Page 91 of The Countess Caper

“We’ll never catch him now!”

“Just wait,” Roarke said, pushing the door open. She jumped down after him, not waiting for assistance. He clucked his tongue at her disapprovingly. She stuck hers right out at him in response.

The sun was warm on her head as she hurried into the road. George’s carriage was racing ahead. He was getting away. He was getting away.

Roarke looked just as calm, as confident, as always.

This was not the time for calm confidence, damnation.

And then up ahead, just before the road turned, a rider stepped out, blocking the way.

George’s coachman shouted and pulled on the reins. The carriage veered, teetered sideways on two wheels, then righted itself with a loud crack. The horses stopped, tossing their heads.

Rue sat perched on Tessa’s horse. On either side of the road, Tessa glimpsed Daphne and Bryony. Bryony had left the safety of Magpie House. For her. She was pale, like a vengeful ghost, the lower half of her face hidden behind a scrap of cloth. George stumbled out of the carriage, glowering and shouting.

A knife embedded itself in the carriage door beside his shoulder.

Tessa nearly cheered.

“You’re the highwaywoman,” Roarke said. “They’re waiting for you. Have at it.”

She beamed at him, speechless. Had there ever been such a man?

And then he handed her a pistol. It was clearly the best quality, made just for her, with a bird inlaid on the handle. “Go on, then.”

“I love you,” she blurted out.

It wasn’t the right time for such declarations. But if you couldn’t tell your husband you loved him when were a bit drug-addled and he was arming you for crime, when could you tell him?

“Yet another thing we shall discuss,” he promised roughly. He grabbed her chin, kissed her hard. “At great length.”

She strode away, feeling his eyes on her. He fell into step behind her before she’d reached her cousin. She’d hardly expected differently. Roarke might arm her, but he would never let her go alone. Wouldn’t let her go at all. She clung to that hope. Something for later. A possibility? Or a delusion?

“What is the meaning of this?” George sputtered.

“Stand and deliver,” Rue declared with satisfying menace.

“You’re robbing me?” he gaped. “Preposterous. Do you know who I am?”

“A thief?” Tessa suggested.

He whirled, finally noticing her. His eyes bulged when Roarke pinned him with a cold glare that suggested a great deal of pain was in store.

“What are you doing here? What is this?” George took a step in her direction. “Stop this at once.”

She lifted her pistol. He froze. “I believe you were in the process of being robbed.”

He fumed, turning red.

“Hand it over,” Tessa said.

“Now,” Roarke snapped when George hesitated.

“You won’t shoot me,” George said.

Tessa shrugged. “I don’t know if I would,” she admitted. “But he would.” Roarke folded his arms. “And she definitely would.” Rue smiled. It was not comforting.

“I know all of your real names,” George said.