up in these trees tomorrow night, Thomas.  No need for you to lose any sleep.”
    “I hope I knows my job, Miss,” Thomas grumbled, but not unkindly.  “Me and Devon’ll be here waiting for you like always.”  Though they had the same conversation numerous times, Rosalind always left feeling guilty keeping the old man from his bed.  But she also knew he’d have it no other way.  “And you be careful, Miss,” he added.  “ If not them revenuers, no tellin’ what rapscallion might be out with a moon like this.”
    Giving him a brigh t smile, she handed him the reins, then turned and walked toward the small sea craft, feeling Thomas’s gaze at her back.  She knew he wouldn’t leave until Tolly was at her side. 
    M oments later, the huge man separated himself from the others and was at her elbow.  Without a word, he picked her up and tossed her into the lugger, a wide-beamed boat with two sails.  As she nimbly stepped around the lines and sails to take a seat close to the bow, she saw that the Earl was not yet aboard and waited patiently for Tolly to give the signal to the other four men to push the craft into the water. 
    Several minutes passed , and Rosalind wondered at the delay until she was a tall figure strolling down the beach.  Despite the woolen cap and workman clothes he wore, she recognized the broad shouldered gentleman as the one she’d encountered in the woods collecting herbs. 
    “You’re late.”  Tolly’s tone was gruff.  Rosalind knew he tolerated no nonsense.  Obviously, as a new crew member his lordship would learn the hard way.
    “Blasted females,” Melvyrn said in a half whisper.  “Lady Chadlington and her simpering daughter happened by so one of their horses could throw a shoe at my front gate.”
    No more was said, but Rosalind could tell by his movements that Melvyrn was still angry over whatever theatrics Sylvia had pulled.  She couldn’t help smiling to herself, for she was glad the Earl thought Sylvia foolish. 
    Tolly introduced