“We went ahead of them, they’ll be here soon. Maybe a quarter hour.”
Isaac didn’t respond, his eyes already narrowing toward the door, where a flustered butler stood, blocking their way. “Let us pass.”
The butler sputtered something about the hour being improper for visitors, his voice high and uncertain. As he rambled, Samantha yanked Josephine into a quick hug, the warmth of it a brief comfort. “You’re safe, thank God.”
They turned as the butler shouted. Isaac had twisted his hands in his collar and yanked the man out onto the porch. With the doorway cleared, they all surged inside.
“Ross!” Isaac bellowed. He released the butler, whom he had dragged back in with him. “If you value your employer’s life at all, you will wake him and his daughter immediately.”
A door banged open somewhere upstairs. “What the hell is going on? I’ll have you all arrested for this!” Abigail’s father stormed down the stairs in his nightshirt, the hem flapping around his bare ankles, hair disheveled and face flushed with indignation.
“No time to explain, Ross, but you must leave immediately. Captain Thorne and his men are on their way here right now.”
The man scoffed. “What the hell do I care about a pirate?”
Abigail appeared at the top of the steps with her arm hugged around her waist. “What’s going on, papa?”
“Nothing to worry yourself over, dear. Go back to bed.”
“Abigail!” Samantha’s shout made her friend’s eyes open wide.
“Samantha?” She hurried down the steps. “Josephine?”
Samantha spun to face her father. “You must go to New Orleans. Find my uncle. He’ll be able to help.”
Mr. Ross shook his head. “This is preposterous. I’m not lettingsome blasted pirate scare me from my home.”
Isaac stepped forward with a growl. “Thorne is not any pirate, you fool.”
“Are you saying you men are incapable of fighting him off?” Ross laughed. “That the United States government can’t even handle one pirate? This is absurd.”
Isaac grabbed the man’s nightshirt and jerked him forward until they were nose to nose. “Listen to me real close. Thorne has an entire ship full of mercenary pirates. We’ll be outnumbered ten to one. He’s likely minutes behind us, maybe fewer. When he gets here, the first thing he’s going to do after overpowering us is slit your daughter’s throat in front of you.”
Abigail let out a whimper and Josephine squeezed her hand. Mr. Ross opened and closed his mouth as the color drained from his face.
Samantha took Abigail’s other hand. “If you won’t take her to safety, I will. Come on, Abigail, let’s quickly grab some things.” She tugged her toward the stairs and Josephine followed.
“I… You…” Mr. Ross took a shaky step after them. “If you really think it’s necessary, I will go. But we need to change, and properly pack.”
Christian pulled out a pocket watch. “You have exactly five minutes to gather what you can carry. I have a wagon ready behind your kitchen. Get in, and cover yourselves with the blanket. The driver will take you out the servant’s entrance and deliver you to Augusta. You’ll need to secure a carriage from there. Do not linger. Thorne will follow you once he’s done with us.”
“Go!” Isaac’s barked command made Josephine jump and she rushed up the stairs with Samantha and Abigail.
Samantha threw open the door to Abigail’s bedroom and flung a satchel onto the floor. “Only what fits in here,” she snapped, voice sharp with urgency. “Jewelry, silver—anything you can use to trade for supplies along the way.”
Abigail stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving like a startled doe. Samantha grabbed her shoulders. “Snap out of it.”
In a daze, Abigail turned to her vanity and pulled open a drawer with trembling fingers. “My jewelry’s in here.”
Josephine hurried over and began scooping handfuls of glittering bracelets and gemstone-studded necklaces into the satchel. Gold clinked against silver, strands of pearls tangling with brooches and rings as she hurried. Snatching up the lantern, she pushed through the door into Abigail’s dressing room. Rows of dresses lined the walls, silks and muslins in every color. How could she possibly choose?
She didn’t. With a frustrated huff, she grabbed the nearest two gowns and flung them over her arm. She hooked a pair of soft kid leather boots with her fingers and turned back, skirts brushing her legs. As she knelt beside the bag to shove the clothes inside, a shrill squawk made her head jerk up.
Lola.
The parrot blinked at her from her perch in the corner of the room, feathers puffed, eyes gleaming. Josephine’s throat tightened. “No time,” she whispered. “Later.”
“Time’s up, let’s go.” Isaac’s bellow echoed up the stairs and the girls hurried out into the hall. The door to Mr. Ross’s room hung open, the glow of a lantern casting shadows on the wall.
