The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,76

their faces resolute.

“Then they are fools,” he said.

Another man with a pointed nose came forward to cut the bonds on Linus and Denby, and they all piled into the coach, where Howland was waiting, hand pressed to one arm. Blood seeped through his fingers.

“I very much fear your betrothed shot me,” he told Linus. “I suppose turnabout is fair play.”

~~~

They were safe.

Abigail breathed out a prayer of thanksgiving as the coach started for the village. She wanted to hold Linus close, not let go. She contented herself with sitting as close to him as she could.

It wasn’t a difficult feat. Besides the staff on the roof, the interior, designed to hold four in comfort, now squeezed in six. Jesslyn perched herself on Lark’s lap. Eva looked as if she would have liked to do the same with her husband, but the magistrate was pale, and blood continued to leak past his fingers. After they’d put a little distance between them and the press gang, Linus insisted that they stop so he could tend the wound.

“I was aiming for just in front of your captor’s foot,” Abigail told the magistrate. “Perhaps I should participate in musket drills myself.”

Howland gamely smiled. “A dueling pistol wasn’t intended for long-distance shots. I’m surprised you hit anything.”

“At least it was a glancing blow,” Linus said as he tied it up with his own cravat. “We’ll want to remove any impurities when we reach the village to make sure it doesn’t fester.”

“Thank you,” Eva said as he shifted across the coach so she could sit beside her husband and he could sit next to Abigail. Then she thumped on the roof of the carriage. “Take us home, Mr. Connors. We’ll return the coach and horses in the morning.”

Lark peered out the window. “I think it’s already morning.”

Indeed, a golden light spread across the eastern horizon. It brightened tree and grass, set the Channel to sparkling like a gem. Abigail could just envision the painting. Perhaps she could start it tomorrow.

For now, she leaned her head against Linus’s shoulder. “I could sleep for a week.”

“Not me,” Eva declared. “I want to know what happened.”

Abigail raised her head to meet Linus’s gaze. “Yes, Linus. You went to capture a French agent, and you ended up captured instead.”

“It was a trap,” the magistrate put in. “Bennett feared as much, but I thought we’d be a match for them.”

“And so we would have been,” Lark said, “if they had actually shown their faces.”

“Instead, they showed their hand,” Mr. Howland said.

“We had heard a press gang was in the area,” Linus reminded Abigail. “Someone alerted them to a prime catch at the public house tonight.”

“Including a physician,” Lark put in. “They couldn’t pass that up.”

She felt the shudder go through Linus. To think she might have lost him to the sea, for years. She scooted closer still.

“It was Doctor Owens,” Mr. Howland said, the name like a curse on his lips. “Bennett suggested as much. He must be their leader, the one from whom Harris received orders.”

“Then you must bring him to justice,” Jesslyn said, normally sweet voice surprisingly hard.

“This very day,” the magistrate vowed.

Abigail lay her head back on Linus’s shoulder. His hand cradled hers. Once they had Owens, surely they could find the others, and all this would be over.

Mr. Connors dropped Eva, her husband, and most of her staff off first at Butterfly Manor, and Eva promised to treat the magistrate’s wound exactly as Linus ordered.

“I’ll come by later this morning to check on him,” he told her.

“We’ll let you know when Owens is in custody,” Mr. Howland put in before allowing Eva and Mr. Pym to help him into the house.

The coachman stopped at Shell Cottage, the Denby home, next.

“I’ll open the spa at eight,” Jess told Linus as Lark helped her to alight. “Sleep if you can.”

“I should be the one telling you that,” Linus said, “but I am learning that the women of Grace-by-the-Sea are a fearsome lot.”

“Indeed we are,” Jess said with her usual smile before Lark closed the carriage door.

“Where to, Miss Archer?” Mr. Connors asked.

“The shop called All the Colors of the Sea on High Street,” Abigail told him, and he clucked to the horses once more.

“You are redoubtable,” Linus said, slipping an arm about her shoulders and pressing a kiss against her temple. “I begin to understand why you rush to help. It’s impossible to ignore when someone you love is in danger.”

“Of any kind,” she assured him. “And I do