He shoved me beneath the round table and told me to stay. Then he and Trevor took off running toward the stairs in a crouch. I wanted to yell at them to stop, but by the time my wits and voice had returned sufficiently to do so, they were already halfway up the stairs. I peered out to watch as they made their way upward, their backs pressed again the wall behind them and their pistols drawn. As they disappeared from my sight, I wanted to stick my head out farther to see where they’d gone, but my self-preservation instincts kicked in and I remained hidden beneath the heavy wooden surface.
I glanced around me, trying to see into the gloom, but all that greeted my gaze was a vast room with hazy shadows at its edges. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with my reticule, trying to extract my pistol. I stopped and forced myself to take a deep breath. I could do no one any good, least of all myself, if I didn’t calm down enough to be able to see and shoot straight.
From above I heard a shout and then the thud of running feet. I wrapped my fingers around the smooth wooden grip of my gun and leaned as far out as I dared to see up toward the top of the stairs. The house fell silent, except for the pounding of my heart in my ears. I strained to hear any sound to indicate Gage’s and Trevor’s whereabouts, my only relief that I hadn’t yet heard another gunshot.
Then I heard a click and shush of sound coming from behind me. I whirled about, narrowing my eyes in an effort to pierce the gloom. A blur of movement finally caught my eye, and then there was another click. I realized it was the sound of a door closing. I followed the progression of the shape, watching as it formed into a man who dashed past me toward the front door. But before he could open it, I sprang from my crouch, my pistol trained on his back.
“Stop! Or I’ll shoot.”
The man skidded to a halt, his shoes crunching in the glass. He wore a long, many-caped greatcoat, but no hat.
“Turn around,” I ordered. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”
He slowly pivoted, his hands stretched out to his sides. When the light from the windows finally fell on his face, I frowned. But his reaction was by far more comical.
His eyes flared wide and his head drew back in astonishment. “Lady Darby!”
“Lord Shellingham,” I replied, echoing him, but with far less shock and awe.
“You . . . you’re working with them?”
I scowled. “Yes. Didn’t you notice me when you fired your gun at us?”
“I didn’t shoot. That was Young.”
I nodded, not really surprised.
I tilted my head, listening for Gage and Trevor again. I wondered if I should yell, to let them know I’d caught one of the men. I decided against it. A shout would also reach the ears of Shellingham’s associates, and I didn’t want them stumbling upon us and turning the situation against me.
“I should have known,” Lord Shellingham snapped bitterly. I turned to focus on his now angry visage. “What with your history, it only makes sense that you’d cast your lot in with a bunch of lowly thugs.”
“What?” I demanded in confusion.
But the sound of Gage’s scolding voice snagged both of our attention. I backed up so that I could better watch their progression down the stairs and keep Lord Shellingham in my sight.
Gage and Trevor together were dragging a repentant Mr. Young between them. Trevor carried a rifle in his other hand, presumably taken from the culprit when they caught up with him.
“I . . . I didn’t know it was you,” Mr. Young stammered in protest. “I would never have shot at you had I known.”
“Who did you think we were?” Gage demanded.
“Let me guess,” I said, turning to glare at Lord Shellingham. “A bunch of lowly thugs?”
He at least had the grace to look sheepish for accusing me of working with a group of body snatchers.
“Ah, Lord Shellingham,” Gage murmured, giving him a hard stare. “I thought it likely you were here as well.”
“Yes, well . . .” He didn’t seem to know how to answer that.
“Where are your staff?”
I was not pleased to see him look even more embarrassed when he admitted, “There are only two. One’s gone to town to purchase supplies, and the other is in the kitchens.”
“Entertaining my valet, no doubt.” Gage eyed our host up and down, from his unruly hair to his scuffed boots. “Kiera, I think you can lower your weapon. Lord Shellingham isn’t going anywhere. At least, not until we’ve had a nice long chat.”
I hesitated, somewhat reluctant to do so. Gage cracked a smile at my obvious aggravation with the young lord. Resisting the impulse, I lowered my pistol and reached down to tuck it back inside my reticule. Feeling his eyes on me, I glared through my lashes at Mr. Young, who was watching me rather slack-jawed.
“Now, is there a place where we might talk?” Gage asked Lord Shellingham, keeping enough bite in his voice to be sure the man understood it wasn’t really a question.
“Yes.” He turned to lead us toward the back of the entry hall, to the door he’d entered through earlier. Gage allowed me to fall in step behind Shellingham, and I derived some enjoyment in the way the young man’s shoulders inched up around his ears. Let him worry I might actually shoot him. It only served him right.