A Wedding In Springtime(108)

“Forgive me for intruding,” said Genie as if she had walked into her aunt’s drawing room.

Grant’s heart sank; she had almost made it out. The boys all turned their attention now to her.

“Do you know whom you are addressing?” asked Genie. “Why, this is Mr. William Grant. If he says something is so, then you can trust his word. I know I do,” she added, capturing his attention with large blue eyes. She was, to be sure, the most beautiful woman ever created.

“Is it really true?” asked the small boy.

“Of course it is!” declared Genie. “He told me of a place in the country with a nice couple to take care of you, horses to ride, streams to play in, and all the food you can eat.”

“Don’t care for horses. Never been to the country none.” The lad in the bonnet looked from Grant to Genie, unsure.

“I’ve never even crossed the Thames,” said one boy.

“Me neither,” added another.

“Better to live in the country than work for a French spy who makes you dress like a girl and shoot men in cellars,” persisted Genie.

“Aye, milady. I s’pose you’re right.” The boy uncocked the pistol and handed it to Genie.

“You are a very good lad,” said Genie soothingly. She cocked the pistol and leveled it at Blakely. “You will stand in my presence, Mr. Blakely.

Grant stared at his Genie in disbelief. She stood tall, chin raised, gun cocked and steady. He let go of Blakely and moved out of the line of fire. Blakely slowly got to his feet, his hands raised.

“Now, Mr. Blakely,” said Genie in a calm tone. “My brother owes you a great deal of money. However, I have it on good authority that I may shoot you with impunity since you are a traitor to the Crown. Unless you would like to test my resolve, I suggest you remain perfectly still.”

Blakely paled but did not move. “I thought you a biddable wench.”

“You are speaking to the future Mrs. Grant, so I suggest you change your tone,” declared Grant. “Darling, shall I tie him up for you?”

“That would be delightful, dearest,” said Genie in an airy tone, never once taking her eyes from Blakely. “Run along now, children, and go outside. It is too nice a day to be indoors.”

The urchins, wide eyed and slack jawed, filed out of the cellar with a few bows and “aye, miladys.” Grant searched the floor where he had broken up the chair for the bonds that had been used to tie Genie.

Grant glanced at his future bride with a sizzle of excitement. She was brave and strong, and he could not picture one moment of his life without her. He bent down to collect the ropes.

“Drop the gun!” A figure stood in the doorway, a large pistol in hand. It was a man unknown to Grant. Had Blakely’s friends come at the wrong time?

Genie turned to the intruder and Blakely pounced, slamming her to the ground and wrenching the gun from her hand. Grant lunged, but Blakely regained his feet and lowered the gun at Genie. Grant fell on her, protecting her with his body.

“Grant!” called Marchford.

A flash and a pop, and the room filled with gun smoke.

“Genie! Genie, are you all right?” called Grant.

“Yes,” coughed Genie. “Slightly crushed. What happened? Are you hurt?”

Was he? Grant stood and helped Genie to her feet. Nothing in particular was ailing him. Marchford, Thornton, and the unknown man stood in the doorway, all with pistols in hand. Blakely lay crumpled on the floor.

“You shot him?” Grant asked Marchford, even as he drew Genie into his arms to hide her face from the corpse.

“No,” answered Marchford.

“I did,” said the man. “Mr. Neville, servant of the Crown.”

“Pleasure, Mr. Neville,” said Grant.

“Yes, indeed,” said Genie.

“You must have got my message and brought the cavalry,” Grant commented to Marchford.

“Indeed I did come, but I cannot account for Mr. Neville’s presence.”

“We have had the Candyman under surveillance for a while,” said Neville. “Some of my operatives thought he was acting shady, so I determined to check it out for myself.”

“Well, I for one am glad you did!” declared Grant. “Come, Genie, let’s get you out of here.”

They walked up the steps, blinking in the sunlight of the afternoon.

“Milady!” shouted Jem. The lad ran and put his arms around Genie.