“You truly must believe I’m witless if you think for a second that I don’t know you’re one of the men who was chasing me.”
“I wasn’t chasing you. I was racing to your rescue.”
“A likely story.”
The man opened his mouth but snapped it shut when Lottie came rushing down the road, on foot no less, and brandishing a tree limb, which suggested she’d finally lost her seat and Serenity had gotten away from her and taken Lottie’s pistol in the process.
In the span of a split second, the man spun around, his concerningly large weapon already drawn from his holster and pointed Lottie’s way.
Convinced Lottie was soon going to find herself a victim of a bullet, Camilla did the only thing that sprang to mind—she aimed the derringer above the man’s head and pulled the trigger.
Thankfully, the moment after she’d discharged her weapon, the man abandoned his interest in Lottie and swung to face her, his blue eyes already narrowed in what could most assuredly be described as a most menacing fashion.
“You missed,” he said.
“I didn’t. I was shooting to distract you from my paid companion.”
The man’s eyes narrowed another fraction. “An interesting decision since you’ve lent me the impression you think I’m a threat to you.”
“Youarea threat to me.”
He re-holstered his pistol, a surprising move considering the circumstances. “If you’re convinced I’m a danger to you, why, since you’re using a single-shot derringer, would you waste your only bullet on a distraction tactic instead of rendering me incapable of being a continued threat?”
It was beyond irritating when Camilla realized he’d just made an excellent point, but before she could think of a suitable retort, Lottie stole up behind him and slipped the man’s pistol straight out of his holster. She then raised the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.
Camilla’s ears immediately began ringing as a blast echoed around her, her eyes widening when Lottie went flying backward, the result of a recoil that had literally knocked her off her feet.
Her gaze darted to the man, who, unfortunately, was still standing and seemingly unscathed. Interestingly enough, though, instead of looking outraged, a reaction she’d been expecting, he was squinting up into the tree he was standing under.
Her gaze shifted to what he was looking at, which seemed to be leaves that were rustling in a somewhat unusual manner, the peculiarity immediately explained when a large bundle of gray-and-black fur suddenly hurtled through the leaves, landing on the ground a few feet away from her.
It quickly became evident that the raccoon now hissing in a most concerning fashion had not appreciated its abrupt departure from the tree.
Camilla took a hesitant step backward, stilling when an entire nursery of raccoons began scrambling down the trunk, all of which were making noises that had the hair on the nape of her neck standing at attention.
“Run!” the man yelled.
It was the only piece of advice he’d given her thus far that she was going to heed.
Pivoting on her heel, she yanked up the hem of her riding habit and broke into a run, something she couldn’t remember doing since she was in short dresses.
To her relief, Lottie was soon sprinting beside her, and together, they dashed into the trees. Air quickly became difficult to come by, but unwilling to allow the man an opportunity to catch up with them, although given that Lottie still had possession of his gun, they were better prepared to protect themselves, Camilla pressed on, scrambled over a fallen tree, broke into a run again, and...
A yelp escaped her as her feet suddenly slid out from under her and she found herself sliding down an embankment she’d failed to notice. By the time she reached the bottom, she was covered in mud, but didn’t have a second to contemplate that unusual circumstance because a mere second after she managed to clamber to her feet, Lottie barreled into her, the force of the barreling sending them both tumbling to the ground again and rolling straight into the Hudson River.
Two
Mr. Owen Chesterfield readily admitted he didn’t understand women and had been informed over the years by members of the feminine set that they found him vastly annoying.
Given what had happened a mere thirty minutes before certainly lent credence to the whole annoying business because the prickly woman, whom he’d taken to thinking of as Goldie as they’d never gotten around to exchanging names, had evidently taken great issue with him for calling her a little lady, and then got downright testy when he’d brought the wordcalminto the conversation.
In his defense, he’d merely been trying to defuse the situation before someone got hurt, but instead of Owen accomplishing that, Goldie had surprised him by discharging her tiny derringer, and then he’d had one of his Colt Dragoon revolvers snatched straight out of his holster by a woman he’d heard Goldie mention was her paid companion.
The only paid companion he’d ever met was employed by his great-aunt Elma, who’d had to resort to paying someone to spend time with her due to her querulous nature. That companion, Miss Hester Baker, was a very meek woman who spent her days reading to Aunt Elma or penning letters for his aunt because she refused towear spectacles and was blind as a bat, which made writing, as well as reading, next to impossible. Hester would never contemplate snatching a man’s weapon, let alone firing it, but that’s exactly what Goldie’s companion had done.
She was obviously an unusual companion and possessed a great aptitude for stealth since she’d appropriated his weapon without him even realizing she was up to something.
All he could conclude about that unlikely circumstance was that he’d been far too distracted arguing with Goldie, which was quite unlike him because even though he aggravated women with some regularity, he’d never become so distracted with their aggravation that he’d fallen victim to larceny.
