The kitchen maid gasped at this revelation of their past acquaintance, and cook was avidly listening, too. “I’ve worn them ever since, you know,” Kat said, for the listeners’ benefit. “Until a month ago,when my lady first had to travel and needed the countenance of a male escort.”
Jacob pointed a finger downward and made a circle of it, and Kat obligingly turned right around, enjoying the way that her skirts belled as she twirled.
“Very lovely,” said Jacob. “I had best be on my way, my love. I shall see you at church. Will you share a prayer book with me?”
“I shall,” Kat agreed. “For my lady shall undoubtedly sit with your master.”
She picked up the tray as he headed for the door, and whisked herself back up the stairs before anyone could waylay her with questions.
She waited on Miss Ellen and walked with her to church, where Captain Harraway took over to lead the lady up to the Carr Abbas pew at the front, and Jacob offered his arm to escort Kat to her place among the servants at the back.
One of the other maids poked Kat in the ribs and whispered, “Why didn’t you say you were a girl?” But Kat ignored her, Mrs. Kirby sent her a glare, and the organist began the music for the entrance hymn.
After that, Kat tried to focus on the service, but she was very conscious of the man beside her, especially when he captured her hand and pulled it down between them, where it was hidden by her skirts.
He then proceeded to completely ruin her concentration by gently stroking his thumb across the back of her hand, or making patterns on her palm with one finger, until her whole body buzzed with his presence and she heard so little of the sermon that she fully expected a thunderbolt to fall on her from on high.
She started when she heard the vicar say her name. For a second, she thought he was about to deliver a scold, but when he went on to say, “…and Jacob Flynn of St Martin-In-The-Fields, London,” she realized he was calling her banns. Their banns, hers and Jacob’s.
And when, after the service, her fellow servants cornered her inthe churchyard, her marriage to Jacob had taken priority in their minds over the revelation that she was female.
Not so the rest of the parish, she discovered later when she went to Miss Ellen to take her bonnet and coat after they arrived back at Carr Abbas. “The vicar and Captain Harraway were kept busy explaining why you pretended to be a man and why you are now suddenly a woman again, Kat,” Miss Ellen said. “I daresay it shall be a five-day wonder, however. Are you pleased to be back in your skirts? Or do you miss the freedom of breeches?”
“Skirts have their benefits, Miss Ellen,” said Kat. “For a start, the cool breeze in the hot church! But I do miss my boots, and that’s a fact.”
They saw nomore of Waterford, and Captain Harraway said he must have left the area. Jake hoped it was true, but kept his weapon and his ammunition handy, especially on Monday afternoon, when they traveled to London.
However, the journey was uneventful. They had hired a carriage and postillions from The Feathers, and after they had dropped Miss Ellen and Kat at Grillon’s Hotel, they went on to that inn’s London partner, where the captain gave the postillions some cash to purchase their dinner and breakfast.
“Collect my lady and her maid at fifteen minutes past eight,” he ordered, “and take her to the church of St Martins-in-the-Field. I’ll need you back at the church by nine to collect us and take us back to Ealing.”
“We should bespeak a breakfast hamper to have in the carriage,” Jake suggested, and was given the job.
The captain had a restless night. Jake, well aware that he would be standing in the man’s shoes in two weeks, kept his tongue between his teeth and merely listened as the captain fretted out loud about everything that could go wrong between now and the wedding.
But none of it came true.
By half-past-nine, they were all back in the carriage on their way to Ealing, Captain and Mrs. Harraway side by side in the forward-facing seat, and Kat and Jake facing them with the breakfast hamper between them.
Mrs. Harraway, Jake noticed, did not have much of an appetite, but she nibbled on a pastry, ate a handful of very expensive hothouse strawberries, and drank a glass of wine.
The attack came as they passed through an area of scrubby forest just beyond Shepherd’s Bush. At the sound of someone shouting for the horses to stop, both Jake and the captain reached under the rear-facing seat for the box containing their weapons. Jake managed to jerk his head out of the way just in time to prevent them from colliding, and the captain brought the box out, opened it, and passed a gun and a box of prepared ammunition to Jake all in a few of smooth moments, even while the postillions yelled at whoever had stopped them, and the other person yelled back.
Jake knew that voice. Waterford. He didn’t wait, but picked out a paper bundle, tore the paper with his teeth, poured some of the gunpowder into the flash pan, and drove the rest of the package into one of the barrels with the loader that fitted under the barrels.
He did the same to load the other side, finishing even as the captain finished his and nodded to Jake. Waterford’s voice, ranting about his rights and being ruined, approached the carriage door, coming down Jake’s side of the vehicle. “Protect the women,” the captain ordered, and carefully opened the carriage door on his side, careful not to make any noise.
He was out and away before Waterford wrenchedopen the door, to be met with the barrel of Jake’s pistol.
Waterford, who was holding his own gun trained on the postillions, staggered back, and then collected himself. “Put that gun down, soldier!” He snapped the order.
“No way on God’s earth,” Jake told him. “My mistress and her maid are in this carriage, and I am sworn to defend them.” After a heartbeat, he added. “And for your information, I am not a soldier. I have left the army, and I only take orders from my employer.”
Waterford tried to see past Jake, who had stepped to fill the doorway. “Lady Ellen, Lady Ellen, I have no quarrel with you, my lady. Send Captain Harraway out, and I shall let you go. I just want to have a talk with him.”
“Talk about what?” That came from above them. Captain Harraway had climbed onto the carriage roof, though how he did it without rocking the carriage, Jake couldn’t begin to guess.
The lying swine who had ambushed them swung his gun upward and pulled the trigger. Jake shot him, and in the same moment heard a gunshot from above. Waterford crumpled. Jake had shot to kill, and he couldn’t imagine that the captain was feeling much more merciful.
