“Come at me!” Rafe yelled, trying to distract the men from his sisters. And yes, Beatrix was his sister in every way that mattered, in a way that blood, such as that which he shared with his uncle, did not.
Two of the men turned their attention to Rafe. One called, “Flank him!”
Rafe was ready for them. He held up his right arm as a shield while wielding the knife in his left. That his left was his dominant hand usually gave him an advantage, as his opponents weren’t expecting that.
Holding off one with his arm, he lunged toward the other, aiming his knife for the underside of the man’s chin. While the one man’s blade sliced through Rafe’s sleeve and nicked his flesh, he caught the other’s jaw. Unfortunately, he moved fast enough to avoid real damage.
With a low growl, Rafe threw his leg out and tripped the man who’d cut his arm, sending him to the ground.
“Rafe, I have a pistol!” Beatrix shouted.
“Use it!” he called.
The report of the weapon filled the night air as one of the men fell to the stones.
Suddenly, there were more people, and a moment later, the remaining three brigands were on the ground.
Harry stood over them, pistol in hand. “You’re all going to face the magistrate. I work for Bow Street.”
One of the men swore.
Rafe moved to stand next to Harry. “Where is Anne?”
The trio stared up at him but said nothing. He bent down and grabbed the one on the left by the front of his coat. “Tell me where she is, or I will cut out your entrails and make you eat them.”
The color drained from the villain’s face as he looked wildly toward Harry. “Ye can’t let ’im do that.”
“I don’t think I can stop him. After all, he’s only trying to prevent you from escaping. Who are you working for?”
“No one,” snapped the man in the middle.
Rafe dropped the first man and transferred his attention to the one who’d just spoken. “You just happen to find yourself dressed like Quality in the middle of a ball to which you weren’t invited with the intent of luring me away.” He put his foot on the man’s neck. “Who are you working for?”
“I’d tell him if I were you,” Harry said blandly.
Eyes wide, the criminal blurted, “Lord Stone. He took the chit with him.”
Rafe pressed his boot down. “Where?”
“Ivy something,” the man croaked.
“Ivy Grove,” Rafe said as he turned and started from the folly.
“Wait!” Harry called, grabbing him by the arm. “You can’t go alone.”
“I don’t care who comes with me, but I’m going now.”
Anthony and Jane arrived with their host, Ripley. The latter man frowned as he surveyed the scene in the folly. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Ripley, we need horses,” Harry said.
The marquess nodded. “Tell the head groom at the stable I said to saddle whatever you need.”
Rafe started toward the house. He was only vaguely aware of the stable’s location, but he’d find it. He ran, but not at the sprint he’d used to get to the folly.
“This way,” Harry said, bumping his arm as he ran by.
Following him, Rafe was heartened to see that not only Harry had come along, but also North and Anthony. They arrived at the stables a few moments later, and Harry took charge, for which Rafe was most grateful. His emotions were a jumbled wreck. He couldn’t imagine Mallory would hurt his goddaughter, but he’d already concluded the man was capable of anything.
If he hurt Anne…
Waiting for the horses to be readied was agony. Rafe paced as the three other men stood stoically. When at last the horses were saddled, Rafe asked which was the fastest.
The head groom indicated a tall black one. “This one here.”
“Are you certain you wish to ride that horse?” North, of course, was aware firsthand of Rafe’s limited skill.
Rafe understood the man’s concern. “Yes.” Rafe pulled himself onto the beast’s back.
“Right behind you,” North said, climbing onto another horse.
They left the stable yard at a walk, and it was an interminable several minutes before they navigated past the dozens of vehicles that had made the trip from London. But once they reached the open lane, Rafe kicked the animal into a full gallop and hoped he possessed enough skill to catch his malevolent uncle before it was too late.
Chapter 18
The swaying of the coach turned Anne’s stomach as she fought her way to consciousness. Her head throbbed, and it took her a moment to recall what had happened. Actually, she didn’t know what had happened at all after one of her godfather’s accomplices had hit her.
Opening her eyes the tiniest amount, she saw the dim interior of the coach. She was on the rear-facing seat, lying down, with her feet dangling over the cushion. Her godfather sat on the opposite seat, his head cast back, eyes closed.
They hit a bump, and Anne groaned as pain exploded in her head. She lifted her hand to press against her skull.
“You’re awake,” Ludlow said. His voice actually held a tinge of concern, and for that Anne wanted to smack him. She wanted to smack him for many things.
“Where are we going?” she croaked.
“Ivy Grove.”
Brixton Park and, more importantly, Rafe were behind them. “You’re a horrible person,” she said, struggling to sit up. Collapsing back against the squab, she breathed heavily as the pain in her head hammered in time with her pulse. “You won’t be able to kill Rafe like you did his parents. He’s smarter than you. More capable too. You see his background unfavorably, but he is well-equipped to survive people worse than you.” She prayed he would be safe. It was one thing to know he was strong and skilled and another to keep faith that he would escape his uncle’s machinations whole when his parents had not.
“Think what you must,” Ludlow said coolly. “I am still your godfather, whom you have always loved. Nothing has changed.”
When he put it like that, she had to fight another wave of nausea. She had loved him. Respected him. In some ways, liked him more than her own father. And he’d always been a murderer. “Everything has changed.” She clenched her jaw as they hit another hole in the road. “I see you for who you truly are. I hope you hang.”
He blew out a breath. “That is, I pray, unlikely. My men will shortly dispatch my nephew, if they haven’t already.”
Anne wished she had a weapon. “There are many who are aware of your crimes, including Rafe’s brother-in-law, who is, if you recall, a Bow Street constable. You will hang.”
“There is no proof of anything I’ve done.” He sounded so calm, so utterly assured of himself. “I’ve been very careful.”
“I know you plotted to kill Rafe, and I will give testimony. That is evidence.”
He frowned at her, his eyes sad in the light from the lantern hanging on one side of the interior. “You don’t have to do that. I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t want you to become a liability.”
“You think I’ll turn my head the other way and simply continue on as if I didn’t know what you are, what you’ve done?” She blinked. “You’re mad.”