John grasped her elbow and quickly stepped further into the shadows. A man on horseback was riding toward them. When he neared, he turned the horse and rode back. John held them in place and she watched the man ride back and forth in front of a drive as if he were guarding the entrance. As it was on the other side of the road, there was little they could do without being seen. “Is that it?” she asked as quietly as she could.

  John nodded, then pointed behind them. The two retraced their steps until they were well away from the drive and crossed to the opposite side of the road.

  “What do we do now?”

  “At least we know they haven’t moved the crates or the area wouldn’t be guarded.”

  “How did you get in last night, past the rider?”

  John watched the road. “He wasn’t there last night, which makes me wonder if they aren’t moving the crates tonight.”

  “Or, they hadn’t known at the time a boat had tried to follow the sloop,” she offered.

  John turned to look at her. “Yes, that is possible.” He returned his focus to the road ahead. “I need to get closer to determine if they are going to move everything or if this is a precaution.”

  “What shall I do?” Her heart hammered in her chest. She had insisted on coming along and would have followed in the event they left her behind again, but now Geneviève was beginning to appreciate the danger they were in.

  “I need you to remain here. If you see Elizabeth, Bridges, Valentine, and his men, stop them from going further until I get back.”

  Geneviève nodded. At least he wasn’t insisting she stay here for her own good and it was necessary that she stayed to keep the others from riding into potential danger.

  “I shouldn’t be long.” With that, he disappeared into the shadows. She pulled out the new watch John had purchased for her and tilted it toward the moon, noting the time.

  Chapter 26

  Geneviève paced back and forth beneath the trees then settled on a fallen log, then paced a bit more. So much for danger or excitement. She was bored half out of her skull. Yet, every time a twig snapped or leaves rustled she nearly jumped out of her skin. How could one be bored and on edge at the same time?

  She checked her watch for the tenth time. It had been nearly an hour, yet John hadn’t returned nor had the others come with Valentine and their men. Where was everyone?

  She wasn’t as concerned with Bridges and the others, but worry about John mounted with each moment. Why hadn’t he returned? Should she go to him? What if he were captured or worse? But, what if she wasn’t here when the others arrived? Who would warn them?

  “Damn and blast,” Geneviève muttered quietly.

  Something was wrong or John would have returned by now and it was up to her to find out so that she could warn the others.

  With that in mind, she slid her hand into her pocket, withdrew the gun, and followed the road toward the drive, staying to the shadows as John had. She came near to where she thought the entrance should be and stopped short. Her brother was on his knees, facing the drive and another man stood over him, a gun aimed at his head. Her steps faltered for a moment and her heart ceased before it renewed a hammering in her chest.

  “Where are the others?” the man demanded.

  “There aren’t any,” John bit out.

  “You wouldn’t be out here alone. There were two people in the boat.”

  So, that is why there is a guard.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  The man drew back and hit John across the face with his fist. Her brother fell to the side but caught himself by bracing his hand against the ground.

  “Answer me.”

  “All right.” John held up his hand as if to surrender. “If you must know, he drowned. The body should wash up any day if the current doesn’t take it.”

  The man tilted his head as if to study John and weigh his words. “You telling the truth?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  She scanned the area but nobody was about and she weighed the decision as to whether to intervene. He must be the one who was patrolling the road as the horse stood not far away with no rider.

  The man stepped back. “To your feet.”

  John looked at him. “Why?”

  “I’m taking you inside.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Would you rather I shot you here?” the man laughed. “I can kill you here, or there, it makes no matter to me, but Hugh will have some questions.”

  “Who the bloody hell is Hugh?”

  The man cocked his head. “You don’t know?”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything. My friend and I were sailing to Cricklade when your sloop tried to run my friend's fishing boat over. I am just hoping to find a place to rest.” John looked around. “There is nothing out here.”

  The man tilted his head to the other side and relaxed his body, letting the arm that held the gun drop, as if he was considering that John was actually telling the truth. Geneviève nearly snorted. The village they stayed in was but a half-hour walk behind them. If that man knew anything he would have known John would have passed through it.

  John shifted so quickly that she would have missed it if she had blinked. One moment her brother was on his knees, the next, he was crouched with his pistol drawn, pointed at the other man. They each held a gun on the other. She had to act now. One of them was bound to shoot and she couldn’t live with herself if her brother was killed while she stood by and did nothing.

  Though her whole body shook, Geneviève quickly moved from the shadows and came upon the man. He turned as she leveled the gun at his face. “Lower your gun.”

  He stared at her with wide, surprised eyes but did not move. John scooted to the side and came to his feet and relieved the man of his gun.

  The man quickly looked from Geneviève to John and opened his mouth wide. John didn’t wait to hear what the man might have said but struck him at the side of the head with the butt of his gun. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap at her feet.

  She took a few steps back but did not look away from the unconscious body. John moved about, but she didn’t know what he was doing except that he moved in the vicinity of the horse. He returned a moment later and dropped down beside the smuggler. He dragged him further into the woods and leaned him against a tree before tying a rope around him. He then ripped the tail off of his shirt and gagged him. After standing, John brushed his hands off. “That should keep him quiet when he wakes.”

  Geneviève blinked up at him. “What of the horse?”

  John turned to look at the animal who stood silently.

  “We can’t have her returning without a rider.”

  He grasped the reins and drew the horse to the man where John tied it to a limb. Neither the horse nor the rider was going anywhere anytime soon.

  “Is that them?” Valentine pressed a spyglass into Jonathan’s hand.

  “That’s John Trent, on his knees,” Jonathan confirmed and then watched as Geneviève emerged from the shadows and aimed her gun at the other man.

  He was going to wring her neck. This was the very reason Jonathan had not wanted Geneviève to come along. What if she would have shot the man, thus alerting everyone that they were here? Worse, she could have been shot. Not that any of them were close enough to be of assistance.

  Valentine had ten men with him, one of them also watching through a spyglass. “It’s been taken care of.”

  “Let’s go,” Valentine hissed and they emerged from the shadows and quickly crossed the road.

  By the time the group had reached those two, Trent had the man trussed up and no longer a threat. Geneviève still had her gun. Hopefully, she was satisfied with this bit of excitement and would wait for the rest of them to complete the arrests.

  “Thank you,” Trent was saying to his sister as they joined them.

  “You are thanking her?” Jonathan hissed.

  Trent jerked toward him. “Yes. Otherwise, I would likely be dead.”

  Of course, he was correct, but that didn’t mean Jonathan had to like it.

  “Were you able to determine anything?” Valentine demanded of Trent.

  “There are only about a dozen men within the house and on the grounds. The crates are still in the stables and the sloop is tied to a dock along the Thames.”

  “How did you get caught?” Mrs. Trent asked. “That isn’t like you, John.”

  It was hard to tell, but Jonathan could have sworn Trent colored a bit. “I tripped in the darkness. I should have waited until he was further away before going back to where Geneviève was waiting.”

  “Well, it is a good thing she came with you. I am not yet ready to be a widow.”

  Trent cocked a grin. “I hope you’re never ready but just in case, warn me ahead of time.”

  Jonathan could not believe they were making light of the situation or Geneviève’s involvement. Of course, they had probably faced more dangerous circumstances, but that didn’t mean this incident shouldn’t be viewed without seriousness.

  “We shall split up. As there are fifteen of us—” Valentine began.

  “—Fourteen,” Jonathan corrected.

  Valentine looked at each person in the large circle before furrowing his brows. “There are fifteen, Mr. Bridges.”

  “Miss Mirabelle is not to be included in the numbers.”

  She stepped forward, shoulders back but Valentine spoke before she had a chance. “Clearly she is an asset and you are not the one in charge,” Valentine dismissed and continued, “We will break into groups of four, four, four, and three.”

  Tension spread through his body. How could he allow her to go in there? She might be shot, or killed. What the hell was Valentine thinking?

  “The four of you will enter from the road.” He pointed to Trent, his wife, Geneviève, and himself. “Two will remain by the entrance, right here.” Valentine motioned to Geneviève and Jonathan. “Trent and his wife will continue inside while my men and I will split, coming in from both sides and near the river so that they have nowhere to run.”

  Everyone nodded though Jonathan wanted to object. Geneviève should not be here at all. He wanted her safe, warm, and waiting for him, not walking into danger.

  “Let’s go.”

  At least the two of them would most likely remain out of danger. They followed Trent and his wife to the entry. As they continued forward quietly, Jonathan drew Geneviève to the side to wait. From this vantage point, they had a view of the house and would be able to see if anyone came their way. He hoped and prayed that the smugglers were rounded up before then. He did work along the docks, regularly fired his pistol to remain in practice, and participated in fights at Gentleman Jackson’s so that he was physically prepared for anything that could occur on the docks. At least he used to. It had been a regular practice until he discovered the problems at the warehouse. Then he became too busy to shoot or fight. Had he grown too soft?

  Jonathan shook the worry away. He would do what was necessary to remain alive and keep Geneviève safe. At least she hadn’t argued and insisted on charging in there with the rest of them and he should be thankful for small miracles.

  Jonathan glanced over to her. Geneviève watched the area the others had disappeared to, biting her bottom lip. “Are you all right?”

  She blinked and turned toward him. “Yes.” She looked down. “I believe so.”

  Jonathan cocked his head and studied her. “What is wrong?”

  She blew out a breath. “I know how to shoot but there is a huge difference between aiming at a target and pointing the pistol at a man’s head.”

  Jonathan studied her. He could tell her that if she hadn’t insisted on coming along that would have never occurred. Yet, if she hadn’t, Trent might be captured or worse. “At least you didn’t need to shoot him.”

  She smiled weakly. “I would like to think I would have, if necessary.” She paused and looked into his eyes. “But, I am not sure I could have.”

  He would like to think that he could use this admission if they ever discussed her coming to the warehouse again, but realized he may not. It was one thing to shoot a bottle. It was another to know you are going to possibly take a life. Not many could make the decision lightly despite the circumstances. He’d never been in that position himself. Nobody can predict what their reaction would be once in the situation.

  “I am glad we are back here,” she finally admitted. “This is about as much excitement and adventure as I wish to experience for a while.”

  He bit back a grin. Though the items being recovered most likely came from his warehouse, Jonathan agreed with her. Valentine, his men, and the Trents were experienced in these matters. He was better suited for guarding Geneviève until this was over. However, if someone were about to harm even a hair on her head, the man would be shot. Of that, Jonathan had no doubt. He just hoped it didn’t come to that.

  Shots rang out from the vicinity of the house and the stables. Men shouted and some cried out. Geneviève stiffened at his side and she withdrew her pistol from her pocket once again. He did likewise, watching for activity or anyone coming in their direction. They could only see shadows as people ran and ducked.

  Someone raced toward them, but he couldn’t tell who it was in the darkness. He grasped a low-hanging limb and pulled himself up as Geneviève stepped back into the darkness. As he neared, Jonathan knew it was one of the smugglers because he did not recognize the man and he wasn’t about to let the man get away. Jonathan held his breath as his arms and shoulder’s burned, waiting. The man rushed forward and at the last moment, Geneviève stepped from the shadows. What the hell was she doing?

  The man stumbled back and eyed her with suspicion before he began to level his gun. Jonathan didn’t give the man a chance to take aim and swung towards him. As Jonathan’s feet connected with the man’s side, the gun flew out of the smuggler's hand. He fell backward with Jonathan landing on him. The man struggled but he wasn’t as strong. The man stilled when a shadow fell over them. Jonathan glanced up to find Geneviève pointing a pistol at the man. The smuggler gave up the fight and let his hands fall back on the ground. Jonathan found the man’s gun, picked it up, and pocketed it before withdrawing his own. “Stay right there.”

  He just looked from Jonathan to Geneviève and back again, over and over.

  “Would you rather guard him or watch for others attempting escape?” he asked Geneviève.

  She gave a little shrug. “I’ll let you deal with him and I will watch.”

  Jonathan took over pointing a gun at the man as Geneviève returned to her earlier post. “Just don’t hurt him too much,” she quietly called out.

  The man’s eyes widened and Jonathan grinned down at him. If necessary, he could knock the man out in the event another came toward them.

  A few moments later the shouting and gunfire had died and they waited in the silence. Certainly, they weren’t the only ones left standing.

  He didn’t even want to consider the possibility. If Trent, his wife, Valentine, or his men had been killed it would be his fault. He was the one who wanted to find the smugglers and the crates, but it wasn’t worth losing lives over.

  Geneviève straightened as a shadow moved down the drive. Was it another smuggler or one of their men? What if the smugglers had won? That would leave him and Geneviève in a precarious position.

  “We have eleven of them,” Trent called. “One may have escaped.”

  Geneviève blew out a breath and Jonathan relaxed and called out. “We have him.”

  Trent stopped when he became visible in the moonlight. “We got here just in time. Two sloops were anchored on the river and the men were beginning to move the crates.”

  Jonathan kicked the man on the ground. “Get to your feet.”

  He struggled a bit but did as he was told. Trent grabbed the man’s arm and marched him toward the house. Jonathan and Geneviève pocketed their pistols and she turned to follow her brother. Jonathan grasped her arm, halting her. Geneviève stopped and looked at him.

  “When we return to London the two of us need to have a long discussion.”

  She looked deeply into his eyes. “I believe we have said all that is needed.”

  Blasted woman. She was going to be difficult. “I love you and wish to take care of you.”

  A sad smile came to her lips. “I do love you.” She placed a hand against his cheek. “I don’t wish to be taken care of.” With that, she turned away and followed her brother.

  Chapter 27

  “Where have the three of you been?” Bentley demanded when Geneviève, John, and Elizabeth arrived back at Acker’s townhouse.

  Geneviève wasn’t about to tell him. She would let that explanation fall to John or Elizabeth. They certainly had more experience explaining away their many disappearances. Besides, she was exhausted. After the smugglers were rounded up, John arranged for a carriage to return the four of them back to London. Bridges had barely spoken to her and when she did catch him looking at her, his jaw was tight and his eyes dark. If John and Elizabeth weren’t in the carriage with them, she would demand an explanation for his cool behavior, though she suspected it had everything to do with the fact she refused to marry him.

  Of course, Geneviève would love to be Bridge’s wife, and truthfully, wanted it almost more than anything in the world, just not at the price of what little freedom she had. She wouldn’t be coddled. Why couldn’t she make him understand?

  Exhaustion pulled at her entire being. None of them had slept the night before since Bridges assisted some of the men who had come with Valentine in identifying the crates and which warehouses they’d come from and where they should be returned to. John and Elizabeth assisted Valentine in questioning the smugglers. They were only part of the operation and the leader was still missing. Geneviève didn’t know if Valentine would continue the investigation or if it would be John and Elizabeth since they were working for the Home Office. No matter who took over and continued to investigate, it was no longer Geneviève’s concern. She’d done her part though she still didn’t know if her mother’s crates were recovered. They may never find them, which was disheartening, but there was little Geneviève could do. Thieves had been at work and trusted men took advantage of owners.