“I don’t see where that’s any of your concern. But perhaps having you learn that I’m intending to open a finishing academy for young ladies in the near future will finally allow you, as well as all the other anxious developers, to realize that I am, again, not going to sell.”
Umberto frowned. “I heard a rumor about this academy, but I didn’t put much stock in it as the fees you would glean from tuition won’t be able to compete with what I’m willing to give to buy you out.”
“I’m not selling.”
Umberto shot a look to Rhenick. “I find myself curious, Whittenbecker, how it came to be that you ended up being a man in Miss Merriweather’s confidence. Could it be that you’ve been plying her with flattery, perhaps convincing her that you find her attractive when you and I both know she’s nothing of the—”
Before Umberto could finish his thought, Rhenick surged into motion, pulling out the gate key Norbert had given him. A mere heartbeat later, he was shoving the gate open before he launched himself in Umberto’s direction, taking the man to the ground before Drusilla could get so much as a squeak past her lips.
Her mind then went curiously numb as she watched Rhenick begin rolling with Umberto down the drive, but before she could do more than take a step in their direction—to do what, she had no idea—another carriage came racing toward the gate.
Before she knew it, the doors to that carriage were flying open and then a handful of very large men spilled out onto the drive, heading not in Rhenick and Umberto’s direction,which suggested they weren’t Umberto’s men, but toward the now-open gate.
“My dear Miss Merriweather,” one of the largest of the men called, “how delightful to find you outside for a change and with the gate open in obvious welcome. If you can now spare me but a minute or two of your time, I assure you, I’ll make it worth your while.”
A whisper of dread swept through her, but before she could contemplate her best response to what hadn’t exactly seemed like a request, Norbert materialized at her side.
“Best get yourself back to the castle, Miss Merriweather,” Norbert muttered. “Those are Loughlin ‘Lackey’ MacSherry’s men, which means ... we’ve got trouble.”
With that, Norbert ever so casually aimed his rifle toward the men, who were in the process of steadily advancing toward them. To Drusilla’s relief, the sight of Norbert’s rifle left Loughlin MacSherry’s men stopping in their tracks, her relief short-lived when another carriage came clattering toward and thenthroughthe gate, the man sitting beside the driver of this particular carriage sporting an enormous pistol, one he seemed to be directing Norbert’s way.
Unwilling to allow her groundskeeper to suffer a bullet, Drusilla whipped her pistol out of her pocket and, remembering that Seraphina had told her to simply aim and shoot instead of pondering the matter too long, drew a breath and pulled the trigger.
Twenty-Four
For the briefest of seconds, silence settled over a scene that had been unquestionably chaotic right up to the point when Drusilla had fired off a shot—until a howl rent the air right before the carriage that had reined to a stop the moment she’d fired on it began trundling into motion again and, unfortunately, trundling directly toward her.
“You shot me!” the man sitting beside the carriage driver yelled as he clutched his right arm and swayed on the driver’s seat as the carriage picked up speed.
Self-preservation had her spinning on her heel instead of begging the man’s pardon, although given the circumstances, it probably wasn’t a grave faux pas to not voice an apology, since it appeared as if the man she’d shot now wanted to run her over.
She made it all of ten feet before the sound of additional shots rang out, and then chaos once again surrounded her. She heard Norbert yell something about everyone laying their weapons down right as Seraphina raced into view, gripping the blunderbuss she’d unearthed from one of the dungeon rooms, which she immediately aimed and fired at the carriage that had been gaining ground on Drusilla.
Glancing over her shoulder, Drusilla found the carriage driveralready steering the carriage off the drive to turn it around. The four men who’d jumped from the carriage while it had been chasing her froze in the middle of the drive, undoubtedly because Annaliese had now charged into view as well and was in the process of pointing the Frankenau purse revolver she’d found the day before in an old trunk of Ottilie’s at them.
One of the men, the largest of the bunch, immediately stuck his hands in the air. “How about you just lower that pistol purse real nice and slow like,” he began, not taking his eyes off Annaliese, who was now scowling at him, probably because the man was talking to her as if she were a child—and not too bright, to boot. “It sure would be a shame if it misfired and that beautiful face of yours got disfigured.”
“Itwouldbe a shame, but I’m not lowering my weapon,” Annaliese countered as she fumbled with the bottom of the purse, her fumbling coming to an abrupt stop when the pistol purse suddenly emitted a bang, which resulted in the four men spinning around in unison and heading down the drive, one of them yelling something about crazy ladies and questionable gun accessories in the process.
Before Drusilla could appreciate the fact that she was not going to be run over in the very near future, Pippin, Fidget, and Wiggles came scurrying into view, setting their sights on the four fleeing men after Annaliese gave a snap of her fingers and pointed in the men’s direction.
To say the chaos increased exponentially was an understatement after Fidget caught up with one of the men and took to attacking his leg, Pippin and Wiggles doing the same to two other men a moment later. The fourth man then increased his speed, not bothering to help the others as he bolted down the drive.
Unfortunately for him, Billy the Goat, in the company of his entire herd, took that moment to charge through the trees, Mother Goose at his side, her long neck stretched out as shehonked her way after the fleeing man, clearly intent on inflicting some damage, as well.
“Who would have ever thought that goats could be counted on to act as guardians of the castle?” Wilhelmine asked as she jogged up to join Drusilla, Irma panting beside her, both ladies equipped with brooms.
Irma rubbed at what was obviously a stitch in her side. “It was brilliant of Eloise to shoo the goats down the drive when we heard that first shot fired, but...” Her brow took to furrowing as she turned to Drusilla. “What in the world is going on?”
“I’m afraid some developers have turned desperate, but no time to explain since Rhenick still might be engaged in some fisticuffs with Umberto Zambarello.”
“Good heavens,” Wilhelmine breathed before she dashed into motion again, Irma dashing after her a second later, both ladies brandishing their brooms quite as if they were fully prepared to wield them.
After exchanging a look of alarm with Seraphina and Annaliese, Drusilla charged after them and reached the castle gate, coming to an abrupt stop and blinking rather owlishly at the sight that met her eyes.
Instead of finding Rhenick and Norbert holding off the men who’d taken the sight of an open gate as an invitation to abandon all sense of civility, there was no one in sight, save Umberto Zambarello. He, however, was sitting in the middle of the drive, nursing a bleeding nose, before turning his head to peer down the drive when a few distant yells rang out, yells that suggested that Billy the Goat had just gotten a few additional head rams in and the ferrets might still be enjoying sinking their teeth into additional legs.
Her lips began to curve—until she caught sight of Rhenick, who was limping his way toward her, his handsome face now battered and smeared with blood, his eyes already swelling shut, which explained the squinting he was doing.
