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Outskirts of London

Fernleigh House Garden

Early May 1819—late afternoon

Are we going to die?

Rigid and trembling, Georgine Thackerly stood beside her closest friends—Roxina Danforth, Matilda Fitzlloyd, Aubriella Matherfield, and Claire Granlund in the Fitzlloyds’ magnificent garden.

Rufus Desmond—dangerous and despicable with a soul blacker than the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat—had dared to trespass into the private sanctuary and now stood with a gloating grin spreading across his face. According to Roxina, the blackguard would just as easily shoot them as stomp upon a beetle with his boot heel.

Icy dread engulfed Georgine.

“You are trespassing, sir.” Matilda swallowed before continuing, her voice tremulous but even. “I must ask you to leave at once before I send for the constable.”

“Not without Miss Danforth,” Desmond responded with arrogant confidence.

“As there are five of us and only three of you, how do you propose to take Roxina?” Aubriella challenged him, and Georgine couldn’t help but admire her bravado.

He waved his pistol, sunlight gleaming off the barrel, as his two unsavory compatriots openly ogled the women. His voice steeped in smugness, Desmond said, “We are armed, and I seriously doubt you ladies have a pistol or a knife hidden in your skirts.”

Something Georgine would seriously consider in the future. That and shooting lessons.

If she survived this ordeal.

She raised her chin in challenge. “Yes, but we can scream and cause a ruckus. People will come running.”

She sounded far more confident than she felt.

“That would be foolish.” Shaking his head, Desmond let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll shoot the first woman who screams.”

The women gasped in unison.

Georgine had no doubt the fiend would shoot them, without compunction or remorse.

Desmond shifted his pistol toward Roxina. “I still intend to take Miss Danforth, with or without your cooperation.”

“If I come willingly,” Roxina said evenly, “will you leave my friends unharmed?”

“No, Roxina,” Georgine whispered.

Desmond tilted his head in mock consideration.

“There’s no need for you to sacrifice yourself, Roxina.” Shelby Tellinger eased through the opening in the gate behind Desmond.

Caught by surprise, Desmond stiffened.

The madman’s carelessness sent a tiny quiver of hope skipping along Georgine’s pulse.

An instant later, Robyn Fitzlloyd slipped into view.

Both men wielded guns.

Her pulse jumped again, and relief coursed through her. All hope was not lost. Never had Georgine been so glad to see Robyn…and Shelby too, of course.

Surely Desmond would leave now.