Mr. Stuart’s eyes widened as Trevor and Anderley both appeared out of the shadows in the doorway leading toward the front of the house.
My brother nodded, having deduced what Mr. Stuart had not said out loud. “How many men are with him?”
“Th-Three,” he stammered.
“Where’s the fourth?”
“Gone to Beckford to deliver the bones.”
We could only hope Lord Fleming and his men would capture that one.
“Is there another way into that cabin besides the front door?” I asked hurriedly.
Mr. Stuart shook his head.
Trevor frowned. “Then we’ll just have to lure them out.” He glared at Mr. Stuart. “And you’re going to help us.”
I thought for a moment Mr. Stuart would turn coward and refuse. But the martial gleam in Trevor’s eye and the panic in mine must have convinced him otherwise. “What should I do?”
? ? ?
I sat tall on Figg’s back, staring down from the ridgetop at the farmhouse, waiting for our signal. Anderley’s horse danced sideways beside me, sensing our anxiety.
I wished Trevor would have let me be the one to crouch below the cabin window listening for trouble, but he’d absolutely refused. He wanted me as far from the thugs as possible, in case our plan didn’t work. In the end, it took him pointing out that he was the better shot for me to relent. If one of the men tried to kill Gage before fleeing, someone with accurate aim needed to be there to stop them. Inexperienced as I was, in close quarters I was just as likely to shoot Gage as I was his attacker, and I certainly didn’t want that.
So I’d taken the reins of his stallion and driven both him and Figg up the ridge with Anderley to await our part in the charade. I only prayed this worked, or else the body snatchers would have control over both the man I loved and my brother.
My nerves stretched as the minutes ticked by, each one a moment longer that Gage was in the criminals’ custody, a moment longer than I could bear. I bit my lip against the desire to scream in frustration and fear.
“Is it true then?” Anderley asked, pulling my attention though not my eyes from the scene below.
“Is what true?”
“That you are engaged to Mr. Gage?”
I darted a glance at the valet, seeing his eyes were also trained below, his expression carefully neutral. I wondered if he’d learned that trick from his employer.
I supposed he was referring to my comment in The Black Bull. Though it wasn’t really his business—not yet—I felt he deserved an answer. After all, he cared for Gage, too.
“It will be,” I told him, and then added more soberly. “If he’ll still have me.”
I didn’t expect Anderley to answer, but after a moment of silence, he muttered a single syllable. “Good.”
I looked at him again, and this time his gaze met mine. A mutual understanding seemed to pass between us, and for the first time I felt more than a general tolerance for the fastidious man. Perhaps it was the cut on his forehead that he’d refused to have tended, or the bruise blossoming across his left cheekbone from the pub brawl, but I thought it was more likely the affinity we seemed to share in our affection for Gage.
I returned my attention to the scene below, just as the door to the cottage opened, casting a ray of light out over the yard. I forced myself to count to twenty, and then declared, “Time for the cavalry.”
Anderley and I set off down the hill with the three horses, urging their hooves to make as much noise as possible.
At that very moment, Mr. Stuart was warning the body snatchers of the impending arrival of a gang of angry men from the west, and urging them to flee. Anderley and I were supposed to be that gang. We hoped the body snatchers would prove cowards and panic instead of standing to confront us. It all hinged on how stirred up Mr. Stuart could get them, and how much noise Anderley and I could make with just three horses.
Fortunately, the rough downhill descent was not exactly conducive to a stealthy approach. The horses’ hooves slipped and thumped, sending rocks cascading down the slope. I pulled hard on Trevor’s stallion’s reins—apologizing as I did so—to make him squeal loudly in protest. The sound echoed through the darkness.
Anderley and I had no way of knowing whether our plan had worked, so we continued the charade up until the moment we reached the farmhouse. “Check the house,” he shouted while I remained quiet, lest my female voice give us away. We cantered the horses down the property, waiting for some indication of what was happening at the cabin.
When finally a shadowy figure emerged around the side of the house, we didn’t know if he was friend or foe.
“It’s all clear,” Mr. Stuart exclaimed. “They turned tail and ran.”
But for how long?