Balthazar did not think she could bear the scrutiny and the laughter over it. It had been a harebrained plan, but it had also been an earnest one.
Softly, he said to Van Doren, “I think after we retrieve her, we simply say that Mondrian was all along looking for a kidnap victim. Miss Mayton stepped out, and the carriage took off.”
“The earl thinks his daughter left in Lady Hightower’s carriage,” Van Doren whispered. “How do we explain that?”
Good Lord. She’d involved Lady Hightower!
“Lady Hightower is a friend of mine, I will talk to her. We’ll say something. She was taken ill and sent a note that was intercepted by Mondrian so it could be Mondrian himself that arrived. Nobody will believehisoutlandish account of it.”
“Of course they won’t,” Van Doren whispered heatedly. “They don’t know the Benningtons like I do!”
Balthazar smiled to himself. No, thetoncertainly did not know what a Bennington lady was capable of, and that was well.
The first church bell rang eleven o’clock.
They raised their pistols and raced up the rickety stairs to Mondrian’s lair.
*
Rosalind paced theroom, fire poker in hand. She’d tried to use it to break the lock on the door with no success.
Very suddenly, she could hear noise. A lot of noise. Glass breaking, wood splintering, shouts. What was happening?
She ran to the side of the door, pressing herself against the wall. Should one of her kidnappers burst in here, he would find himself whacked to the ground.
“Shrimps, I mean Lord Dedmont, come next to me. We must be ready to fight and run.”
Shrimps hauled himself up and trudged over. “I’ll only promise I can run. I never fought anybody in my life.”
“Neither have I, but I’m willing to try.”
She could hear pounding feet running through the apartment. Then a shout. Was that Darden? She could not be sure, but it sounded like his timbre.
A key rasped in the lock, the door handle turned, and the door swung open.
Rosalind raised the fire poker. The coachman came through the doorway and she brought her weapon down as hard as she could.
The coachman staggered. He turned, looking dazed. Then he fell to the floor.
Pounding feet. Another person was coming. Rosalind positioned herself again. She brought the iron down as soon as she saw his shadow.
A second man was felled.
“Rosalind!” she heard from another room.
“Darden!”
Her brother raced into the room, almost tripping over the two men who lay on the floor.
He grasped her and hugged her. “Thank the lord. You are an awful lot of trouble,” he said, holding her against his chest.
Darden called out the door. “Hamill! We’re in here—bring light!”
Lord Hamill rushed in, shading a candle. He looked around and said, “What happened to Conbatten?”
“Conbatten?” Rosalind asked, pulling away from her brother.
“Darden,” Hamill said, “Find some rope or something to tie up Mondrian. I’ll see to Conbatten.”
