“I have,” Gabe said with a faint smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get your friend safely out of there.”
He spoke with a calm confidence that worried Callie. Count Anton was a ruthless, evil man, and here, where nobody knew him, he didn’t even need to pretend to be otherwise.
There was an intersection up ahead and Gabriel used the extra space to turn the curricle around. “Nicky, I hope you remember what I taught you because I need you to drive back the way we came—”
“I can drive,” Callie told him. “I don’t enjoy it but Rupert—my husband—made me learn.”
“Excellent, in that case, you shall drive. But first, put this on.” He pulled off his driving coat and thrust it at her. “My hat, too. I don’t want the men in the cottage to see you’re a woman.” He reached for her hat and helped her to remove it, then helped her into his coat. It was far too big. He folded the sleeves back for her and buttoned her into it, then placed his hat on her head.
“I feel ridiculous,” she muttered.
He smiled. “You look delightful. Tuck this rug over your skirts—good, that’s it. Now, drive the curricle home—to the Grange. Tell Harry what has happened and he’ll take care of everything.”
“What about Nicky?” she asked. “They will be looking for him, too.” She glanced back at the dog box on the back and asked him a silent question with her eyes.
He caught her drift. There was a box built onto the back of the curricle to hold hunting dogs. It would certainly hold a small boy and hide him from sight, Gabe thought. An excellent idea.
Turning to Nicky, he began, “Nicky, I want you to—” He broke off. Nicky’s face was stark, with huge green eyes, a miniature version of his mother. The boy’s lips were trembling but the small, thin body was held ramrod straight, his little chin clenched firm. Nicky was ready to face his fate.
No power on earth could have made Gabriel tell this brave little boy to hide in a box—a coffin—like a scared rabbit.
He gave the boy’s mother a warning look and said to the boy, “I want you to take care of your mother.”
She frowned at him and opened her mouth to argue. He gave his head a tiny shake.
“Yes, sir!” Nicky replied like a little soldier and Gabe saw her look at her son and bite her lip.
“Your mother will drive the horses and won’t be able to take her eyes off the road. You are to be her eyes and ears. You will keep a lookout for any strangers on the road.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you see anyone, you are to tell her, and if she thinks there is any danger, she will pass the reins to you—you can manage that, I’m certain. You did very well before. I trust you to keep a cool head.”
Nicky swallowed, but his chest swelled. “Yes, sir.”
Gabe helped her to climb into the driver’s seat, then from a secret compartment beside the driver’s seat, he drew out two pistols, which he checked.
Callie’s eyes widened. “But if you shoot at Count Anton’s men, Tibby might—”
“I’m not doing any shooting. These are for you.”
“Me?But—”
“If you are accosted, all you need to do is point the barrel and squeeze the trigger. They’re primed and ready.” He placed them on the seat beside Callie.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t hit them. We will hear and know you are in trouble, and we will come.”
“But I know how—”
“Keep the lid of this compartment open. They are designed to keep the pistols ready to hand in case of highwaymen or footpads. All you need to do is pass the reins to Nicky and take the pistols out.”
“But the men in Tibby’s cottage will be armed—”
“And so am I, ma’am,” Ethan Delaney said and, with a subtle movement, produced a wicked-looking blade, apparently from thin air.
She looked at Mr. Renfrew in distress. “Don’t worry about us,” he told her. “We’re soldiers, remember?”
“But you don’t know how many—”
