“Ah, there you are, Avondale,” Sir John said with mock affability. “You may tell your friends to come out as well.”
Slowly, Peter raised his hands as the other watchers emerged and followed suit. He could only pray Georgie would remain sensibly in the stable. “How do you think you will escape, Sir John?”
“Easily enough. I have a carriage waiting down the lane. It will take me straight back to Sussex, just in time for Sir Anthony’s visit.”
“I’m afraid you will find Sir Anthony’s visit has been canceled.”
The gun wavered for a moment, then steadied, still pointing at Peter.
“Are you trying that stratagem a second time? I won’t be lied to again.”
“It is no lie.” Cautiously, Peter reached into his pocket. “The true letter arrived the day after the Harvest Festival. Sir Anthonyhas granted my request to transfer custody of the otters to my wife, and therefore to me.”
Sir John came close enough to snatch the letter from Peter before backing away. Peter kept his hands up as the other man looked down to read the letter.
This was his chance.
Peter lunged at Sir John, grabbing the other man’s arm to force the barrel of the pistol to point at the sky. Sir John cursed violently and they wrestled over it, each of them trying to get control.
“Stand where you are!”
With a shock, Peter looked up to see Georgie holding the blunderbuss from the stables, Robby close behind her.
She pointed it directly at Sir John.
For a moment, the other man looked frightened, but he re-arranged his face into a sneer instead. “Are you planning to shoot me, cousin? Over some animals?”
She pulled back the flintlock, and Sir John flinched.
“Not over the otters. Over my husband.”
Seeming in shock, Sir John dropped the pistol to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. Peter retrieved it and backed away, moving out of the enclosure to stand next to Georgie.
Mr. Kilvington came puffing up, followed by the two watchers, Mr. Coverdale and Mr. Banner. “Well done, Lord Peter. Lady Peter.”
Georgie nodded at him, but kept the blunderbuss aimed squarely at her cousin. At Peter’s gesture, Sir John walked out of the enclosure, face suffused with rage as he looked from one to the other of them.
Kilvington said, “As the local magistrate, I’ll take this man into custody, shall I? Trespassing and attempted theft?”
“More than that, sir. I have been making inquiries into my wife’s dowry and inheritance, and there seems to be quite a bit of it missing.”
“Ah!” Kilvington said. “Embezzlement as well, eh? Move along, then.”
Mr. Coverdale and Mr. Banner came up on each side of Sir John and grasped his arms to lead him away.
Georgie did not lower the blunderbuss until the group was nearly out of sight. Then she allowed it to droop down, barrel pointing at the ground.
“Did you mean it?” Peter asked. His breath caught as she looked at him, a tentative trust beginning to grow there once more.
“Yes,” Georgie said. “I meant it. You mean even more to me than my otters.”
Peter laughed and brushed his lips against hers even as Mr. Banner bustled up to them.
“There’s the hearing to do,” Banner said cheerfully, his moustache twitching with delight. “Mr. Kilvington asks that we all meet at his house to give testimony in an hour.”
“We shall be there,” Peter declared. “Though Lady Peter must change out of her breeches first.”
It would beridiculous for her to bring a bucketful of smelly fish and kitchen scraps to the otters in one of her new dresses when she was already in her breeches, Georgie decided. She headed into the kitchen and startled Mrs. Barwick and Annie at the table preparing breakfast. Annie gaped at Georgie, clearly scandalized that the rector’s wife would prance around wearing breeches.
