“You may depend upon us, dearest,” Mama said.
A pistol glinted in her gloved hand. While she’d always been vague about how she’d acquired certain skills, Papa had told him and his siblings in confidence that she was a wartime heroine.
“James, Owen, and the rest of the guards are with me,” Ethan said tersely. “We’ll subdue the drivers first to prevent them from alerting the others?—”
The sound of gunfire jolted him.Xenia.His heart thudding, he sprinted toward the house. His approach startled the drivers, who raised their pistols, but he got a shot off first, catching one in the shoulder. Ferris picked off the other.
“I’ll take care of these two,” the guard shouted. “Go on, my lord.”
Ethan ran to the house, shouldering open the door. His jaw slackened as he took in the chaos and destruction. A brute lay groaning on the cracked marble floor, trapped under the heavy chandelier. Another was holding on for dear life near the top of the stairs, having fallen through a collapsed step. Yet another ruffian was unconscious, sprawled near the base of the staircase. He looked like he’d slipped and taken a nasty tumble down the steps; the soles of his shoes looked slick…with butter?
“This is absolute mayhem,” James muttered. “And what the devil is a chicken doing in here?”
The silver-grey hen that wandered by looked equally confused.
As the guards tied up the moaning villains, Ethan sprinted to the drawing room. The door was open, and when he entered, something wet dripped onto his cheek. He looked up and saw an empty bucket suspended by a pulley. He wiped off the droplet, sniffing it.
Linseed oil?
Terrified cries came from the corridor. Ethan and his brothers watched as two brutesin flamesran past the doorway, yelling at the top of their lungs. An instant later, a ruffian came running from the other direction, chased by a furious Brutus, who squawked angrily, attacking with his beak and spurs.
James raised his brows. “Is Mrs. Wood responsible for all this?”
They hurried into the morning room. There, a cutthroat lay unconscious: the large bump on his head looked to be caused by one of the round brown objects scattered around him.
When Owen picked up one of the lumpy projectiles, it looked oddly familiar.
“Where did Mrs. Wood find all these rocks?” he asked.
Recognition dawned. “Those aren’t rocks,” Ethan said. “Those are her buns.”
“Well, she’s creative,” Owen murmured. “You have to grant her that.”
Pride swelled in Ethan. “That’s my housekeeper.”
In case she needed rescuing, however, he dashed off to find her.
Panting, Xenia hurried through the servants’ corridor. She could hear the mayhem on the other side of the wall; her traps were working. She’d managed to give her mama the slip—literally. The butter-coated floorboards had sent her parent crashing into a wall, giving her enough time to dash into Ethan’s bedchamber. From there, she’d taken the hidden passageway. It wouldn’t take long for her mama to figure out where she’d gone, but at least she had a head start.
On the ground floor, she thought she heard sounds of fighting, and hope knocked against her ribs. Had Rawlins’s men arrived…was Ethan safe? She decided to take a risk and check. Arriving at the library, she pressed her ear against the panel. When the room seemed unoccupied, she tried to open the panel—one thing the Hirschfields hadn’t gotten around to fixing—and succeeded after several jiggles.
The library remained untouched. She crossed the room to the door; taking a breath, she cracked it open and peered into the corridor. She saw figures grappling at the far end of the hallway…it looked like Rawlins and one of her mama’s men.
Help is here.
With a surge of optimism, she looked around and grabbed a heavy volume, intending to throw it at Rawlins’s attacker. Yet as she stepped into the hallway, a shot rang out. Rawlins crumpled to the ground. Her mother stood there, smoking pistol in hand.
“Enough games, daughter,” Lady Jo hissed. “I’m going to make you pay for your misbehavior.”
Xenia ducked back into the library. She managed to get the key in the door, locking it an instant before her mother started pounding on it. She dragged a chair in front of the door as well but knew she hadn’t bought herself much time.
“Let me in, you ungrateful wretch!” her mama yelled.
Heart thrashing, Xenia dashed for the servants’ corridor…but the panel wouldn’t open. The dratted thing was jammed. She tried and tried and couldn’t yank it free.
Blooming hell.
The door shook in its frame, Lady Jo ordering her lackeys to break it down. Xenia darted around the room, looking for an escape. There wasn’t time to break one of the windows…
