Shock held him captive. He expected more of an armed presence. He had told Charlotte that it was imperative they wait for reinforcements of some sort. But based on what he saw, that would not be necessary.
He’d assumed Broadstreet was involved in this. But he wasn’t here.
And an idea formed.
Chapter 39
Seconds ticked into minutes as Charlotte waited anxiously with the horse for Anthony to return. Her nervous impatience impacted her sense of time, and she had no idea if a quarter of an hour or an hour had passed. She focused her attention on the decrepit structure with steadfast intensity. The fact that her baby might be in there, cold and scared, sent a bolt of fire through her. It took everything she had not to take the emeralds, burst through the door, and demand her baby back.
But she had promised Anthony she would wait for his return, and had she not just learned her lesson? It was not wise to do this alone. What was more, she did not want to do it alone. She trusted Anthony—genuinely trusted him.
When he did finally emerge through the grass and trees, she secured the horse to the tree and rushed to him. “What did you find?”
He drew a deep breath and stepped past her to the horse. “Two horses tied in the back. I was able to creep up to the cottage and peer in one of the back windows.”
“And Henry?”
Anthony nodded and pulled another pistol from the satchel. “He’s there.”
Relief, powerful and enthusiastic, overcame her.
“’Tis only one large room in the cottage, which is helpful for us,” he continued. “Timmons and Rebecca are in there. That’s it.”
She frowned. “No one else?”
“Not that I saw. And I watched for quite a while. Rebecca’s sitting near Henry, who appeared to be sleeping, and Timmons was sitting at a table, cleaning his pistol, so at least for the moment it is in pieces and not useable.”
Indignation flared at the report that Rebecca was near her son, and fresh determination surged within her. “What do you want to do?”
He held up the pistol and fixed his gaze on her. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“No. I’ve never even held one.”
“If we are going to do this now, while there are only the two of them, you will need this.”
She licked her lips and nodded eagerly. “Of course. I will do whatever is necessary.”
He handed it to her.
It was far heavier and colder than she’d imagined.
“We’ll leave the horse here and go around to the back of the house. The door will likely be locked, but I saw the latch on another door through the window, and I’m certain I can kick it in. We must take them by surprise; ’twill give us the upper hand. When we get inside, point your pistol at Rebecca, and I’ll handle Timmons. But don’t shoot. I will instruct Rebecca to step away from Henry, at which time you will give me your pistol and put Henry on the floor behind you. There is a rope in my satchel. You will then tie her to a chair, and I will cover you. Then you will tie Timmons. Do you think you can do it?”
Doubts swirled. Never had she held a pistol. Never had she tied anyone with a rope. “I-I think so.”
“Charlotte, you must know you can do it. Otherwise you will fumble. Do you understand?”
She nodded, garnering every bit of confidence she could muster. “Yes, I can do it.”
“Once they are both bound and secure, we will return here when Walstead arrives with the others. Keep in mind that Henry will likely scream during the bustle. Do not let that distract you.”
He gave her directions on how to use the weapon, and she did her best to retain them. Point the pistol. Tie the rope. Get Henry. He made it all sound so simple and matter-of-fact. He might be used to doing this sort of thing, but it struck fear deep in her core. For one wrong move, one mistake, could spell disaster for them all.
“Give me the King’s Prize,” he said abruptly, interrupting her thoughts. “I’d rather it be on my person than yours in case anything goes awry.”
Alarm pricked at the statement. “What do you think could go wrong?”
He jerked his head, and she retrieved the pouch from her pocket. “Let’s just hope nothing does.”
A confident energy simmered about Anthony now, one she’d never encountered before. She’d always known him to be strong and determined, but his presence of mind and coolness in such a treacherous event astounded her.
He retrieved the rope from the satchel and hoisted it over his shoulder. “I’ll carry this in and give it to you once we are there. It’s heavy, so prepare yourself for that fact so you aren’t taken off guard when you go to use it. Ready?”
Perspiration began to gather on her brow, despite the cold breeze. The sequence of events from the time she’d left Wolden House reenacted in her mind. She nodded with determination, more to bolster her confidence than his.
“If anything goes wrong, anything at all, you do exactly as I say. And if anything happens to me, you get Henry and you run. Hear me?”
At the warning she sobered.
He reached for her hand, and his expression softened. “We are going to get Henry. And then we will start on a new life together, right?”
She smiled, despite the nervous tremor coursing through her.
He leaned toward her, kissed her once more, and squeezed her hand. “Time to go.”
Chapter 40
Anthony faced the door. Charlotte was right behind him. All was silent and unsettlingly still.
His heart drummed wildly—a rapid staccato within his chest. Just as it used to before a battle.
He knew what was before him—the possibility that something would go amiss, the possibility that he might be injured or even die.
But this time the stakes were even greater. For Charlotte was right behind him. And Henry was inside. Both were relying on him to make the right decisions.
He ignored the voice within him telling him he should have made Charlotte return home, that they should have waited for reinforcements. But by dusk, more people could arrive here. As it was now, they were evenly matched.
He glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte. She’d left her cape with the horse for ease of movement, and he’d left his coat behind. The wind was ripping at her gown and at her hair, and yet she did not look afraid. Instead, she nodded encouragingly.
He refocused his attention on the door.
One swift kick should do it.
Three. Two. One.
With every ounce of strength Anthony possessed, he kicked the heel of his boot toward the door’s wooden center. Wood splintering shattered the morning stillness and Anthony rushed, taking an immediate assessment.
One room.
Timmons still at the table.
Rebecca in the corner.
Henry crying.
Anthony aimed his pistol straight at Timmons.
Charlotte raised hers toward Rebecca.
“Do as we say, or we will shoot.” Anthony stomped toward Timmons. “On your feet and against the wall.”
Timmons’s face blanched, and hardness glazed his light-chestnut eyes. He stumbled back, nearly tipping the chair in surprise. His weapon still lay in pieces on the table.
Anthony refused to break his glare on Timmons. “Stand up, Timmons, and against the wall. Now! Rebecca, step away from Henry.”