She shook her head. “I won’t leave without you.”
“See?” crowed Sir Julian. “She wants to stay here with me. She’s going to stay here until our common licence arrives and then we’re taking the coach into Market Harborough to be married at the church of St Dionysius. I have it all arranged. I’ve sent a message to the rector there. He’s expecting us.”
Miranda swallowed, hoping Harry wouldn’t say something to make the situation worse. “That is a very kind offer of yours, Sir Julian, but I am still in mourning, as you know.” And here she indicated her black armband. “I could not possibly marry for at least another year. You know that because I explained it to you not very long ago. You must remember that, surely? I have to wait.”
Harry put his hand on her arm to push her away from him.
A mistake.
Sir Julian’s face contorted in rage. “Unhand the lady now. Unhand my affianced bride or, by God, you’ll regret it.”
Harry did not release his hold. “Move to the side, Miranda,” he said, his voice low. “Pistols are not known for their accuracy and I wouldn’t like you to be too close if it goes off. By mistake.”
They were standing less than ten feet from the pistol in question and Sir Julian was a good shot. Miranda had no doubt at all that he would hit his target if he fired it. If she were the one with the pistol, she would have been sure to have hit him.
“I think I would like to go home now,” she said, summoning up her most gentle and persuasive tones. “But not by myself. Why don’t we all go together? That would be agreeable to me. We can all have tea at my farmhouse. So long as you put away that pistol of yours, Sir Julian. They frighten me so, as I’ve always been afraid of guns of all sorts.” A lie, as she was herself a crack shot. She put on her most persuasive voice. “Please, as a favor to me, Sir Julian. Put it down. I would be so much happier if you would do so. I am just a weak and frightened woman and you wouldn’t want to cause me to have a fit of the vapors, would you? I might faint.”
Sir Julian looked down at the pistol as though seeing it for the first time. “This?” he said. “This? You want me to put it down?” He waved it once again at Harry. “I should shoot this upstart for you. That’s what I should do.”
Miranda drew a deep shuddering breath. “No, you shouldn’t. I will be very upset with you if you do anything as ridiculous as that, and I will most certainly never speak to you again. I don’t want you to shoot anyone for that would end with you having to be put in prison. And you don’t want that, do you? I know I don’t.” What she was thinking, though, was that where he belonged was Bedlam, and as soon as possible.
“They’ll not send me to prison for shooting an upstart like him,” Sir Julian said, full of righteous confidence. “For defending the lady I love. My wife to be. My fellow magistrates would never dare to prosecute me, one of their own. I’ve got impunity, have no fear. I can do just what I like to an upstart like him who has broken into my house. He’s a burglar, that’s what he is.”
“Move away from me, Miranda,” Harry repeated, through gritted teeth. “Do as I tell you.” And he gave her a little shove.
The pistol, which had been beginning to droop in Sir Julian’s hand probably because he was finding it heavy to hold up for so long, swept up again, his bulging eyes narrowed and in that split moment Mirandasaw his finger tighten on the trigger, as though it were the only thing in the room, blown up to fill her view and dominating everything.
“No!” Without thinking, she threw herself to her right. Not away from Harry but towards him. “Don’t!” The loudest noise she’d ever heard filled the room, something punched her hard in the stomach and the stink of gunpowder filled the air. Harry caught her as she fell and she knew nothing more.
