She frowned. “Why has he brought a magistrate? He must think it gives him some advantage.” She looked at him with misgiving. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” He glanced out of the window. “A magistrate implies some legal maneuver.”
“Nicky! He wants legal custody of Nicky.”
Gabe wasn’t convinced. “How could he gain legal custody of your son before you?”
“Because Zindarian law is Gothic, that’s why. A female has no status in law. If the male heir is a child, the oldest adult male becomes the head of the family until the child becomes an adult. Currently the head of the family is Uncle Otto, but if he died—and he is an old man—Count Anton would become the head of the family until Nicky turns eighteen.”
She clutched his forearms. “What if Uncle Otto is dead? Anton will have free rein.”
Gabe stared at her somberly. “It’s a bluff. He mustsuspectyou are here, but he cannotknowit. Take Nicky upstairs and hide there. I’ll get rid of Count Anton and his magistrate.”
“Give me a gun, just in case. Those dueling pistols.”
He squeezed her hand. “No time, they’re out in the curricle. Besides, what’s needed here is strategy, not force.”
Mrs. Barrow and the boys arrived, and swiftly Gabe explained their roles. They all looked stunned.
“It’ll never work,” Callie muttered.
“Trust me,” he said softly. “I’ll keep you and Nicky safe. Now go!” As he spoke, the front doorbell jangled imperiously. She glanced at it and fled with Nicky up the stairs.
Jim’s eyes lit with excitement. “Are we foolin’ the preventives, Mr. Gabe?”
“Something like that,” Gabe told him.
Everyone disappeared to take their places. Mrs. Barrow eyed him. “They’re never the preventives, Mr. Gabe.”
“No, but the man with the magistrate is responsible for burning down Miss Tibthorpe’s cottage. He’s in pursuit of the princess and Nicky and he means them harm.”
Mrs. Barrow bristled. “The villain. Will you have him arrested then, sir?”
Gabe shook his head. “We have no proof. And I have no doubt he has diplomatic papers to ensure he cannot be touched by English law.”
The doorbell jangled again. “Shall I admit this cockroach, then?”
“Yes. Tell him I am unavailable.” Gabe raced back up the stairs as Mrs. Barrow marched to the front door. He waited on the landing and listened as Mrs. Barrow answered the door and explained that the master of the house was unavailable.
“Unavailable! How extremely convenient,” a smooth voice with a faint foreign accent said. Gabe recognized the voice. Last time he’d met it it had been attached to a pair of boots that were kicking him.
“I really must insist,” the magistrate declared. “Count Anton, the prince regent of Zindaria, has laid very serious claims against Captain Renfrew.”
Prince regent, Gabe thought. Uncle Otto must indeed be dead.
“Serious indeed to disturb the son of an English earl in His Own Home!” Mrs. Barrow countered in a belligerent manner.
The magistrate cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Count Anton claims that the young crown prince of his country has been kidnapped and, er—”
“What?”
“He claims the crown prince is being held here.”
“Here?” Mrs. Barrow repeated in loud surprise. There was a pause, then she raised her voice. “Oy, Barrow, the squire here reckons we’ve got a crown prince hidden away here somewhere. Have you seen one?”
“Nope, not in the kitchen,” Barrow’s voice floated back.
Gabe grinned.
