Chapter 43
Harry hasn’t asked for my hand again and I have to wonder how I will feel compelled to answer when and if he does.I love him so dearly and know now that he loves me just the same.
So what is it that is holding me back?
~From the Diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh—June 1895
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“Dare I ask where weare going?”Fiona asked as he took the next street, turning left.“Shouldn’t we go to the authorities?”
“Aylesbury isn’t normally a hotbed of criminal activity.”
“You have no police?”
“None that would be of any assistance,” he grumbled, turning the team again until they were racing west out of town.“I’ll head back to the golf club.”
“Yes, the golf club,” she nodded solemnly, unpinning her hat and tossing it aside before the wind tore her hair from her head.“A stronghold for Scotland Yard.”
Aylesbury shot her a dry look but, from the corner of his eye, caught sight of their pursuer on horseback nearly drawing even with them on her side.Trying to run Crumpky off the road with the phaeton would do no good.Such a high-sprung contraption would tip easily enough without such provocation.
A sharp crack sounded.The bastard was shooting at them!To her credit, Fiona didn’t scream as a typical female might.She did, however, string out a number of profanities.“Bloody hell,” he muttered one of his own, transferring the reins into one hand and leaning forward to open the tack box fastened to the floor by their feet.“Thank God!”
When he pulled out a long-barreled revolver, she gaped at him.“A gun?How on earth did you know there would be a gun in there?”
“It’s where I keep mine.Most men with a gig like this carry them just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Robbery.”He shrugged.“Situations like this.”
“Dear Lord.”She sighed, reaching into the tack box to pull out the small silver flask she spotted there among the other tack.Uncapping it, she tilted back her head and took a swallow with a wince.“Ugh, that’s dreadful.”She took another swallow.
Their circumstances bordered on the dire, Aylesbury reminded himself.He shouldn’t be enjoying such a misplaced sense of amusement.
Another shot buzzing by over their heads properly sobered him.Twisting about, he leveled the pistol at the horseman.Unfortunately, the action also sent the phaeton veering left a, the well-trained horses sensitive to even the lightest pressure on the reins.They careened from side to side before Aylesbury steadied their pace once more.With another curse, he tried again to aim but the shot he needed, turning far enough to shoot from behind her back, again threw off his balance.
“For Heaven’s sake, Harry!Give me the gun,” she yelled over the pounding of the hooves when he was once again unsuccessful in getting off a shot.
He shot her a dubious look, and she rolled her eyes.“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry!Either give me the reins or hand over that pistol before either he kills us, or you do.”
Still, he shook his head.“You might have forgotten, but I cannot forget you’re a lady.”
“I was raised by and among ten brothers who taught me everything they know.There’s a good chance I might be more of a man than you, Harry Brudenall!”
Insanely, he couldn’t help the grin that leapt to his lips as he looked at her.Just as madly, Fiona grinned back until a high-pitched whistle marked another bullet as it whizzed by.They both unconsciously hunched their shoulders as if that would help either one of them if a bullet struck its mark.
“Bloody hell!I’m not some wilting lily,” she shouted.“Give me the pistol or the bloody reins!One or the other!”
While he wasn’t sure of her skills with the ribbons, he had no doubt she was a good shot.Reluctantly, he handed her the gun, steadying the horses with both hands so she could aim.She brushed her wind-blown hair from her eyes and sighted the gun but didn’t take the shot.
Crumpky had no such difficulties.Another shot sounded, and he yelled, “Shoot, Fiona!”
