Page 110 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
What he felt.
Instead, he looked at Martin and Toby. “Duvall?”
“Caught,” Toby reported. “Eventually.”
Martin grimaced. “We’d misjudged and were too far back when the action started, but as it turned out, that was just as well. Believe it or not, Duvall wrestled free of Baines and Littlejohn and the two assistants who tried to help and raced out of the station, dodged Hennessy and Digby, and ran down the street—”
“Straight into our arms.” Toby grinned. “Trust me, it was worth every second to see his face in the instant before Martin slugged him.”
Also grinning at the memory, Martin tipped his head toward the front of the station. “Baines came huffing up and slapped handcuffs on him, and Littlejohn has him in hand. As you might imagine, neither are in the mood to be gentle.”
“Ho! You there! Stand where you are and put up your hands!”
“What the devil?” Gray turned and, with the others, watched as a company of soldiers, led by their captain and with bayonets at the ready, came rushing down from the side street that led up to one of the castle’s gates.
A barked “Hold hard!” came from the opposite end of the street, and they swiveled to see another company, likewise armed, coming up at the run from below the point of the hairpin bend, presumably from the nearby battery.
Gray heard Izzy sigh, then she stepped into the street, clear of him, Martin, and Toby, planted her hands on her hips, and directed a quelling look at first one captain, then the other, then in the refined tones of an earl’s daughter, announced, “We four are here at the behest of the Marquess of Winchelsea. Who the devil are you?”
She’d said the magic name. Both captains abruptly halted, and their companies did the same.
Commandingly, Izzy looked from one captain to the other. “Well?”
Very few gentlemen were immune to that tone. The captain from the castle cleared his throat and volunteered, “Captain Sinclair, ma’am.”
She glanced the other way, and the captain from the battery came to attention and saluted. “Captain Herries, ma’am.”
Sinclair glanced toward the telegraph station. “We—ah—received orders from the marquess to secure the telegraph station, ma’am. We were just on our way to do so when the explosion occurred.”
“I see.” Izzy swung to face the hapless Sinclair. She folded her arms; Gray couldn’t see it beneath her hems, but he thought it very likely she was tapping her toe. “And when, exactly, did you receive those orders, Captain?”
Sinclair colored like a schoolboy, then suddenly paled. He swallowed and replied, “A few hours ago, ma’am.”
Izzy extended one arm and pointed imperiously at the remnants of Duvall’s bomb. “That, Captain, was what you and your men were supposed to guard against. The next time you receive an order from Winchelsea, I would advise you to jump to it!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And it isn’t ‘ma’am,’ it’s ‘my lady.’”
“Yes, my lady.”
She looked at Herries. “As you can see, Captain, all is in hand. You may withdraw.”
“Very good, my lady.” With patent relief, Herries turned to his men, and they retreated in good order.
Izzy refocused—censoriously—on Sinclair. “As you’re too late to do anything else, Captain, you and your men can tidy up this mess.” She flicked her fingers at the debris from the briefcase and the trees.
With that, she rejoined Gray, Toby, and Martin, who had remained silent observers throughout.
Trying valiantly to smother a grin, Gray arched his brows at her. “Feeling better?”
She nodded. “Much.” She looked down at the telegraph station. “I suppose we’d better go and see what’s happening down there.”
Gray took her hand and assisted her down the steep steps, for which she was grateful. Delayed shock was setting in, and she wasn’t, in truth, all that steady on her feet.
They walked around to the front of the station to find Baines and Littlejohn standing over their prisoner, who was sitting on the curb in shackles. The stationmaster and his two assistants had come out and were talking excitedly with the lady, who was holding her little girl tight against her legs.
Izzy barely gave the tableau a glance before looking for her staff.
