17
Col stopped the flow of the story he’d been making up for Dee…because once the carriage had speeded up, his mouth had turned so dry he couldn’t summon up enough spit to speak. And then the gunshots started.
“Papa,” Dee asked carefully, “is some bad person shooting at someone?”
Col turned his body entirely toward the rear of the carriage and curled around Dee, covering her as much as he possibly could with his own bulk.
“Yes, my sweet girl, some bad person is shooting their gun just to hear it go off.”
Col felt a wet tear roll down Dee’s cheek. He suspected she wanted to believe him, but was afraid. “Make them stop,” she pleaded. “Make them quit making those ‘pop’ noises.”
The carriage careened through a sudden set of turns and then slewed to an abrupt cessation of movement as if someone on the ground had taken control of the traces. Col had to brace his boots against the front side of the boot to keep from squashing Dee. He could hear Obadiah shouting at the team of horses before El’s guard dropped his voice to a lower, cajoling octave to calm them.
The gunshots had stopped, and all he could hear was shouting from outside the boot. He’d never so wanted to jump into the fray but had to force himself to wait. He didn’t want to expose Dee to whatever might await them outside the boot. Not yet.
Dee, cocooned in his arms, was not crying, but he could feel her small body quivering against his with fear. He squeezed her arms tightly and whispered encouragement in her ear. “We’re here, Poppet. It’s almost over.”
At a soft tap on the side of the boot, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Shortly after, he heard CB’s voice calling for footmen, and Obadiah’s rough face appeared when the boot was cracked open.
“I’ve never been so glad to see your ugly face in my life,” Col said as El’s muscular guard reached in to pull out Dee and hand her to CB before giving Col a hand down as well.
Charlotte rushed to take the weary small girl inside Aunt Camilla’s huge townhouse with George and Eugenie close behind.
“You’re welcome,” Obadiah boomed in his deep voice. “We had a near thing back there, and one of them tried to jump us behind Lady Camilla’s mews.”
“We’ve got him here,” CB filled in, and toed over the body of a dark-haired, rough-looking man with a patch over one eye. “What do you want us to do with the remains? Report the death in the morning…or…El’s river disposal?”
“If El’s men dump him in the river, he’ll just be another floater I’ll have to explain to the river police. Put him in one of the stalls overnight, and I’ll send one of Aunt Camilla’s footmen with a message to let the local JP know what happened in the morning.”
* * *
Charlotte pickedup Dee and carried her on her hip once they were inside Lady Camilla’s townhouse and followed the housekeeper to the nursery where they settled her in with a girl near her age with whom to share a bed for the night.
Another maid had shown George and Eugenie to their rooms. Charlotte supposed this “Aunt Camilla” must have a very large townhouse indeed with so many bedrooms.
Once Dee finally closed her eyes with a promise that her Papa would check on her first thing in the morning, Charlotte made her way back toward where the housekeeper awaited. “I am so sorry to keep you up at this unholy hour of the night,” she apologized.
“It’s my pleasure, Miss Smythe. One never knows what adventure to expect next in this house. And I love the children. There are always lots of lovely little ones being provided for here.” She held up a candle lantern and motioned for Charlotte to follow her.
When she finally was shown to her room for the night, she fell asleep on top of the counterpane, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.
Some hours later, Charlotte was vaguely aware of someone removing her shoes and stockings and covering her with bed linens. When the morning light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she realized with a start that Col was with her, sleeping on top of the counterpane, wrapped in the blanket he’d brought from home. Odd, after a few days with Col and his little family, their simple rooms seemed more like “home” to her than her elegant villa.
When she leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips, he awoke immediately, sat up, and took both of her hands in his. “There’s something important we have to discuss.”
She stretched and curled back onto her pillow. “Do we have to discuss something right now? Can’t whatever it is wait?”
“No. Now is better.” And with that, he pulled her to him for a more thorough kiss which took in more than just her lips.
After she was completely “mussed,” her stays in shambles, and her cheeks rosy, he dropped to his knee on the floor next to the bed. “Miss Charlotte Smythe,” he began, “would you do me the highest honor of being my wife and Miss Deidre Louise’s mother?”
“Isn’t this a little sudden?”
“No. I’ve been waiting for you all of my life.”
“In that case, I believe I’ve run out of arguments. Yes, Mr. Archer Colwyn, I will be your wife.”
“In that case, we should fortify ourselves in Aunt Camilla’s breakfast room before breaking the news to Dee.”
