Gillian shuddered. Why hadn’t they considered the wives? Mary Roberts had to be at least two decades younger than her portly husband.
Gillian wanted to scream in frustration at the realization of the elderly Roberts’ beautiful young wife being a part of the conspiracy. The lady with her golden hair and cornflower hued eyes exuded the personality of a vacant minded china doll. Gillian scoffed. The lady had fooled everyone. Philly would appreciate how right she was about appearances not being as they seem.
Lady Roberts nudged Gillian back through the Roberts’ sitting room door. “We will wait in here.”
Gillian wracked her brain trying to think of a way to take the pistol from the lady but to no avail. The viscountess did not take her eyes off Gillian for a second. Lady Roberts motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace while she walked backwards to the window then looked out. With one hand, she managed to open the window. A chilly breeze drifted into the room. Why had the lady done that?
A moment later Gillian had the answer to her question when the sound of the horses leaving the stables echoed through the night. Moreham and Cross were on their way to the gamekeeper’s cottage. Lady Roberts’ sitting room looked out over the gardens on the side of the house where the stables stood. The viscountess exuded a cold-blooded calm as she waited by the window for the riders to ride away.
To Gillian’s surprise the lady didn’t leave her post by the open window. Neither lady said a word. All too soon the sound of more horses riding away from the manor. Only then did the lady step away from the window and motioned for Gillian to stand.
“Do not doubt I will shoot you and anyone else who gets in my way at the slightest provocation. You go first. My coach will be waiting for us.”
She knew her life and the lives of the others were in serious peril. A coach waiting could only mean Lady Roberts would have a front row seat at the abbey for whatever her friends had in mind. Gillian forced her breathing to slow down. She had to remain calm and clear headed ready for any opening the lady gave her to gain control of the weapon still pressed in her back. She would only get one chance. She kept moving down the stairs slowly.
Just do it. Those three words echoed over and over in her mind. Lunge forward. Grab the lady’s arm and take her gun away from her.
“Your ladyship, it isn’t too late to stop this madness. You know your husband will protect you. All you have to do is help us tonight.”
“You are such a fool. Why would I help your uncle and Moreham when I can have it all? I have been promised my own paradise. No man will ever tell me what to do again. A palace with enough coin to buy every bauble I want, and enough dresses to never wear the same gown twice for the rest of my days.” The viscountess laughed. Not a laugh one would hear in Polite Society, but a laugh laced with a thread of hysteria. Chills ran up Gillian’s spine. The viscountess was truly on the brink of madness.
“Gillian, what on earth are you doing in those clothes?” her aunt demanded from behind Lady Roberts.
Aunt Isadora’s voice surprised her guest. When the lady turned toward Aunt Isadora, Gillian grabbed the woman’s hand and wrenched the gun from her grasp. The viscountess’ body pitch forward. There was nothing anyone could do. The lady waved her arms frantically before lunging sideways. Lady Roberts wobbled on the step above her and lost her balance to fall down the steps to the parquet floor of the entryway.
Gillian hurried down the stairs with her aunt on her heels. Lady Roberts groaned and made to sit up. Both Gillian and Perkins stood over her. Gillian handed Perkins Lady Roberts’ gun and pulled her own pistol from the pocket of her breeches.
“You have no notion as to what you have stumbled into, my dear,” Lady Roberts declared.
“No, my lady, you are the one who is uninformed.” With those words Gillian coshed the viscountess in the back of her head.
Perkins cheered, “Bravo, my lady.”
Gillian gave the butler a hard look. “I assume I have my husband to thank for your presence.”
“The earl did ask me to be ever vigilant. He said, despite all his admonitions, you would be in the thick of this business. He asked I remain close to the front door instead of one of the footmen.”
“Thank you, Perkins, I am most grateful.” Gillian hesitated for a moment to listen for approaching footsteps.
“What in the world is going on? Why is Lady Roberts insensible on the floor? Why are you both standing there not offering her aid?”
“The lady had a pistol pointed at my middle. What was I to do? Stand there quietly and allow her to shoot me? Aunt, if you and Perkins would help me get the viscountess into the library, I will tell you all. At least what I know.”
For once, her aunt didn’t make a fuss. No demand for a footman to be summoned. No chastisement for the unseemly goings on in her entry hall. Mayhap, Uncle Whitney had told Aunt Isadora about his involvement.
Her aunt came forward to take Gillian’s pistol. Gillian and Perkins hefted the viscountess’ arms over their shoulders and all but dragged her into the library. The duchess, with the pistol in her hand extended as far from her person as possible, followed along behind. No one spoke until they settled Lady Roberts in the middle of one of the settees. Perkins saw to the closing and locking of the library doors.
Gillian rushed over to the windows and appropriated a drapery cord to tie up their prisoner.
“Perkins, will you remain with her ladyship? I must
