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And should all go well tonight, they would have the evidence they needed to bring charges on multiple fronts. But because of Asquith’s promise to Hampton, he’d kept the crime of forgery to himself.

Still, he feared he had allowed Preston to walk straight into a trap.

When Millie had been searching the tollkeeper’s books for some sign that Neville had been taken to the lodge, Asquith had seen mention of a velocipede. Could be a coincidence, but just before they’d left, he’d asked the tollkeeper’s son to keep watch for Preston.

Asquith planned to search the lodge. If Preston was there, he’d get the boy out. But first, he had to help rescue Neville.

The plan was for Millie, who was armed for her own protection, to rescue Neville. Dixon, once a marksman with the 95th, would provide cover, and Asquith would keep an eye on the house. Meanwhile, the tollkeeper had gone to fetch the Justice of the Peace.

They emerged from the wood, and Dixon motioned toward the barn—if the building even deserved such an illustrious name. Dixon had been certain Neville could not be in the house; he’d not been seen by the informants Dixon paid.

Asquith prayed he was unharmed.

Asquith and Dixon silently took up their places—Asquith where he could see both the drive and the house, and Dixon closer to the wood, with a line to either the barn’s rear door or the row of windows.

Asquith’s heart hammered as Millie tested the handle. Unlocked, just as Dixon had predicted. Silently, she slipped inside.

“Willard!”

Asquith was close enough to recognize Neville’s single, sharp call.

Millie and Neville exchanged words Asquith couldn’t discern. Then, their voices stopped. For a moment, silence reigned, only to be broken by the sing-sound cadence of Willard’s voice.

“Boys, me boys...”

He’d no involuntary reaction to the chant. Thank God.

He exchanged a glance with Dixon. Dixon pointed to the door. Asquith understood him to be suggesting they barge in now. But should they?

The JP was on his way. Willard might escape. Asquith didn’t want to take the chance.

He trusted Millie. She’d handled Willard before. She could handle him again.

And this time she had a gun.

He motioned to Dixon to wait. A light flashed in the window, then he heard the distinctive sound of a trap door slamming shut.

Damnation! They’d not even considered the possibility of an escape tunnel. They should have. The Channel was mere miles away. Smuggling had once been rife in these parts.

“Come out, Asquith.”

Asquith frowned. Had Willard been expecting him?!

“I know you’re here,” Willard continued. “One of my lovelies spotted you making your way toward the barn. A rescue, she called out. A rescue.” He snorted. “As if there was some place where she could escape to where the rules of order do not apply. Simple Simon...”

Asquith twisted his lips but felt nothing. Name-calling was a weak man’s weapon.

Willard swung the lamp. “Lily-livered—” Willard stopped. “I guess in this case, it really is boys and girls come out to play. I’m so glad you could join us, Miss Millicent.”

Dixon took aim at the window.

Asquith drew closer to the window, following along as Willard and Millie exchanged barbs, ready, if needed, to barge in himself. Then, he heard a carriage.

Dixon did, too; he swung his gun.

Again, Asquith held up his hand.

He’d recognized the conveyance. But why had Eltenham come?