Page 33 of A Lady's Past
The carriage jerked forward.
More yelling as the horses broke into a run.
Jacques’s eyes shone bright as he pulled Diana and Honoria to the floor of the carriage. “Stay down. We must be under attack.”
They turned a corner and Diana toppled on her side. She couldn’t help the short scream of surprise.
A gun’s report rent the air.
A sudden stop tipped the carriage. Jacques threw himself against the other wall and kept them upright. When the rocking stopped, he drew a gun from under the seat. “Stay here, ladies.”
Jacques reached for the door just as the barrel of a pistol appeared through the window and the end touched the side of Diana’s head.
Her heart, which had been pounding, stopped and lodged itself in her throat.
Victor Caron said, “You may put the weapon down, Laurent, or I shall be forced to harm Miss MacLeod, and neither of us want that.”
With a French curse, Jacques put the gun on the floor.
Something dark jutted through the opposite window and hit Jacques on the back of the head.
He crumpled to the floor.
Diana screamed and knelt next to him. She felt the back of his head, and the sticky, warm blood sent terror through her. His even breathing was the only thing keeping her sane in the eruption of madness.
Hand over her mouth, Honoria watched with wide, terrified eyes.
“Now, Diana, you have been very bad, but if you come quietly and finish your job, all will be well.” Victor’s silky voice nauseated her. His French accent lifted with arrogance and none of the joy that hearing Jacques speak gave her.
“I’m not going to help you.”
He pointed the gun at Honoria. “Laurent will likely die because of you. You do not want another death on your hands. If you say that again, I will kill the old woman.”
The sweetest, almost bored sigh pushed from Honoria’s lips. “That would be a shame. I’m terribly rich, you know. If I die now, no one will benefit from three very profitable marriages.”
“What are you blathering about?” Victor tore open the door. His eyes had narrowed, but he was listening.
“Oh yes, I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend. I would think you quite stupid to kill me before you extorted some of it. What kind of criminals are you?” She examined her gloved hands.
Victor grabbed Honoria’s arm and pulled her down to the street. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a patriot.”
“That’s funny, I’ve never heard of patriots robbing people at gunpoint in the streets of London,” Honoria said, as if she didn’t notice he’d manhandled her.
Waving his gun, Victor ordered, “Get out of the carriage, Diana.”
“Lady Chervil has nothing to do with this. Leave her with the carriage and I’ll come with you quietly.”
Shoving the gun barrel painfully against Diana’s ribs, Victor smiled, enjoying her discomfort. “I suggest you come quietly, or I’ll kill your ancient friend here and leave her body in the street. She’ll be covered in snow in an hour and the other English pigs will trample her on their way home from those parties they so love.”
Jacques’s unconscious form lay across the carriage, his head and right arm hanging out the door. She prayed he would live. Part of her wanted to cry, while the rest wanted to scratch Victor’s eyes out. Neither choice was a good one in her current circumstance.
A man’s body lay on the ground. It was hard to tell in the dark, but someone that big could only be Bertram. How many more people would suffer for her sake? She gave Victor a nod.
He grabbed Honoria and brought her to another carriage painted all black. With no other option, Diana followed and climbed up next to her friend. “You should not have done that, my lady. They might have left you behind with the carriage.”
The carriage shifted as the driver climbed up.
Honoria whispered. “You are mine to watch over, Diana. I would not leave you to be dragged about on your own by these men. We shall survive this, mark my words.”
