Page 6 of His Stolen Duchess
Once she had rounded them safely, she peered furtively through the first set of branches at the waiting carriage.
Uncle Francis sat in the back of the carriage, shaking his head. The driver looked at the horses, and the footman stood by the door, looking into the carriage.
If her mother were alive and discovered what she was about to do, she’d certainly die of a heart attack. As she had in reality.
“I’m sorry, Uncle,” she whispered. “I have to do this.”
Georgina pulled up the skirts of her dress, swiftly ran toward the back of the church, and scurried out the back exit, heading back to the Ridgewell townhouse.
She needed to get back there and gather her things before anyone else caught up.
Then, she would run away and never come back.
Chapter Two
“Take it back, you damned liar!”
The shout rang out from somewhere beyond the hedgerow, slicing through the summer air like a thrown gauntlet. It was immediately followed by the rustle of silk-lined coats and the scrape of polished boots on gravel.
Thomas paused mid-sentence, his head cocked. “Oh, now that sounds promising.”
Before Lysander could object, Thomas was already veering off the path, pushing past the flowering laurel with the enthusiasm of a boy chasing a cricket ball.
“Come on, I want to see this.” Thomas wiggled his eyebrows.
Lysander knew better than to protest when Thomas had that look in his eyes. He picked up his pace as Thomas ran toward thecommotion and quickly caught up with his friend. They passed through the bushes to find two young lords arguing.
“Two roosters trying to out-cluck each other, that’s all,” Lysander pointed out.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than one of the lords grabbed the other and shook him by the collar.
Thomas clasped his hands together in amusement as the argument escalated.
“Say that again!” the lord warned, shaking the other man.
“I speak the truth,” the second man spat.
“Take it back!” The first man gave the other a shake that would have thrown the other lord to the ground if the first lord hadn’t gripped his collar so tightly.
“I smelled bergamot, Hollinger!”
Hollinger shook the other lord with more fury. “I swore on the house floor that I supported the embargo. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing French hair oil. This is English oil. English oil!”
Thomas turned to grin at Lysander, looking positively giddy.
Hollinger suddenly pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed it at the other lord.
Gasps erupted from the small crowd that had gathered to witness the argument. Most of the ladies and a few of the men took a step back. Someone looked around and shouted for a constable.
“Oh, blast this!” Lysander cursed. “Someone will be hurt if this continues. I don’t care about those fools, but there are too many people around.”
“The Duke of Windermere to the rescue!” Thomas chanted, his finger in the air, as Lysander approached the squabbling gentleman.
“This stops now!” Lysander commanded. “Let him go and point your weapon at the ground. Now.”
Hollinger looked over at the approaching Duke, and his grip on the man’s collar weakened when he saw Lysander had no intention of stopping. His opponent pulled himself away from Hollinger, falling backward to the ground and scrambling away.
Hollinger looked at his gun. He had a weapon, which meant he had all the power.
