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“No, not home. We have to get to the earl. We have to find the coach, Robby. It had a crest on it, couldn’t have been Holland’s carriage. This was an unusual crest of palms and pineapples, very odd, all in gold.”
“That is the Sonhurst crest. Some years ago the Sonhurst family made their fortune in the islands, some plantation or other,” Robby said.
“Robby, I am impressed. How do you know all that?” Donna remarked as she looked at her husband and tried to hold Bess still.
“What, don’t you think I am up to every rig?” He smirked at her.
“Then we have to follow it—we are losing precious time,” Bess said, wincing as she first started off.
“No, we are not losing any time at all. The traffic outside the Jersey’s is at a standstill. A carriage lost its wheel and toppled over. You can’t get through easily or timely.”
Again, Donna was impressed. “How do you know that?”
“Heard one of the guests complaining that they had to walk the last row to get to the ball and that was why they were so late.”
Bess held the cloth to her wound and with some determination started off. “Then we shall head them off on foot.”
“We need a gun,” Robby said. “No doubt of it, we need a gun.”
Bess’s father arrived at that moment, took immediate stock of the situation, and said, “No, we do not, and mind me in this. There are other ways to catch vermin.” He took away the cloth from his daughter’s wound and shook his head. “My poor girl. Will you leave this to me and allow me to drop you first at home with Maddy?”
“No, I am coming with you. ’Tis only …” She grinned naughtily. “A pin prick.”
He shook his head, but his eyes were full with love. “Stay close then.”
She nodded vigorously, and he touched her chin. “Then put this on—we haven’t time to go back for your cloaks.” He took off his velvet cutaway coat and overrode her protests that she would ruin it if blood got on it.
Robby did the same for Donna, and the viscount said on a grim note, “Off we go. We must catch up to them …”
~ Twenty-Two ~
IF THEY MADE an odd-looking foursome weaving through the mess of traffic and screaming drivers outside Lady Jersey’s elegant home, they neither noticed nor cared.
They spied Lady Sonhurst’s coach, whose driver had managed to wield the horses leading it through the frenzied hub of traffic and was at the end of the long avenue, and they ran.
They watched it turn the corner, and it didn’t take them long to realize where it was going, for the viscount had been acquainted with Sally Sonhurst’s late husband and knew just where her townhouse was located. He stopped them with his arm out and told them firmly, “Catch your breath. We haven’t far to go, and we can do so at an easier pace.”
“But, Papa … they have him,” wailed Bess, who did not want to allow the coach to get out of sight.
“Indeed they do, and I can’t fathom what they mean to do with him, but they are taking him to the Sonhurst townhouse. I doubt that they mean to harm him there.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Robby said on a frown.
“No, Robby, it does not,” Donna agreed, taking a long gulp of air. She turned to Bess and worriedly asked, “Are you bleeding still, Bess?”
“Yes, but I’m fine, honestly. The bleeding is only a trickle now,” Bess lied and held her hand tightly over the cloth she had already turned inside out over her wound. She marveled to herself how a hole only a fraction of an inch could allow so much blood to pour out of her.
It didn’t take them long to make their way to the front steps, and there Bess stood back to admire her father.
He had such presence and command as he stood there and waited for someone to respond to his very harsh poun
ding of the door knocker.
* * *
Sally heard the noise at the front door, for apparently the visitor had taken to shouting as well as using the door knocker. She looked at Holland as they set the earl on the sofa.
“Who could that be?” she asked and picked nervously at her blue gown.
