Another pistol shot cracked, and this time, the coach careened wildly. For a terrifying moment, Anne feared they were going to topple over as they left the road.
The vehicle slowed, but only slightly. The ground was rough, and they bounced mercilessly. The ache in Anne’s head intensified, and she pressed her hands more tightly to her skull as if she could relieve the pain by holding her head more still.
Suddenly, Ludlow lunged from his seat to the door and threw it open. He leapt from the coach, and the door swung wildly.
Anne fell, gasping, from the cushion as the coach hit a large bump. A horseman rode by the open door, and Anne prayed whoever it was could get the coach to stop.
For several agonizing minutes, Anne suffered the punishing bouncing of the coach over the uneven terrain. But the vehicle was slowing, thank God. Finally, it came to a stop. She fell back onto the floor, her head spinning, and closed her eyes.
“Anne!”
Rafe’s voice seeped into her aching brain. He scooped her up from the floor and carried her from the coach. The soft night breeze soothed her pain. She opened her eyes, but knew who held her.
He stared down at her, his eyes wide with fear, his face drawn with lines of distress. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and realized her error. “Ow, that hurts.”
“It’s all right now, my love.” He carried her away from the coach. “You’re safe now.”
“Where is Ludlow?” She tried to lift her head to look around. “He jumped from the coach.”
“I saw that.” Rafe turned. “Harry’s got him. And North.”
Anthony rode up, leading a second horse. He dismounted and strode toward them. “All right, Anne?”
“Yes, just a nasty headache.”
“Thank God.” Anthony gazed at Rafe with admiration. “That was a hell of a leap.”
Anne turned her head to look up at Rafe. “What is he talking about?”
“I had to jump from the horse to the coach. I shot the brigand who was sitting on the coach box. When he fell, he took the coachman with him. Someone had to stop the vehicle.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Capable didn’t begin to describe this man. “How dashing.”
Another gunshot sounded, and Anne flinched. “What happened?”
Rafe started toward where Harry and North had been dealing with Ludlow.
“I can walk,” Anne said.
“But you aren’t going to.” Rafe quickened his pace.
“How is she?” Harry asked.
“Fine,” Anne answered. “Just a headache. What happened?” She craned her neck to see, but was having difficulty. “Would you please put me down?” she pleaded. “I’ll hold on to you, I promise.”
Rafe set her down, but held her tight against him. She gasped at the sight of her godfather sprawled on his back, blood spreading in a thick stain over his chest between the lapels of his coat.
“Anne?” he garbled, his eyes staring straight up at the moonlit sky.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said.
“Lorcan should be the earl, not that pretender,” Ludlow managed between gasps.
Rafe moved to stand over him, taking Anne with him. “I am not a pretender,” he said softly. “I’m the Earl of Stone.”
Blood spilled from Ludlow’s mouth as he fought to speak. No sound came out save a long, rasping breath. Then he was still.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” Harry said. “He pulled a pistol from his coat. I had to shoot.”
“I understand. You did what you had to.” She ought to feel sad, but she was angry with herself for standing by this horrendous man, for believing that he was struggling with the loss of the life he’d known. But it was a life he’d stolen from the man beside her.
She was also relieved that Rafe was, indeed, still standing beside her. Turning toward his chest, she reached around him and clasped his right arm. He winced as soon as she touched him.
“Are you all right?” She let go and wished for more light so she could see if he was wounded.
“Just a nick on my arm.”
She frowned at him. “What is a nick to you may be a gaping wound to someone else.”
“It really is only a scratch. I promise, my love.”
For now, she’d take his word for it. “How did you find me?”
“Mallory attacked the wrong people,” North said with a shake of his head. “They lured Rafe to the folly at Brixton Park, presumably with the intent of killing him. They didn’t realize he’d have his sisters with him, and that they are every bit as skilled with a knife as Lord Stone here.” He inclined his head toward Rafe to indicate he meant the true earl.
“Are they all right?” Anne asked, shocked. “Selina and Beatrix, I mean. I don’t care about the men who were working for my godfather.”
“Yes, they’re fine,” Harry said. “And most of the men will be able to stand trial.”
Anne looked down at her godfather. “He was mad.” She clutched Rafe more tightly.
Harry raked his hand through his auburn hair. “I need to find the coachman and that last brigand.”
“I’ll help,” North said, and Anthony joined in.
A coach stopped on the road, which was perhaps a quarter mile distant. “Rafe?”
Anne recognized Selina’s voice.
“Here!” Rafe called.
A few minutes later, Selina, Beatrix, and Jane arrived, the latter of whom rushed forward and enveloped Anne in a tight hug. Though her head hurt, Anne embraced her sister with a mix of relief and overwhelming love.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Jane said through tears. Suddenly, Anne was crying too, and the pent-up emotion of the evening spilled from her as she held on to her sister.
It was several minutes before they separated. Jane wiped her face and sucked in a sharp breath as her gaze fell on Ludlow. “Is that…?”
“My godfather, yes,” Anne said. “It’s a long story that I will gladly tell you later. Suffice to say that I am not sorry he is dead.” She suddenly felt exhausted to her very bones. The earth began to tilt. Rafe swept her into his arms before she fell.
She closed her eyes as he carried her
