The Weasels showed no sign of slowing. The intruder, however, came to halt just as he reached the trees and turned around. Spotting the boys, he fumbled with something in his pocket and then raised his arm.
A wordless cry tore from Wrexford’s throat as the Weasels, suddenly alert to the danger, dove for cover.
He saw a flash and a puff of silvery smoke, which was gone in the blink of an eye. An instant later, the crack of the gunshot swirled through the night, dulled to naught but a whisper by the fitful breeze.
Heart pounding hard enough to crack a rib, the earl abandoned the chase and ran as fast as he could to where he had seen the boys fall.
“Ouch.” Raven was on his knees, rubbing at his wrist. “There are nettles down here.”
“Oiy. And prickers.” answered his brother, gingerly plucking a thorn from his thumb.
Wrexford crouched down beside them.No sign of blood.Which drew a sigh of relief. “Hell’s bells, I ought to birch your bottoms for disobeying my orders.”
” We didn’t disobey, Wrex,” replied Raven. “It was m’lady you told to stay in the library.” A pause. “Nor did we follow you.”
“And besides, you don’t believe in corporal punishment,” pointed out Hawk.
“In this particular case I might make an exception.” He scowled . . . and then pulled them both into a fierce hug. “Don’teverdo that again. You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” Both boys apologized at once.
Harper, who was standing guard beside the earl, let out a low whuffle and butted his head against the earl’s arm.
“Harper is sorry, too,” said Hawk softly.
Wrexford helped the boys up. “You could have been killed.”
“Naw, he wasn’t aiming at us,” responded Raven. “I saw his arm rise at the last instant and heard the bullet whistle high overhead.”
“You were lucky,” replied the earl. “But we all know from our previous brushes with trouble that Lady Luck can be awfully fickle.”
Seeing Hawk wince from a thorn in his bare foot, he lifted the boy into his arms. “Come along, the three of you need to get some sleep.” A glance at the hound, whose paws were now black with mud. “You’ll need to rise early in order to bath Harper and comb every last bramble out of his fur before the wedding ceremony.”
The tall grasses shivered in a gust of wind.
“Or Aunt Alison will cut off your supply of ginger biscuits for the foreseeable future.”
* * *
“Thank heaven,” muttered Charlotte as Wrexford and the runaways emerged from the night’s gloom and trooped up the terrace stairs.
“Indeed,” he replied, as she and Cordelia stepped aside from the open door to let them enter the library.
“Was that a gunshot I heard?” she pressed.
“We dodged a bullet,” admitted the earl. “But I’m fairly certain it was only meant as a warning.”
“That’s not amusing,” replied Charlotte.
Raven and Hawk avoided meeting her gimlet gaze.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” said Wrexford.
A single chime from the mantel clock—sounding loud as gunfire in the fraught silence—announced that the midnight hour had passed and a new dawn was not far off.
“Good Lord, the wedding day is here!” Cordelia forced a smile, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Let us hope that it will bring no more surprises.”
Charlotte released a pent-up breath, which ended in a reluctant laugh. “Deo volente,” she said in Latin, glancing up in mute appeal to the Almighty before turning her gaze back to the Weasels.
