Page 31 of Captured By the Werewolf Highwaymen

No sooner had the words left her lips, than a thud followed by woman’s outraged yelp came from downstairs.

“Oh, hell.” Clara hastened from the Blue Bedchamber. “The Ballantines.”

“Even worse,” Desmond said right behind her, with Gideon following. “Cyrus.”

9

Clara all but leapt down the stairs. She hit the ground floor and ran to the parlor. This time, Desmond didn’t bother to disguise the sound of his footsteps, nor did Gideon, and from somewhere in the house, Liam emerged, big hands already readying to swing.

All four of them reached the parlor, just in time to see Cyrus looming over Edward Ballantine, who lay sprawled on the ground. Mary Ballantine crouched beside her husband, glaring up at the highwayman. Cyrus’s hands were balled into fists, and he glowered at the older couple, his fair cheeks stained with outrage.

“What happened?” Clara rushed in to help Mr. Ballantine sit up.

Everyone began yelling at the same time, their voices mingling together raucously.

“This aristo told me to fetch his fucking tea,” Cyrus growled.

“I’ve never met a more impertinent footman,” Mr. Ballantine barked. He eyed the pistols in Cyrus’s baldric. “Or one so well-armed.”

“The most appalling language and manners,” his wife cried. “Pushing Edward down like a common ruffian.” She rounded on Clara. “What kind of household are you running here? Arthur would never have approved of this…this…anarchy.”

“I’m not a sodding footman,” Cyrus snarled. “We’re not goddamn servants.”

“Then who are you?” Leaning heavily on Clara and Mrs. Ballantine, Mr. Ballantine lurched to his feet. He glared at the other men, taking time to look Gideon up and down.

Gideon cocked a defiant eyebrow.

“Who are any of you?” Mr. Ballantine barked.

Clara spoke before anyone else could. “They’re here to hunt highwaymen.”

Mrs. Ballantine’s eyes widened. “Highwaymen?”

“A gang of them have been spotted in the area,” Clara went on. Once she’d seated Mr. Ballantine on a chair, she went on, “I’m actually quite relieved they didn’t set upon your carriage on your way here. They’ve held up two private coaches in the past week.”

“Gracious.” Mrs. Ballantine paled.

“What on earth is this world coming to,” Mr. Ballantine raged, “that we should fear traveling through Gloucestershire?”

“These gentlemen,” Clara continued, gesturing in turn to Desmond, Gideon, Liam, and Cyrus, “have been tasked with apprehending the gang to ensure travelers’ safety.”

Wearing matching expressions of shock, the Ballantines turned their attention to the four men. Desmond looked back at them with an air of authority. Gideon did the same, while Liam appeared slightly mortified. Cyrus continued to glower.

Mrs. Ballantine’s brows rose. “They don’t look like the law. A rather unruly lot.”

“We have different tactics than most members of the law.” Gideon gestured to the pistols tucked into Cyrus’s baldric, and the knife in his own belt. “So, it stands to reason that our appearance reflects our unusual methodology.”

“Indeed, so it does,” Mr. Ballantine said with a commanding air. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing at this house?”

Again, before Desmond or anyone else could speak, Clara said, “My home is serving as their base of operations.”

“Here?” Mrs. Ballantine looked around, as if assessing the viability of using a manor house to function as headquarters for a group of thief-hunting men.

“We have enough beds for them,” Clara explained. “And the stables can accommodate their horses.”

Gideon said, “Mrs. Ballantine, that is, this Mrs. Ballantine,” glancing at Clara, “is an excellent hostess, and has ensured that my men and I have everything we need to track down the villains terrorizing the area. She’s doing her community and the law a tremendous service.”

Mrs. Ballantine shot a glance at Clara, who fought to keep her shoulders back beneath that dubious look. “That comes as rather a surprise.”