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They had just passed the buildings that lined Fieldstone Square when Baldwin pulled back on the reins, knowing this action could very well be his last. Up ahead, he saw a large crowd had assembled, and they were all standing around a stage that had been erected for the rally. He could scarcely make out Lord Desmond’s words as he directed his comments towards the crowd.
“I won’t drive this cart into the crowd,” he declared, dropping the reins.
“Then Miss Dowding will die.”
“So be it,” Baldwin replied as he kept his face expressionless. He knew that Miss Dowding was rather clever, and he hoped she had already managed to get herself to safety.
Marie shoved the pistol further into his ribs. “And you will die.”
“I have no doubt that you planned to kill me either way,” Baldwin said. “You might as well do it now and save us a load of trouble.” He paused. “Although, firing a pistol so close to a bomb might not be the smartest idea.”
“You are right,” Marie said, pulling back the pistol slightly.
That was all the encouragement he needed, and he swiftly brought his hand up and shoved the pistol away from him and the wagon while simultaneously elbowing Marie in the jaw.
The pistol discharged, and he could feel and hear the bullet whiz within inches of his chest. Then, he heard the deafening explosion of the shot.
He saw Marie jump off the side of the wagon, and he did the same as he vaguely heard people screaming in the distance. He ran around the wagon and saw her hastily attempt to light the fuse with steel and flint.
“It is over!” Baldwin removed his pistol from the waistband of his trousers and pointed it at her.
“If you discharge that pistol this direction, then it will cause the bomb to ignite and we will both die, taking everyone else with us,” Marie informed him, keeping her hands near the fuse.
Baldwin nodded as he kept his gun pointed at her heart. “I am well aware of that fact.”
“And you would still do it?”
“I would.”
Marie scoffed. “Then you are the mad one.”
“So be it.”
Marie’s eyes grew frantic as she looked over his shoulder. “They are coming!” she shouted. “You need to let me leave, now!”
“Why would I do something so stupid?”
“I refuse to go willingly,” Marie cried out. “If I am going to die, I might as well take you with me.”
As she moved to strike the flint, a shot rang out over the square, and Marie fell to the ground, dead. A pool of blood began to emerge from under her head, staining the worn cobblestone.
Baldwin turned his attention towards the red brick building where he heard the shot fired and saw Corbyn standing in the third level window with a Baker rifle in his hand. In the next moment, Corbyn disappeared from his view.
The sound of booted steps approaching him caused him to slowly turn around, and he counted five constables.
“Put the pistol on the ground,” one of the men ordered, each one of them pointing their own pistols at Baldwin.
In a calm and collected manner, Baldwin complied without protest. He knew that these men were only doing their job, and he didn’t want to give them any reason to shoot him.
Before they could give another order, a coach pulled up beside them and the door was thrown open. Miss Dowding stepped out, but she became suddenly rooted to the spot when she saw Marie on the ground.
Her pale face looked up at him, and he saw the questions in her eyes. Even though her hair was disheveled, her dress ripped, and she had dried blood along the left side of her face, he had never seen her look more beautiful.
He gave her a reassuring smile, and he thought his heart might burst with joy when she returned it.
At some point, Oliver had come to stand next to him and was speaking to the constables on his behalf. “I could use your help here,” his brother muttered under his breath.
Turning his attention back towards the constables, Baldwin said, “I have a letter that will clear this up.”
