“There is no other way.”
The housekeeper was close to tears now. “If your lady mother were alive, she would never…” Her voice trailed off into a strangled sob, verging on hysterical.
Juliana pressed her lips into a tight smile. If her mama were alive, she would probably have said the same thing Grandmama had that morning. From a very young age, Juliana was taught that—being the heir—Kit was the most important person in their family, and they all had to serve him. Perhaps it was a good thing, too, that Mama had departed this world. At least she would not have to witness how low their family had fallen.
At present, however, she had far more pressing matters before her.
She took one look at the distressed Agnes, and resolve hardened her spine into steel. The fraught woman met her gaze, and her eyes widened in horror.
“I beg of you, Miss! You cannot—”
Whatever protestations Agnes might have had, however, were drowned out by Juliana’s shrill scream that rent the night air.
“Help! Help! Oh, please, help us!”
The horses, startled by the sudden ruckus, began pawing at the cobbled street in agitation. The guard, previously an impenetrable wall of muscle and apathy, flinched.
Juliana smiled. Now was her chance.
She gave Agnes’s hand a brief squeeze and muttered a quick “Thank you” just as the guard approached their carriage.
“Is anything amiss, madam?” he rumbled, although Juliana suspected he had lost a tenth of his composure. There was truly nothing more rattling to a man than a woman in hysterics.
“Kind sir, you have to help my aunt,” Juliana told him, wringing her hands for good measure. “She is easily agitated, you see, andwe failed to bring her medication with us today.”
She inwardly smiled in triumph when the guard pressed his mouth into a thin, grim line. “Stand aside, miss, and give your aunt some air.”
Juliana dutifully stepped aside, allowing the man to peer into the carriage to check on Agnes. She caught the flash in the maid’s eye, the imperceptible nod. When Agnes clamped her hand on the man’s arm—most indecorous, but desperate times called for desperate measures—Juliana bolted for the unguarded door.
She entered through the portal, her chest heaving, clutching the package to her arms.
She was inside at last! Now all she had to do was find this ‘Mr. Anderson’ and be done with this foul task once and for all.
Only… she had quite literally and figuratively landed her feet—worn boots and all—in hot water.
Chapter 2
Bang!
Through the smoke drifting from the pistol, Cassian smirked in satisfaction as he saw the neat hole burned into the target. Another perfect shot, as expected.
“You pompous arse!” Sebastian Hargrove, the Duke of Firaine, muttered as he loaded his own firearm. He took his place, raised his arm, and fired. The corner of his lips rose into the semblance of a mildly satisfied smile when his bullet punched a hole right beside Cassian’s.
“Not a bad shot, old chap,” Cassian grinned.
“Old chap, your arse.”
“And a rather fine arse, is it not?”
Sebastian shot him a look of disgust, and Benedict, the Duke of Frostmore, gave out a loud guffaw as he took his place before the target.
“I, for one, would much rather spend the rest of my life without having to dwell on Stonevale’s buttocks.” He shuddered. “Oranyone else’s, for that matter.”
Cassian fought the urge to roll his eyes at his friend’s words. “It is rare enough that I can find you both for a round of shooting. Now, you have lost all sense of the bawdy and profane. Marriage has made you both dull and soft, gentlemen.”
“Dull and soft?” Sebastian scoffed. “Hardly.”
“Perhaps you should find yourself a lovely wife to stave off the loneliness and keep your fine self from missing us so much, Cassian,” Frostmore suggested with a chuckle.
