Georgie saw Lully’s coat first, that bright splash of red laying on the ground. They had made it almost to the wall by the wood on their walk. Georgie’s heart climbed right up her throat until she saw her little girl climb back to her feet. Hattie was beating someone over the head with her umbrella, and Murphy was shaking that someone like a rag doll, someone trying his hardest to reach the wall.

“Shealbhú go tapa!” Georgie called.

Immediately Murphy sat back, the man’s leg firmly in his mouth. The intruder wasn’t going anywhere. He was too busy screaming himself and trying to ward off Hattie’s final blows, his arms over his head. From the direction of the stables Georgie could hear reinforcements trundling her way.

She could barely breathe by the time she reached the little group. Her first priority was to grab hold of Lully and make sure she was safe. She did it as soon as she re sheathed her knife.

“He tried to nab her!” Hattie cried, giving the man’s other leg a kick for good measure as Georgie clutched her little girl to her. “Right out of my hand!”

Murphy growled and shook that leg, setting up another whimper of pain from the man. Georgie could almost feel sorry for him. She saw that blood stained his leg.

“I kicked him too, mama!” Georgie announced, trying to pull from her mother’s arms to deliver another blow.

Georgie held on, just in case. “I believe Murphy has this well in hand, my heart. Stay here with Hattie, please. I must speak to the man.”

She had only taken two steps when the rest of her staff arrived, yelling and threatening and bristling with various weapons. Georgie held them all off.

“Thank you so much,” she said, handing Lully into Hattie’s care. “If you’ll wait a minute until I can find out what is going on.”

But when she turned the kidnapper over, it was to receive another unpleasant surprise.

“Jem? Jem Collins?!”

The young son of her parents’ head groom tried to move, but subsided quickly with Murphy’s renewed growl. “Miss,” the boy pleaded. “My leg. I fear it’s broke.”

“Éasca as,” she murmured. “Do not move, Jem, or it will go worse for you.”

Murphy gave her a doleful look but sat back, the leg freed.

“Balach cróga,” she murmured the praise with a smile, ruffling the dog’s head. Then she simply pointed to Lully and the dog walked over to stand right by her.

“Now then, Jem Collins,” Georgie said, hands on hips. “What is this about?”

By now the boy was weeping outright. If she remembered, he was all of about eighteen, a good worker and as upright as an oak. She simply couldn’t understand.

“He told me….he….said that me dad would be...turned out without...reference...” He hiccuped and swiped his face with his sleeve.

“Sit up, Jem,” she said.

He did, his face down, his shoulders still shaking with suppressed sobs. Georgy could feel Adam coming to a halt behind her. She almost expected him to try to take over, but he didn’t.

“Who told you that?” she asked Jem.

Jem gave her a terrified look, but couldn’t hold her gaze. The minute he looked away, she knew. She thought she might be sick. The Marquess of Wyndham had told him that. Her father.

“But that’s absurd,” she protested. “Why would my father kidnap my child, when he would just be bringing her back to the Abbey when Jack and Olivia are there?”

She was met with another stricken silence. Georgie couldn’t breathe. She simply could not…

“You were working with someone else?” Adam asked behind her.

Jem nodded. “Carriage up by the lane. They’re to wait for me.”

Georgie didn’t move. “I see.”

She felt Adam shift, as if working up to another question. Casting a quick warning look over her shoulder, she saw him nod to her, acknowledging her authority. It was all she could do to maintain her composure. Forcing herself to calm so she didn’t further frighten Lully, she crouched before her daughter.

“Well, Sprite,” she said. “You have had an adventure. I need you to do me a big favor now. Will you take Miss Hattie up to the nursery? She has had a severe fright, you know. She thought she had lost you. You were both very brave. I imagine this man will never think to tackle two such heroines again. But Miss Hattie needs a cup of tea. I need to see to Jem here, and then I will be up, all right?”

“And Murphy? He was ‘mazing!”

“He was indeed. We shall have cook find him an excellent bone. But I need to borrow him for a few minutes.”

“We will at that,” she heard from behind her in Mrs. Prince’s gruff tones.

The tableau held until Lully, hand clutched in Hattie’s, cleared the garden gate. Left behind, Murphy whined, but a hand on his head settled him. Then, pulling another calming breath, Georgie turned back to business.

“Can I be of some help?” the duke asked.

“Yes, please,” she said, attention still on Jem. “Come with me on my errand. Young Tom, I am not going to ask where you got yon blunderbuss. Is it loaded?”

“It is, ma’am.”

“Then please hand it to Peter Miller for the moment. Peter, I need you and one other person to sneak up on that carriage and hold it til we can get there, please.”

Peter Miller, Jack’s bluff, white-haired and broad-shouldered stableman, gathered the blunderbuss into his meaty hands. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

He pointed to another groom and off the two melted into the trees in the direction of the village lane. Georgy battled an overwhelming urge to clutch the duke’s hand for support, reassurance. The next question she must ask was the most difficult she thought she ever would.

“You were not to bring Lully back to Wyndham Abbey, Jem,” she said. “Were you?”

He began to weep again. “I’m that sorry, miss.”

“It’s all right. It is not your fault. Where were you to go?”

“I don’t know that, just that another coach was to be waiting somewhere on the North Road near Grantham.”

Wyndham Abbey was situated in Gloucestershire, nowhere near the North Road, certainly not as far north as Grantham. Georgie felt her knees all but give way. Before she could completely crumple, she felt Adam’s hand under her elbow, surreptitiously holding her up. He understood just as well as she what Jem’s words meant.

“Not to the continent, anyway,” he murmured.

“Of course not. They might need to recover her from whatever hell they’d planned for her if they need to wield her power. Oh, dear God...”

She could not collapse. Not until she handled this. She briefly closed her eyes, pulling her tattered poise around her. She would never be able to tell Adam what the support of his hand meant.

“Jem,” she said, “you cannot go back there. You know that. You would be welcome here, if you like.”

Her staff immediately objected. She raised a hand. “His family was threatened. I will not have Jem punished for being put in an untenable position by his lord.”

That quickly the protest died. Each of her staff understood the inequities of power.

“Please take Jem in where Mrs. Prince can see to his leg. If you think it is needed, Mrs. Prince, please call for the surgeon. I would appreciate it if two grooms came with us, and the rest remained in the manor house at least until we return.” She briefly smiled at the nervous movement around her. “I am quite certain the maids will not mind a bit of mud on the tiles. Now then, John Coachman, please ready the curricle. The duke and I have a small trip to take.”

“Village lane, I’m thinkin’?” the coachman posited with a gleam in his old eye.

“Village lane,” she agreed.

The preparations took mere minutes before two of Jack’s prime bays were hooked up to the curricle and Georgie and Adam seated behind John Coachman. One whistle brought Murphy up to set himself alongside the driver, head up, tongue out. John flicked the whip, and the team took off at a fast trot down the drive, followed by the grooms on Jack’s sturdiest hacks. Georgie hadn’t asked, but each also carried a shotgun.

Georgie jumped a bit when she felt a hand wrap around hers. The duke was smiling down at her. “Here I arrived believing you needed the strong arm of a duke to deal with the threat against Lully. You don’t, do you?”

She drew in a ragged breath. “Come see me in about thirty minutes.”

He gave her hand a companionable squeeze that felt to her like the greatest praise and then seemed to forget to let go. Georgie tried her very best not to contemplate exactly what her father’s actions meant. She much preferred to focus on the guilty pleasure that warm, strong hand afforded. It had been so long since she had had that kind of comfort. She could come to rely on it, she thought.

It took fifteen minutes to make their way back to the main lane into the local village. Georgie didn’t have to search for the carriage. It stood still in the middle of the road, not only Peter Miller and Tim the groom standing to one side, but more than a few villagers milling about in front of the placid horses.

John Coachman drew up behind and stopped, tying off the reins before helping Georgie and Adam down. The grooms swung down and covered the first coach. Murphy waited patiently for them in the verge.

“Bi cúramach,” Georgie commanded and took hold of Murphy’s collar.

As the three approached the carriage the crowd parted, many offering nods and tips of the hat to Georgie. She returned the acknowledgement, but never turned away from the two men sitting up front. As she suspected, the two men also worked for the marquess, one the game keeper the other a general dogsbody used for heavy lifting.

“Dick Walters,” she addressed the surly-looking game keeper. “I am not going to waste my time accusing you of trying to kidnap my child and listening to your pleas of innocence. I am letting you return to Wyndham Abbey for one reason, so you may deliver a message to my father. First, if I were you I would hold very still. Murphy, is cumhneach le.” Murphy leapt up to the driver’s seat and sniffed both occupants. Tim flinched back, but froze when Murphy leaned in and growled.