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Suddenly, Ian lurched for the basket.

Moving amazingly fast for such a rotund man, the magistrate kicked the basket into the frenzied pond. “No, you don’t,” he wheezed, easing his way backward to stand beside the dowager.

No! Vangie silently cried, a lock of hair whipping across her face. Her pins had long since come out, and she shoved the strands aside, tucking the soaked hair behind her ears. God, please send help. She prayed someone at the mansion or stables would come in search of them. With only her dagger to defend them, she and Ian didn’t stand a chance against the other three.

Unless… She eyed the pistols. Black powder flintlocks? She swallowed a hysterical giggle. Would the guns fire in this downpour?

Ben reached the bridge, and it dipped and bucked over the churning water. A large branch broke nearby, crashing to the earth and shaking the ground from the impact. He wore a peculiar expression on his thin face. “What about me?” he said, more whine than demand.

“What about you?” Lucinda spat, derisively.

“You promised that if I helped, I’d receive a share of the estate.” His gaze flicked to Sir Doyle, and the magistrate averted his rodent eyes.

“Did I?” She curved her mouth into humorless smile. “I don’t recall making any such promise.”

Ian edged nearer to Vangie.

“You heard her, Pap. You were there.” Ben balled his hands, his lips quivering and frustration leaching into his voice. “She vowed because I was her firstborn, I was entitled to a share too.”

Ben was the dowager’s son? Her firstborn? And Doyle was his father?

Vangie threw Ian a stupefied sideways glance. He appeared as astonished as she. She raised her skirt a few inches higher, but no one noticed.

The dowager turned on Ben, scathing contempt contorting her countenance. “You’ll receive nothing. Did you really think I’d give you a single shilling? No, my darling Charlotte shall have everything.”

Tears leaked from Ben’s eyes, and he blinked several times.

She pointed and laughed. “Sniveling fool.”

He staggered backward as if struck, slipping on the muddy ground. “But…but, I’m your son. Your firstborn. I’ve done everything you asked. Everything.” He sent a perplexed glance toward Ian and Vangie. “I put horseshoe nails under their saddles.” He gestured toward them. “I’ve worked in the stables all these months. Sneaked around, doing your bidding—”

“You’re a bastard,” his mother hissed, her face twisted with rage and hatred.

“No!” Ben screamed, charging at her.

She fired her gun, but nothing happened. Crying out, she hurled it at him.

He easily deflected it and grabbed her by the throat. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you,” he said, choking on gut-wrenching sobs. “You never loved me. Why couldn’t you love me?”

Eyes bulging, Lucinda clawed at his hands all the while making rattling, gagging noises.

Sir Doyle wrapped his beefy arms around Ben, trying to pry him off the dowager. “Let go, boy.” He jerked hard then harder still. “Damn you, let go!”

Vangie never would’ve believed the scrawny young man could be so strong.

Waves from the pond crashed over the bridge.

Ian clamped a hand around her upper arm and inched them backward. Step by torturous step, they edged away from the grappling forms.

The magistrate slipped on the slick wood, losing his balance. He teetered precariously, his arms churning like a miniature windmill. He stumbled and slid about before plowing into Lucinda and Ben. The trio crashed into the rotten railing, and it gave way with a resounding crack. Shrieking, they toppled into the roiling water.

The bridge jerked and quivered, listing further. It creaked and groaned, as one by one, the supporting posts snapped.

Ian grabbed her hand. “Run, Vangie!”

They raced the few remaining steps toward land. Just as the footbridge tore loose from its piling, he snatched her into his arms and jumped the last foot. The far end shuddered, sinking beneath the frothing waves.

Vangie clutched Ian, straining to see through the curtain of rain. “Where are they?” She swiped at the droplets streaming down her face. They were warm. Tears. “I don’t see them, Ian.”