Jack glanced at Nick, but it was too late. Nick stepped forward. “Love to, Duke, but I don’t apologize to rapists.”
Bleven’s face went crimson, and he lunged for Nick. Jack had to admit the old man was quick. Nick was quicker, though. His brother grabbed a chair and shoved it in Bleven’s path.
Jack closed his eyes and wished he’d left his brother to fend for himself. Damn his parents, and damn their misplaced sense of honor. Why hadn’t they taught him to be a coward?
Jack stood. “Look, Bleven, perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement. Perhaps my brother can . . . write a letter of apology.”
Nick gave him a horrified look, and Bleven burst into loud cackles.
“Oh, he will apologize, Blackthorne. You both will. I’ve been waiting for this day.” He motioned to his men. “Catch them and put them in my coach. I’d like a private meeting.”
The six men, armed to the teeth, advanced, and Jack exchanged a look with Nick. Jack wrapped his fingers around the back of the chair he’d been occupying, and Nick did the same. As the first two men came forward, brandishing pistols, Jack stood still, waiting. The men, smiling at their easy victory, raised their guns.
Then, with a howl, Jack raised his chair and threw it. It hit one of the gun-carrying men in the shoulder, glanced off him and thwacked the club-toting man in the temple. Nick’s chair took out the other man, then landed on the floor and skidded to a hard stop against Bleven’s shin.
Bleven wailed, “Get them!”
One of the gunmen fired a wild shot, and Jack felt it whiz by his ear. He stumbled back, grabbing Nicholas in the process.
“What now?” Nick said, crouching in anticipation of the next shot.
“Now, we run!”
“ASHLEY, GET OUT OF the coach,” Maddie said. “This is my elopement. You’re not invited.”
“Nevertheless, I’m coming,” Ashley said, and Maddie knew that stubborn look in her cousin’s eye. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to have an adventure.”
“But it won’t be an adventure, Ashley. It will be boring, I assure you.”
That was unless Ashley insisted on coming along.
Maddie glanced at Mr. Dover, seated beside her. He looked agitated and impatient. In his hand, he held a pocket watch. “We are now precisely eleven minutes behind our scheduled departure,” he said.
Maddie massaged the bridge of her nose and tried to be patient.
And optimistic—an act that was becoming increasingly more difficult every time one of Mr. Dover’s precious seconds ticked away. “Ashley,” she pleaded. “Get out.”
“No.”
Maddie was about to leap across the coach and forcibly evict her friend when Dover raised his hand. “As time is of the essence, might I suggest an alternate solution?”
Ashley shook her head. “Where did you find this . . . man?”
Dover sniffed. “As I was saying—or about to say”—he gave Ashley a reproving look—“it might be more expedient to allow Miss Brittany to travel with us.”
Maddie stared at him. “Come with us?”
He removed his spectacles and began polishing them. “Yes. After all, what is the harm in her coming?”
“You obviously don’t know her very well,” Maddie grumbled. Ashley could find trouble in a nunnery.
“Well,” Dover said, looking at his watch again. “Perhaps she could be our chaperone. We didn’t think to bring a chaperone.”
“That’s because eloping couples don’t have chaperones!” Instantly, Maddie felt guilty for raising her voice. Especially as Mr. Dover had turned his reproving look on her. “I’m sorry for that outburst, Mr. Dover. I’m extremely agitated at the moment.”
“I think Mr. Dover has a splendid idea,” Ashley said with a smile for Maddie’s fiancé. “I would make an excellent chaperone.”
Maddie would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying. They really did not have time for this. Any moment her parents would realize she was missing and begin searching for her. It wouldn’t be long before they or one of the servants discovered the note she’d left on her pillow.
