She hugged him so fiercely he thought his ribs might crack. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do everything you tell me from now on.”
That forced a grudging laugh from his throat. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Will,” she said, pulling back, “we’ve got to get to Sir Gerald Milbank’s house right now because Bridget told me that they’re going to blow it up. She’s already there.” She tugged at his shoulders, as if to yank him to his feet.
“Don’t worry, we stopped it in time,” he soothed. He untied her crumpled bonnet and tossed it onto the table. “Alec and his men are clearing away the gunpowder as we speak.”
She blinked, so adorably startled he had to give her a quick kiss.
“Oh, thank God,” she said. “How did you find out about the plot?”
“We dragged it out of Terence.” He pulled her up to her feet. “He didn’t give us the specifics, but we knew something was afoot at Milbank House. Alec organized a search, starting with the cellars. We found the gunpowder—and Bridget’s men—almost immediately. No Bridget, though.”
She sagged against him in relief. “I was terrified it would be too late.”
He gave her a brief hug. “Everything’s fine, but we’ve got to get moving.” He let her go and checked on the guard, who was indeed still alive. “He’s out cold, but we need to tie him up until he can be taken to Bow Street.”
Evie let out a gasp. “Mrs. Rafferty and Billy! They’re locked in the vestry. I’ve got to let them out.”
Will snaked out a hand and grabbed her sleeve. “I did that already. They’re fetching reinforcements from Bow Street.”
“Thank you,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I was so frightened for them.”
“Then perhaps you understand how I felt about you,” he said dryly.
Evie winced. “I’m sorry, Will. I truly am. I had no idea Bridget was involved in this horrible plot, and I thought meeting her at St. Margaret’s would be perfectly safe.”
“Not just involved. She’s the ringleader.”
“Yes, I understand that now. It’s horrible,” she said in a somber tone. Then she cocked an eyebrow. “By the way, how did you know I came here?”
“Eden told me. She’d come home early because she said she had a premonition that something was wrong.”
Evie smiled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said rather cryptically. “But it was a good bit of luck for me that you stopped by the house.”
“I thought you would have the best idea about where to find Bridget in that damned rookery. Do you?”
She looked doubtful. “Well, she and Terence are listed in the church records, but I doubt that address will be of much use.”
He shrugged. “We’d have to search her room in any event, so at least it’s a place to start. Now, help me find some more rope so we can tie this fellow up and be on our way.”
Evie nodded and headed for the pantry. “Then what do we do?”
“I will get you home, and then carry on with the search for Bridget O’Shay.”
“No need for that, you bastard.” The soft snarl came from behind them. “I’m right here.”
Christ.
The bloody woman had stolen a march on them. Slowly, Will pivoted on his heel. Bridget was standing at the top of the steps, and her pistol was pointed right at his chest.
“I know ye’re carrying, Endicott,” she snarled. “So, put the gun on the table. And you, Miss Evie, get over by your man where’s I can keep an eye on you.”
Without a word, Evie came over while Will removed the pistol from his coat and carefully placed it on the kitchen table. He still had the guard’s pistol, but it would take him a few seconds to reach behind and pull it out. Bridget’s hand was as steady as a rock, so he had little doubt she’d get off a shot before he got to the gun.
Given the hatred etching her features, he had no doubt she’d do it, too, and gladly. And she was close enough that she likely wouldn’t miss.
When Evie came alongside him, Will stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. She expelled an impatient breath, as if annoyed with his instinct to protect her, but then stood quietly, with her hands settling at his waist.
“Aren’t you the gent,” sneered Bridget. “For all the good it will do you, since your fine lady is comin’ with me.”
“Over my dead body,” Will replied.
The girl’s ruthless laugh sent a chill coursing through his veins.
“That’s the plan, dearie,” she said. “You may have stopped us for now from killing Orange Peel and the rest of those murderers, but I’ll still see justice done.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning,” he said, “you won’t get away with it. I’ll hunt you down, I promise you. It’s over, Bridget.”
“Ah, and how will you be huntin’ me down when ye’re dead, me fine captain?” She smiled, looking almost like the good-natured, attractive young woman they’d all assumed her to be. But that pistol never wavered, and the implacable look in her eye signaled a deadly resolution.
“Bridget, you’ve got to stop this,” Evie said in a choked voice. “Killing won’t help anyone.”
“It’ll help me,” the girl spat back. “I demand justice, and I’ll have it. Even if I can’t kill your bloody prime minister or one of your royals, I can kill a royal’s son. How do you think your fine Duke of York will feel when he hears I blew his son’s brains all over the floor?”
Evie’s hands jerked at his waist, but Will confined his surprise to a lifted brow.
“Now that’s interesting,” he said, willing Bridget to keep talking. Sooner or later, either Alec or Runners from Bow Street would surely show up. “How did you know I’m York’s son?”
Bridget shrugged and took a step down to the flagstones. She didn’t come too close, though. She was too smart to come within Will’s reach. “I had my suspicions about you from the beginnin’, with all your sniffin’ around here. You and your mate were too bloody interested in St. Maggie’s. So I did a little diggin’. Servants love to gossip, so it didn’t take long to find out who you really were.”
“Then you know that if you hurt Captain Endicott, the duke won’t rest until he sees you hanged,” Evie said.
Again, Bridget shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ll see justice done, for all that.”
“Murder is your idea of justice?” Will asked.
“Yes,” Bridget retorted. “I learned it from the likes of you.”
“Please, Bridget, don’t do this,” Evie pleaded. Her hands clutched convulsively at the back of Will’s coat.
“Don’t waste your breath, love,” he said. “She’s not listening.”
“She’s sick of listenin’ to your palaver,” Bridget snapped. “Now, you’d best come out from behind him, Miss Evie, unless you want to get shot too. We need to be on our way before someone comes lookin’ for us here.”
“I have no intention of going with you,” Evie said in a defiant voice.
“Evie, do what she says.” There wasn’t a damn thing Will could do until he got Evie out of the line of fire.
“She can’t force me,” Evie answered.
Will felt her hand slip under his coat, and his mind blanked for a second. By the time he’d recovered, she’d already pulled the pistol from his waistband and stepped up beside him.
“Put the gun down, Bridget,” she said, “or I’ll shoot you.”
Bridget instinctively swung her weapon toward Evie. Will put up an arm to shield Evie, but she sidestepped him.
“Evie, for God’s sake,” he growled.
“Don’t move, Will,” she said. “Bridget, this is your last chance.”
The girl snorted. “You won’t shoot me, miss. You don’t have it in you.” Then her lips peeled back in a death’s-head grin. “But I do.”
The instant Bridget started to swing her pistol back to Will, Evie fired. Bridget screamed and her gun went off as Will launched at Evie and took her down to the floor. Th
e roar of the echoing shots bounced off the walls, and an overpowering smell of cordite hung in the air.
“Will!” Evie screamed. Her hands clutched frantically at his shoulders. “Are you hit? Did she hurt you?”
He grimaced, taking a quick stock. “I think your shriek all but destroyed my eardrums, but other than that I seem to be fine.” He lifted off of her, inspecting her deathly pale face. “Are you all right, love? I did take you down rather hard.”
She sucked in a huge gasp and went flat on her back, closing her eyes. “I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”
Will hauled himself to his feet and made his way to Bridget. She was lying in a crumpled, bloody heap at the base of the steps. The girl was still alive, but from the glazed look in her eyes and the blood gushing from a hole in her bodice, she wouldn’t be for long. Still, he had to try. He pulled out his handkerchief and wadded it up, pressing it against the wound.
A few moments later, Evie crouched down and shoved some dishrags at him. He bundled them up under the soaked handkerchief but knew it was a losing battle.
“Will she live?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Oh, God.” She sounded sick. “I was aiming for her arm, but I haven’t fired a gun in years. Not since my brother last took me quail hunting.”
“It was a hell of a shot, under the circumstances.” Will spared her a worried glance. She didn’t look any better than she had a few minutes ago. “Evie, sit down. Help will be here soon.”
“No, I’m all right,” she said in a grim, determined voice. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, my sweet. I’m just sorry you had to do this. I would have spared you, if I could.” He shot her a glance through narrowed eyes. “Although we are going to discuss your propensity to take unnecessary risks. I don’t need you dueling with any more madwomen.”
Evie sat back on her heels, scowling at him. “She would have killed you. I had no choice.”
“Perhaps, but you endangered yourself. I won’t have that.”
“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” she said, sounding encouragingly snippy. But a moment later, she let out another heavy sigh. “Although I certainly hope I never have to shoot anyone again for as long as I live.”
Will removed his hand from Bridget’s body. Her eyes had clouded over, and blood had completely soaked the front of her bodice. He took a spare rag Evie offered him and started to scrub the blood off his hand.
“It’s not your fault, Evie. I think she wanted this . . . wanted to die.”
“No one wants this,” she replied in a sad little voice. “Bridget had too much grief and anger for any one person to bear.”
“I know.” He wanted to hug her, but he was covered with blood, so he settled for using his relatively clean hand to help her to stand.
“Evie, why don’t you sit and rest for a moment? I still have to—”
He stopped, cocking his head. “Ah, help is finally at hand. All clear,” he called, raising his voice.
“A little late, I’d say,” Evie muttered. Will was forced to agree.
A moment later, Alec flung open the door at the top of the stairs, pistol at the ready. His eyes widened at the carnage before him, then he did a quick scan of the room. He stowed his pistol and came down the steps, avoiding Bridget’s crumpled form.
“Well,” he said, eyeing Will and Evie with a sardonic expression. “It would appear that my help wasn’t needed, after all.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
One minute, Evie was ready to topple over asleep on the soft silk cushions of the settee. The next, she was ready to pace from one end of the morning room to the other in a desperate attempt to bleed off the fractious energy that rattled her nerves. After the momentous events at St. Margaret’s last night, her mind had teemed with questions and worries.
Will had been unable to soothe those worries or answer her questions. He’d stayed at the church, directing the ever-increasing number of Bow Street Runners and spies who’d crowded into the kitchen and offices of St. Margaret’s. After an hour or so, he’d finally sent her home with an escort of two Runners, despite her protest that she didn’t want to leave him.
“You’re practically dead on your feet,” Will had said as he escorted her to the carriage waiting in the yard. “I have to be here for some time yet, and there’s no point in you waiting. I’ll see you tomorrow, as soon as I can get away from this mess.”
He’d then planted a swift but intoxicating kiss on her lips, bundled her into the carriage, and sent her on her way. And, truthfully, as much as she’d wanted to stay with him, he was right. She was so tired she could hardly stand on her own two feet.
Unfortunately, her entire family was waiting up for her when she arrived home, all of them in one state or another. Eden was the calmest of the bunch, instinctively knowing that Evie had survived unscathed, but she’d been so worried earlier that she’d blurted out a garbled version of events to their parents and brother. And hadn’t that gone over like an exploding artillery shell. By the time Evie got home, Mamma had been in hysterics, Papa had roared that nobody ever told him anything, which Matt had unhelpfully seconded, and she had been forced to spend what little energy she had left explaining the whole blasted thing. Everyone started talking at once—or, in Mamma’s case, yelling—and Evie had been required to do some yelling herself in order to be heard. That had been followed by much scandalized moaning and groaning, with Papa expressing his dissatisfaction with Will for putting her in danger.
Mamma had placed most of the blame on poor Michael, of course, which had led to a sharp exchange as to who was most at fault. If Evie hadn’t threatened to have her own full-blown case of hysterics, they would probably still be arguing.
Everyone had calmed down a bit after that, especially after Evie explained how Will had rescued not only her but the prime minister and half the Cabinet, too. That was a slight exaggeration, but it certainly helped mollify her parents. Though Mamma professed to be dreadfully shocked to learn that Will was a spy, Evie had a sneaking suspicion she also found it rather thrilling and romantic. The fact that he’d been operating under his father’s orders helped as well. As Mamma had so trenchantly said to Papa, when a prince commands, one has no choice but to obey.
Still, it was all rather messy, and both her parents were greatly annoyed that she hadn’t taken them into her confidence earlier. Given their response last night, she knew beyond any doubt that she’d been right not to tell them. But she’d kept that opinion to herself, repeatedly apologizing and answering their questions as best she could until Eden had stamped her foot, told her parents to stop badgering the poor girl, and dragged Evie off to bed.
She’d lain awake, though, plagued by questions and wound tighter than her father’s pocket watch, not dropping off to sleep until the birds started to twitter and the pale light of dawn seeped under her curtains. Even so, she’d awakened a few hours later, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to properly rest until she saw Will again. She desperately needed assurances that Michael and the others at St. Margaret’s were safe from criminal charges and that the Duke of York wasn’t furious with Will for getting engaged to her. The two things certainly weren’t on the same order of magnitude, but her sleep-deprived brain seemed to think such was the case.
So, after choking down a cup of tea and a slice of toast, she’d repaired to the morning room, waiting for Will—for somebody—to arrive with answers and put her out of her misery. She was heartily sick of her own company and had all but vowed to go out and hunt Will down if he didn’t have the good manners to appear before lunchtime.
The door opened and Eden poked her head into the room. “Still no Wolf? How dreary of him to be so late.”
Evie jumped up from the settee and started pacing. “I swear, Edie, if he doesn’t show himself soon, I’m going to murder him when he does finally get here.”
“I know, darling,” Eden said in a sympathetic voice. “But he pr
obably is a bit busy this morning, what with mopping up a deadly conspiracy and saving the government from death and destruction. I’m sure he’ll be over as soon as he’s done with those frippery fellows like Lord Liverpool and the Duke of York.”
Evie stopped in the middle of the room and let out a rueful chuckle. “You’re right, of course. I’m an absolute witch to even think that way. But I’m going positively demented with so many questions swirling in my head.”
Eden waved a magnanimous hand. “And no one could blame you. But—” A rap on the front door cut her off. “I bet that’s Wolf now. You wait here and pinch some color into those pasty cheeks of yours while I bring him up.”
When she disappeared, Evie hurried to the gilt-framed mirror hanging over the hearth. Her sister was right—she did look whey-faced, but at least her hair and gown were up to trim. She’d made an extra effort this morning, although that seemed rather silly given all the drama of the last few days. Will would no doubt have other things on his mind besides her looks.
There was a quick knock, and then Eden opened the door. “It’s not Will, but I think you’ll be happy to see your visitor.”
She stepped aside to reveal Michael. He gave Evie a hesitant smile, as if unsure of his welcome.
Evie gaped at him for a second then threw off her surprise and rushed forward. “Michael, I’m so happy to see you!”
“You are?” he asked, rather incredulous.
She took his hand and dragged him over to the settee. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He gingerly sat next to her, looking ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “I’m rather persona non grata, I expect, especially with your parents.” He let out a deep sigh. “After all, I did let Bridget O’Shay and her men take advantage of me, and I still tried to protect them. I was unforgivably naïve.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Eden piped up from the door, “Papa was more displeased with Will than he was with you.”
Michael perked up a bit. “Really? And how did your mother react?”
How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy Page 33
