Page 74 of A Stormy Season

His heart had lifted at finding the list, but it sank again when he saw there was no personal note. Had he truly hoped she would write some sort of explanation or apology?

“It’s the list,” he told Jane, then told the driver to go as speedily as possible to Henry Gilchrist’s home.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to Jane. “You did well. You found the list.”

“Wefound the list. That is good. Perhaps now we won’t be attacked in our homes or while leaving a ball.” Jane gave him a crooked smile.

“Yes.” He tucked the list inside his coat pocket, on the opposite side from his gun, then turned sideways on the seat to face her. “Jane, I would like to—” Suddenly Luke noticed a horse and rider following at almost a gallop, and gaining on them.

Jane turned to look and cried out. “That’s one of Lenoir’s guards.”

“Faster!” Luke called to the driver.

The carriage jolted forward but not nearly fast enough to outrun the horse and rider. People on the edges of the street were glaring at them. But just as they turned onto Jane’s street, he heard a shot ring out.

Over his shoulder Luke saw the rider was pointing a pistol at them. “Get down!”

Luke grabbed his pistol in one hand and pushed Jane’s head and shoulders down onto the seat with his other hand.

“Get down on the floor,” he said as another shot rang out.

He took aim and shot at the rider, hitting him in the shoulder.

The carriage careened to one side of the street, and Luke saw that the driver was slumped over and not moving.

One of their rear wheels hit a lamppost, and the carriage lurched sharply to that side. The wheel came off and the axle screeched as it struck the flagstones. It dragged along for several feet before stopping.

Only then did Luke realize he was holding Jane in his arms, bracing with his feet against the side of the carriage, his back propped against the seat.

Jane was gazing up at him, unblinking.

Luke was still clutching his gun in his hand behind Jane’s back, pointed away from her.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

She nodded. As they started to rise from the floor of the carriage, he heard the clatter of hooves coming toward them.

The man who shot the driver held a gun pointed at them. He and his horse were only ten feet away. He held his other arm tucked against his side, while a dark stain widened at his shoulder.

Luke pointed his gun at the man as he moved away from Jane, hoping to draw the man’s aim away from her.

Another horse and rider suddenly trotted into view. It was Lenoir. He must have taken a shortcut through side alleys to get to Henry’s house, only a hundred feet away.

A small crowd was starting to form, but at a distance, watching, gasping and wide-eyed.

“He will shoot you,” Lenoir said in his French accent.

“And if he does, I will shoot him, and I will kill him.” Luke’s blood was boiling, heating his forehead and neck. But he had never been more serious, aiming his gun at the man’s head, his sights pointing between his eyes. And at this close range, Luke would not miss.

“Give me the list,” Lenoir said.

Luke said nothing. Then, out the corner of his eye, he saw Lenoir approaching with his own gun in his hand.

“Stay back,” Luke said. “I will shoot him and then you. This is a repeating pistol and I still have enough shots to kill you both twice over.”

Lenoir stopped. “Go ahead and shoot him, because we will both shoot you and then you can kill only one of us, but you’ll be dead either way.”

He was right and Luke knew it. But how displeased was the henchman that Lenoir cared so little for his survival? Luke couldn’t tell, though he did notice a twitch in the man’s jawline.