Chapter Twelve
Jack didn’t have time to worry about Maddie. He would have liked to pull her into his arms, stroke her back and stop her trembling. The look of pure shock and then guilt that passed over her face when she realized that Dover was not with them was heart-wrenching, even for a man like he, who everyone said had no heart.
At that moment he would have done anything to give her the prissy little professor back, if it would just erase the anguish from her features.
But her father was unhurt—at least the earl had appeared hale enough when Jack had last looked back. The white-haired man was plum-faced, shouting, and still waving that hunting rifle.
Jack turned from Maddie and tried to see out the window. “Bloody hell,” he cursed. There was a coach right behind them and gaining ground. He popped the hatch open again and shouted to his brother, “Faster, man. They’re right behind us.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” was Nick’s strained reply.
“Damn it.” Jack slammed the hatch shut. He would have to climb up there. He didn’t think he would do a better job than Nick at escaping the irate earl, but he couldn’t sit here with his hands clasped, twiddling his thumbs uselessly either.
If he’d made one promise in his life, it was never again to do nothing.
With another curse, Jack moved toward the door and reached for the handle. Maddie grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Climbing up there.” He shook her hand off and reached for the door again.
“No! You’ll never make it. Or you’ll be shot.”
He gave her a quick grin. “Your concern is touching, sweetheart. But I’ll be back.”
He swung the door open, grasped the coach’s frame, and pulled himself out and up. Jesus, he’d obviously spent too much time sitting at his club and drinking port because it was damn hard hauling himself on top of the carriage. He huffed and puffed and sweated, but he finally made it, then reached down and slammed the carriage door shut.
Holding on tightly, he glanced behind him. Just rounding a corner was a nondescript town coach.
Normally, he would have assumed it was Castleigh, but there were so many people after them that he was making no conjectures. He narrowed his eyes to observe the green and gold livery on the coachman, then popped the hatch and peered into the carriage.
Two pairs of anxious eyes blinked up at him. He found the bright sapphire ones. “What color is your father’s livery?”
Maddie stared at him as though he’d gone daft. “I— What?”
“Lord Castleigh’s livery is green and gold,” Ashley supplied for her.
Jack nodded and dropped the hatch closed. Well, at least he knew it wasn’t Bleven again. Holding onto the sides of the carriage, he managed to push himself forward until he could climb beside his brother on the box.
Thanks to the quick work of the grooms at the posting house, Jack and Nick had been able to ensure the change of horses before Maddie stepped out of the carriage and the shooting began. But this new team was rather spirited. Nick had his hands full trying to control them.
“How close?” Nick asked through clenched teeth.
“Less than a quarter of a mile,” Jack answered. “And gaining.”
“Still seven miles to Gretna Green. We may be able to outrun them.”
Jack doubted it. They were in an old carriage with second-rate horses. He and Nick were exhausted. The earl was in his shiny town coach and had probably paid for the best horses in Carlisle. And who knew how long he’d been sitting there waiting for their arrival? His coachman and footmen were probably rested and ready to fight.
“How the hell did he find us?” Jack said to no one in particular. “And why the devil weren’t we more careful? We should have known.”
“Too late for all that now.” Nick reached under the box and handed Jack a pistol. “There’s one shot left. Make it count.”
“Right,” Jack said, turning to observe the earl’s progress.
Still steadily gaining.
Well, the good news was that his brother had acquired a pistol.
The bad was that Jack wasn’t a very good shot. He decided to wait until the earl closed the gap between them rather than risk shooting out of range. While he gauged the narrowing distance, he tried to wedge himself into the box so his aim would be steady.
