The brutes smiled evilly as they cornered Mr. Bailey. But Xenia couldn’t help him, her own focus on the rapidly advancing Harlow. She gripped her makeshift projectile, ready to pelt him again…
Splat.
A tomato caught him in the face, exploding with juicy red gusto.
Stunned, she turned and saw Mr. Pickleworth standing close by.
The greengrocer lifted his brows. “I told you the tomatoes were ripe.”
Beside him, his wife Loretta held a cabbage the size of a cannonball. “Don’t make me use this,” she called.
Harlow bared his teeth, advancing.
“Stand back,” Xenia said to the pair.
She threw the potato, and Harlow ducked. He grinned, then yelped as something slammed into his jaw, knocking him to the ground. A rock?
Turning, Xenia saw Mr. Khan, who gave her a nod of support…and he wasn’t alone. Mrs. Pettigrew, Mrs. Sommers, Mr. Duffield, and a dozen other villagers were there, all armed with makeshift weapons. Mrs. Thornton wielded a cast-iron frying pan while her husband carried a cricket bat. Similarly equipped residents of Chuddums had gathered behind Mr. Bailey as well. The two brutes backed away, helping their leader to his feet. The Corrigans were surrounded.
Harlow looked wildly around the circle of resolute faces. “You are going to pay for this! No one crosses the Corrigans.”
“Leave our village,” someone shouted. “We don’t welcome the likes o’ you!”
The words became a war cry, and suddenly the crowd began to chant.
“Leave Chuddums! Leave Chuddums!”
Harlow’s eyes darted, and like the bully he was, he knew when he was beaten. He fled, followed by his lackeys, the three of them stumbling and running as the townsfolk chased them out of the village green.
When the last Corrigan disappeared from sight, a wild cheer erupted.
“Well, my dear.”
Xenia spun around to see Lady Blackwood. Her footmen had their weapons drawn, eyes scanning the square. But there was only the boisterous celebration of ordinary folk discovering their own power.
“Have you completed your errands?” the marchioness inquired. “Or do you have other villains to expunge?”
Now that the peril was over, Xenia felt dazed. “I’m done.”
“Splendid. If the men return in time from Cookham, we can all reconvene for tea.” Lady Blackwood looped an arm through Xenia’s, adding in a confiding tone, “I must skip the scones, however, having overindulged in Mrs. Pettigrew’s delectable pudding.”
ChapterThirty-Two
“He’s here.” Terror flooded her. “Please, you have to let me go?—”
“No,” her beloved said. “I will protect you.”
“You can’t,” she said miserably. “No one can.”
“Go and hide where I showed you. You know how to get in.”
“I can’t leave you.” A sob hitched in her throat. “I’m scared…scared of the darkness.”
“Don’t be afraid, my love. Darkness can be a sanctuary.”
“Youare my sanctuary,” she whispered. “I cannot lose you.”
“Don’t come out until I tell you it is safe.” He kissed her. “Trust me, my darling Rose.”
