Page 73 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
But this was her personal nightmare. If they were right... her own uncle had killed her father! And wanted her dead. It couldn’t be more personal than that.
She supposed she ought to let Rafe do things legally. That’s how he was, and she certainly appreciated that he wouldn’t burn down anyone’s home or push them under a carriage. But she had learned to defend herself by any means available, since there had never been anyone else to do so. She didn’t have any qualms about using whatever means necessary to stop a scoundrel.
She simply didn’t know how.
As the men went off to set a trap, the women gathered to worry in the withdrawing room after dinner. Verity refused to sit. She simply couldn’t, not while Rafe and others were prepared to protect her worthless life.
Cuddling Marmie, she swallowed her fear of speaking to an audience of respectable ladies. “I think we should arm ourselves,” she said uncertainly. When conversation stopped and all eyes turned to her, she trembled, but it didn’t matter if she made a foolof herself. No one else should be harmed because of her. “We have no way of knowing that my uncle is at the inn. If he is in Gravesyde, it would be easy for him to learn that I am here, at the manor.”
Minerva was instantly out of her seat. “Thank you. I agree. I am comfortable with a pistol and a knife. How about you?”
Not having thought that far, Verity gave her cane a wry glance. “A sword? A frying pan?”
Patience instantly popped up. “I have sharp hoes!”
Lavender removed a vicious pair of scissors from her sewing basket. Coming in late, Lady Elsa—not only a cook but an excellent horsewoman—suggested riding crops and whips and returned to the kitchen for suitable weaponry for the others.
“We need a signal,” Mrs. Huntley—Clare—decided. “If we are to spread out, we need to sound an alarm if we see anything untoward.”
The curate’s mother, also the manor’s housekeeper, arrived carrying a broom and a carpet beater. She nodded her head at this suggestion. “The place is too large for us to see each other. Perhaps if we shout something innocent, likehuzzah?”
“Hallelujah,” Patience said with a grin. “I could sing it.”
Verity loved that these women had immediately leapt to her aid. She feared they would hurt themselves, however, and that had never been her intention. “I know you have a footman and butler at the main entrances. Do we need to guard all the doors?”
“I’ll see that we have maids and footmen at every entrance to sound an alert, although guarding every window, or even room, is impossible,” the housekeeper admitted.
“Quincy and his son can patrol the main corridor,” Minerva suggested. “Does anyone know how to unlock Hunt’s gun vault? They should probably be armed.”
“I do.” Clare rushed out to find the ex-boxer butler and his son.
“I suppose this is good practice,” Thea said with a frown. “We are isolated and can’t expect the men to always protect us. I mightmanage a rapier if all I need to do is stab someone’s toes. I hope the boys are safely in bed and don’t hear us or they’ll be down directly.”
“I can’t imagine the schoolroom is in any danger,” Minerva said, “but we should send a note up to Mr. Birdwhistle to warn him of what we are doing. He might be a little alarmed by an outbreak ofhallelujah.”
Verity tried to slip out with the others scattering to find weapons, but Minerva caught up with her. “I’m not letting Paul go into danger without me,” she whispered resolutely. “So whatever you’re planning, I’m with you.”
“Perhaps, for the first time in my life, I am not planning anything,” Verity admitted. “I simply know I cannot let anyone be harmed for my sake. I’ve lost too much. I have nothing. No one will miss me if I’m gone. But the rest of you... have no reason to sacrifice yourselves.”
Minerva made an inelegant noise. “Rafe would burn down the town if anything happened to you. You are one of us now. You are not alone. We do not let criminals roam free. It may be akin to eradicating rodents, hopeless, but crime has to be addressed.”
“A female army of constables?” Verity suggested in amusement, only because she was very, very afraid.
They followed Clare into the captain’s study. Verity claimed a small sword. If she used her cane, she only had one spare hand. She was far more comfortable with the cane. Minerva took a pistol and expertly loaded it, then added a dirk to her arsenal. She was petite and all the swords were large and heavy.
Verity tried to slip away again while the rest of the weapons were distributed, but Minerva stayed with her. She supposed the librarian had a reason to be concerned about her fiancé. Mr. Upton was, after all, dressed as Verity.
“I don’t want to ruin my new gown,” Verity decided, trying to balance her weapons. “I need to change.”
“Boots,” Minerva agreed. “Aprons for pockets. Cloaks for concealment.”
They hurried upstairs. Several of the others apparently had the same thought. Verity could hear them down the family side of the corridor as she entered her chamber in a front guestroom. Lavender had brilliantly designed her dinner gown for someone without a lady’s maid, but it took a few minutes to remove it and pull on her old blacks. She tucked Marmie into a drawer of linen with a torn handkerchief the kitten liked to shred.
At the main stairs, she met Minerva wearing a concealing cloak. Together, they hurried through the manor and slipped into the dark night from the unused east wing by the drive, making certain a footman locked it behind them.
“The original medieval manor block was built like a fortress,” Minerva said as they cautiously crossed to the stable without a lantern. “Whoever added the new wings added too many doors and windows for it to ever be used as a fortification again.”
“Sharpshooters in all the towers?” Verity suggested, trying to keep her tone light. She had utterly no idea what she was doing but she welcomed the idea of a whip and riding crop.
