“Once I reach my majority, I will have the funds to pay you.”
“I’m not interested.”
Georgie glanced back at her pillow, and she knew she needed a distraction to retrieve her muff pistol. She was grateful that she had taken Evie’s advice and slept with it under her pillow.
“Come along,” the Bow Street Runner ordered.
She feigned outrage. “I can’t possibly go out in public in my nightgown,” she said. “It is entirely inappropriate to do so.”
“You will have no choice but to do so. Besides, a coach is waiting out front to take us to your townhouse.”
“May I put my wrapper on?” she asked.
“Make it quick,” he snapped.
Georgie reached for the wrapper, which rested on a hook by the bed. She turned her back to the Bow Street Runner and slowly put the wrapper on, bending lower as she tied the sash. Once she was done, she slid her hand under her pillow until she found the cold metal of her muff pistol.
“We don’t have all night,” the Runner complained.
In a swift motion, Georgie straightened, turned around, and pointed her weapon at the man. “I am going nowhere.”
Shock, then surprise, registered on the man’s face. “Where did you get a pistol?”
“I sleep with one under my pillow.”
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
“I don’t mind it, especially since I was told that it might come in handy.”
The man furrowed his brows. “What is with you women and your guns? I bet you don’t even know how to use it.”
“I assure you that I do, and I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”
With a frown on his lips, the Bow Street Runner said, “It would appear that we are at a standstill, then.”
“How did you find me?”
“It was rather an easy feat, considering you brought a household staff with you to the rookeries,” he said. “If you wanted to blend in, you might have wanted to forego the butler.”
Fair enough. “I want you to inform my brother that I have no intention of going home.”
“He won’t be pleased by that.”
“I don’t care,” Georgie said. “He shouldn’t have arranged a marriage for me to a despicable man.”
“Listen, lady, I was just hired to do a job, and I will see it done,” the Runner said, clearly exasperated. “It is time to end this and get you home, where you belong.”
“This is where I belong.”
The Bow Street Runner chuckled dryly. “You don’t belong in an orphanage,” he remarked. “You are the daughter of a viscount.”
“This is my home for now, and no one is going to take it away from me.”
All humor left the man’s face and he reached behind him, retrieving a pistol. “It would appear that you aren’t the only one armed.”
Georgie’s eyes fixated on his pistol. “It would appear so.”
“Have you ever shot anyone before, Miss Holbrooke?”
