Page 112 of His Wife, the Spy
She twisted and lifted the plaster likeness. Earlier in life, she had been disappointed to discover the cheapness of the reproduction. Now, as she lifted it over her head and hurled it at her stalker, she was thankful.
It hit him on the chest and shoulder, just enough to push him against the wall in a daze. His pistol hit the floor and fired in a thunderous roar. Annabel shrieked and leapt backward as the balls thudded into the opposite wall, burying themselves in the newly painted plaster.
She made for the back of the house and the servants’ stairs.
Her hat blocked her view, and its wide brim and bright color made her a moving target. She unpinned it and tossed it aside, wincing as the pin pricked her thumb. Blood bloomed across her glove.
She reached the landing and dithered over which direction to go. Collins’s heavy steps on the front stairs made the decision for her.
Hiding the hatpin in the folds of her skirt, Annabel turned toward the rooms at the end of the hall in search of a place to hide until help arrived.
*
“Why didn’t youstop her?” Jasper asked as he tightened his grip on his pistol.
Stapleton, a shotgun in his lap, gave a long-suffering sigh. “Sir. I could hardly lock her in her room like a child.”
Jasper didn’t blame the man for his impertinence. He’d asked the same question at least twice since they’d all climbed into the carriage, not to mention shouting it while standing in the hall.
“Tell me again.” Anything to keep his mind from what could happen to Annabel as they crept down Piccadilly toward St. James Street.
“The…lady knocked on the back door, brandishing your card and demanding to wait until you returned. Since your mother and sisters were expected home, I thought it best to ask Lady Ramsbury for assistance.”
So he’d asked Annabel to meet with Sally in the drawing room, which still smelled of cloying roses.
“After a few moments, she showed the visitor out the way she’d come. I thought the meeting had gone well—they bothseemed in good spirits, as much as I could tell—but then your wife went upstairs for her hat and coat.”
And said she wasgoing home.
It was easy to believe she’d been upset after meeting a doxy from the docks who bore his calling card. He’d spent precious moments raging that she’d assumed the worst of him—again.
But then he’d calmed and seen past the superficial. Sally wouldn’t have come to Mayfair on a lark, and the only connection they had was a knowledge of Collins.
If Kit’s campaign to split Collins and Spencer had worked, it would be predictable for the man to travel from Wales to London and confront his partner in crime.
And it would be equally predictable for Spencer, who by now knew his scheme was collapsing, to set Collins loose on his enemies.
Considering those points, if Annabel was fleeing from Collins, she would never return to her family home and risk them. After all, she’d fled Lambourn House rather than risk Mother and the girls. Going to Chilworth Manor or Kennet Hall would require a public coach and waiting for the day of travel.
There was only one home remaining, though it was empty of anything but dust and shrouds. Jasper found himself hoping she considered Ramsbury Househerhome but praying she hadn’t gone there alone.
“I could run faster than this,” he grumbled as he looked out the window.
“That would be a fine news story.Armed Marquess Dashes through Piccadilly with Bastard Cousin in Frantic Pursuit.” Kit touched the barrel of Jasper’s pistol, encouraging him to lower it. “We also shouldn’t brandish our weapons out the windows.”
Jasper set the gun on the seat between him and Travis and dropped his elbows to his knees. Maybe they would move fasterif he didn’t watch. And, indeed, it did sound as though the horses began to make better speed.
If Collins had followed Annabel to St. James Street, God only knew what they would find. If he had caught her before she’d reached the house, they might not find her at all.
Travis put a hand on his arm, which sent his heels to the floor. The clip-clopping steps ceased.
Three sympathetic, yet irritated, faces stared at him.
“Apologies,” he mumbled.
They made the turn from Piccadilly onto St. James, and Lawrence pulled the team to a stop. Kit put a hand to Jasper’s chest, making him wait until last to exit.
“Grown man,” he grumbled.
