Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [86]
Her lids lowered. “You know about the army? I pray that you did not have a hand in this.”
He laughed bitterly. “My counsel was not sought. Men convinced of the need for force only listen to other men who think the same way.” Of course, he did not require them to seek his counsel. Dukes could have their say no matter what. He had both spoken and written to Liverpool, for all the good it had done.
There would be hell to pay now. If the goal had been to force battle lines to be drawn, this could not have been more effective in achieving that.
He took the full basin from her. He carried it into the dining room and called for the women to move there, so they were not visible through the front windows. They filed in and moved the chairs into a circle in the middle of the chamber. Two women of middle years helped his refugee to a chair and knelt to lift her skirt to see what caused the blood.
He turned away to go keep an eye on the garden. As he did he saw the slash on the young woman’s thigh. A sword had caused it. A soldier’s sword.
“Mrs. Joyes, if you would join me,” he said over his shoulder.
Daphne came up beside him as he positioned himself at the window of the front chamber. Outside on the road, a river of bodies still moved.
“I believe that you brought a pistol with you,” he said. “Go and get it, along with any powder and balls you may have.” He removed his own from under his coat and placed it on the window ledge within easy reach.
She stared at that pistol, then out at the chaotic mob. Color marked her pale cheeks. Not passion or anger caused it. Not even embarrassment. Fear was her high emotion this time. She would not reveal it in any other way, he knew. Not while those other women needed reassurance.
He admired how composed she remained. It wrenched his heart that he could not promise that there was no danger at all.
She went away and returned with her pistol a short while later. She set down little bags of balls and powder on a nearby table. Then she set the gun on the window ledge right beside his pistol and took a position by his side.
Four men ventured into the garden, eyeing the cottage, then his horse. They might have noticed it was not the kind of horse and saddle their own kind would own, or perhaps they only looked for an excuse to release the day’s anger.
One picked up a rock.
If one rock flew, others probably would. It was the way with such things. Castleford opened the casement, and pointed the pistol right at the man holding that big stone.
“If you throw it, it will be the last thing your arm ever does,” he called.
Four pairs of eyes shifted to the voice and saw the pistol. Four men ran and jumped over the stone wall to get away.
“You do that very well, Your Grace. Your tone implies shooting them will bore you to death, but you will do it if they insist.”
“I will continue trying to hit the right notes, if you promise to continue praising me.”
She smiled, but her gaze did not leave the garden.
How beautiful she looked, standing there in the golden light of the late afternoon. Exquisite. Strong and determined despite her fear. He did not doubt that she would use that pistol if necessary. There were not many men in whose courage he had the same confidence.
“There are many things that we must talk about, Daphne.”
“I expect so.”
Two youths entered the garden, showing too much attention to the horse. He opened the casement again. “But not now.”
“No. Not now.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh, good heavens!” Daphne whispered.
Margaret smiled helplessly and shrugged. “It was not supposed to happen this way.”
“You must have known that it might, however. You all must have known.” Daphne peered severely at the other three women who had pounded on the door while Castleford was gone.
“We did,” the oldest of them said. Her name was Jane Woodman, and she appeared to be close to fifty. “That was why we were made leaders of