“My dear, you have turned into a splendid woman—as I always said you would!”
“I’m so sorry to have dragged you into th—”
“Nonsense! I dragged myself,” Tibby declared stoutly. “I urged you to come to me, remember? I knew the risks.”
A little of Callie’s guilt faded. “I felt sick when I heard they were holding you—but you’re all right, truly?”
“Yes, perfectly. Mr. Delaney snatched me away in the most audacious way.” She added after a while, “I felt quite like fair Ellen for a moment.”
The reference surprised another laugh out of Callie. “Young Lochinvar”? Tibby’s favorite poem.
They raced on. It took all of Callie’s concentration to drive.
“Count Anton himself is here,” Tibby said suddenly.
“Where?” Callie looked around in alarm.
“I meant in England. He came to the cottage. I am sure it was him. The others called him ‘Excellency’—a slender, pretty man with golden hair and a smooth, nasty way of talking.”
“That’s him.” Callie felt sick.
“He knew all our arrangements. They came straight to my cottage. He knew I was expecting you and Nicky.”
“Then he must have read our letters,” Callie said. “But how? There was no sign of tampering…”
The cottage came into sight and they fell silent.
“We need a plan,” Tibby said.
“Yes. Have you ever shot a gun?”
Tibby shook her head. “Never.”
“Then I will take them. I know how to shoot. Rupert had me taught.” Her face hardened. “And if it’s Count Anton or one of his thugs, my aim will not waver. You must make some sort of loud, shocking noise the moment we enter the cottage. It will get their attention.” Callie took a deep breath. “I will do the rest.”
Gabe was two men down and two to go when Ethan arrived; he seized a heavy brass vase and smashed it over the fourth man’s head. He dropped like a stone. Gabe threw a final mighty punch at the last man standing, and the cottage was suddenly silent.
The two men grinned at each other. “A fine fight, by the looks of it, Capt’n,” Ethan said.
Gabe heaved a satisfied sigh. “It was indeed.” He flexed his knuckles gingerly. “Though it’s some time since I’ve fought with just my hands.”
“If you’d borrowed me knife—” Ethan gave the vase a rub on his sleeve and replaced it on the mantel. He turned it so the dent wouldn’t show.
“No. As I said before, killing anyone would complicate things too much and draw unwanted attention to Mrs. Prynne and her son. We’ll hand these fellows over to the law for attempted burglary or false imprisonment or something. They will hardly admit their true purpose—”
Just then, one of the fallen men groaned and started to move. Ethan grabbed the brass vase again and thumped the man unconscious. The vase was now dented on both sides. He set it back on the mantel. It listed sadly.
“Let’s get this lot tied up,” Gabe ordered.
There was no rope to be found in the small, feminine cottage, but they found a pile of folded sheets in a cupboard and ripped the top one into long strips that they used to tie up the villains.
“I’ll inform the magistr—” Gabe began, whencrash! A large clay pot containing a geranium came smashing through the side window and shattered on the floor, sending glass, earth, and bits of geranium everywhere.
At the same time the front door flew open. “Nobody move!” a feminine voice bellowed. “I have a gun!”
“Two guns!” an equally strident feminine voice behind her added. “And I have a spade!”
Gabe sighed. He understood now why the army contained no women. Women didn’t understand about orders. They confused them with advice.
