His fierce authority transformed the men from a mob to soldiers under discipline. Callie’s captor released her and backed away, sputtering, “Yourwife? But . . . but she said she’s a widow!”
Keeping his pistol pointed at the corporal, who seemed to be the leader, Gordon stepped up to Callie and crushed her to him with his free arm as he murmured into her hair, “Play along with me, Catkin!”
As he’d hoped, using his private nickname convinced her it really was her old friend. Her rigid figure softened and she wrapped her arms around him as she cried, “Dear God in heaven, my love, I thought you were dead!”
She dissolved into wrenching sobs. He was pleased to see that her embrace didn’t interfere with his grip on the pistol. Callie had always had the quickest wits in Lancashire. Her silky hair was scented with smoke and lavender.
One arm circling her waist, he gazed over her head—they used to be close to the same height—and gave the soldiers his most furiously intimidating gaze. “I’m Lord George Audley and I have been separated from my wife because I was risking my life on the king’s business. It’s an utteroutrageto find her being mauled by British soldiers! I might have expected that of Americans, but royal soldiers? You’re a disgrace to the uniform you wear!”
The corporal stammered, “Sorry, sir, but there was an attack from her house. Killed General Ross’s horse, wounded several men. When we broke in to find the shooters, she was holding a pistol and looked like she knew what to do with it.”
“The pistol I gave you to defend yourself, sweetheart?” he asked, keeping his gaze and his weapon fixed on the corporal.
Callie nodded and pulled away a little. “Yes,” she said in a trembling voice, “but I didn’t fire it. One shot wouldn’t save me, and I couldn’t bear to think of how the poor lad’s mother would feel to learn her son was dead.”
Gordon bared his teeth at the soldiers. “Thisis the woman you wanted to rape and murder! You should bloody well be ashamed of yourselves!”
Her voice a little stronger, she pointed at the corporal. “He has my pistol, and I want it back.” Her voice quavered. “It’s the only thing I have left that you gave me. That, and my wedding ring.” She raised her left hand and torchlight glinted from the gold band on her third finger. His Callie had always had a great sense of theater.
The shamefaced corporal stepped forward and offered the pistol, butt first. “Sorry, ma’am, but you looked guilty as sin.”
“Well, she isn’t!” Gordon brushed a kiss on her hair. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to endure this, love, but now I’ll take you home to England where you’ll be safe. We can set sail tonight.”
“Not without the children!” she exclaimed.
He blinked. Children? Considering that she’d been married at sixteen, the existence of children shouldn’t be a surprise, but it was a reminder of how many years had passed since they’d last seen each other. “Of course not. I assumed you sent them to safety. Where are they?”
“Baltimore.”
Wonderful, her children were in a city that would soon have half the Royal Navy laying siege to it while Ross’s army invaded by land. But even an old bachelor knew that children were nonnegotiable.
He gave her a reassuring squeeze. She was extremely squeezable. “Then we shall go to Baltimore and bring them home with us so we can be a family again.”
Raising his gaze to the soldiers, he said coolly, “I understand that you were angry because General Ross could have been killed, but he wasn’t, and it’s time you rejoined his troops and helped burn that great government building at the end of this road. Nowgo!”
Happy that Gordon wasn’t intending to tell Ross about their bad behavior, the soldiers jogged off after the other troops as quickly as exhausted men could manage.
Gordon kept his arm around Callie as the soldiers disappeared from sight. She was shaking a little, and no wonder. He felt shaky himself, both from shock at finding her and horror at the danger she’d been in. Rape was one of the oldest and ugliest parts of war, and he shuddered at what might have happened if he’d been a few minutes later.
She raised her head to speak, but before she could, an older woman appeared from the side street, her worried face illuminated by the light from the burning house. “Oh, my dear Catherine, your beautiful home! I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
Callie stepped from his embrace to accept the woman’s comforting hug. “Richard, this is my friend Mrs. Turner. She’s been a very good neighbor to me.” Callie turned bleak eyes on the inferno of her house. “I’m much better than I might have been, Edith, but . . . I’d hoped to prevent this sort of destruction.”
“I saw the shooters running out of your kitchen. Flotilla men, I think. Brave fighters, but I’m so sorry they chose your house for their attack!” Mrs. Turner switched her interested gaze to Gordon. “This is really your husband whom you’d thought dead?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gordon gave the older woman a half bow. “Lord George Gordon Richard Augustus Audley at your service.”
“Goodness!” Mrs. Turner blinked at the string of names. “Doesn’t that make you Lady George Audley, my dear?”
Callie gave a lopsided smile. “This is America, so using a British courtesy title seemed out of place. Not to mention a bit pretentious for a dressmaker.”
Shouts and shots were heard in the distance. Mrs. Turner frowned. “We need to get inside. Heaven only knows what kind of men are blustering around Washington now! Come to my house. You need food and a safe place to spend the night. You’ll have to share a room, but I don’t expect you’ll mind that.”
“No, ma’am. You’re right that we need to go to ground for the night.” Gordon gave Callie a fond glance. “We have much to talk about, my dear.”
“How long has it been since you saw each other?” Mrs. Turner asked.
Callie sighed. “It seems like forever. Thank you for the offer, Edith, but you already have a full house. We can spend the night in the guesthouse at the back of my property.”
