he must have seen her house as a prime place to stage his attack — and live in comfort in the meantime.”
Ferguson brushed a piece of lint off his greatcoat. “Can we get on with it before I die of boredom? I didn’t expect such a prolonged affair.”
Nick tried to pull the group back together. He wasn’t happy that Christabel and Ellie were present. But he couldn’t keep Christabel from returning to her own house. Ellie wouldn’t let her go without another woman for company. And Ferguson and Salford were still impossible to manage, but they were better for this task than Ellie’s milquetoast footmen.
With Trower as a silent but lethal addition to their party, they outnumbered Edgewood seven to one. With the added benefit of surprise, surely they could capture him without incident.
Nick laid out the plan. “Lady Folkestone, Lady Christabel — you will stay outside with Trower and cover the front door. If Edgewood comes running, shoot him.”
Christabel had refused to take a rifle, and Nick didn’t expect her to need it — Trower would take care of them without either woman needing to fire a shot. But Ellie nodded intently. She held up the bow she had insisted on bringing and pulled an arrow out of the small quiver strapped to her back. He couldn’t help but laugh. Trust Ellie to look both deadly and gorgeous at the same time.
She scowled at him. “Laugh now, but I can fire three arrows before you can reload a pistol.”
He made a bow of apology and turned to Salford and Ferguson. “Can I trust the two of you to cover the back of the house without shooting each other?”
Salford’s mouth twitched. “Send Edgewood our way. If Ferguson accidentally dies today, I’d like to pin it on your highwayman.”
Nick ignored him and turned to Marcus. “Shall we, brother?”
Marcus adjusted his gloves. “Let me go in first. I’d rather die than inherit your bloody title.”
“No one is going to die, bar Edgewood.”
“Still, it’s your turn to run the estate. If you leave it to me, I will be very much annoyed.”
Beside them, Ellie sniffed. “Not as annoyed as I shall be. Don’t do anything stupid, Folkestone.”
Nick turned to her. Her eyes were bright, and she seemed entirely focused on the task at hand. He only caught tiny hints of her nerves. Her gloved hand tightened on her bow. She squinted at him, as though memorizing the way he looked in this moment. Would she paint him like this? Not as her slave, not as a youth besotted with her, but as the man who would do anything to protect her?
She smiled as though she knew what he was thinking. “Be safe, Nick,” she said. “And come back to me.”
He would have given anything to hear those words a decade ago. But he much preferred hearing them now, from a woman who could truly love him rather than a girl who only thought she did.
He nodded. “Be safe, Ellie.”
He couldn’t say more, not with their audience. He heard Salford murmur something to Ferguson. The duke muttered a response that made Salford laugh. They trooped away from the group and disappeared around the back of the house to guard against Edgewood’s escape.
Ellie ignored them. She turned to Marcus instead. “You be safe as well,” she said. It sounded like an order, not a plea. “I still vow that if anyone kills you, it should be me.”
Marcus grinned. “If I inherit the marquessate, I’ll let you shoot me, and gladly.”
She wrinkled her nose. “And leave me with Rupert as the marquess? He would drive me mad within the month. Imagine my reputation if I killed every Claiborne male of your generation.”
The group laughed, but then fell into a sudden, awkward silence. They needed to wait to make sure Ferguson and Salford were in position, but waiting gave them too many moments to worry. They had done an admirable job of feigning comfort on the walk over. All that calm bled away in the final moments before their assault on the house.
They would be fine. Edgewood didn’t expect them and wouldn’t be armed. It would all happen quickly and without incident.
But Nick knew that even the best plans couldn’t account for everything. He checked his pistol a final time. The sky was slate grey, leaden and heavy with the threat of another snowstorm. His breath misted in the air, and he caught Ellie stamping her boots — either from nerves or an attempt to warm herself