“I am not going anywhere,” Mr. Kent said to the thieftaker. “You should, however, let the ladies leave the room.”

“I am not leaving,” I protested.

“Nor am I,” Julia said.

“I would like to leave,” Miss Grant said. “Please, let me leave.”

“Who are you?” Mulholland demanded.

“I am Elizabeth Grant. I do not have anything to do with this—” She stopped, realizing the mistake she had just made, and cast me an agonized glance.

Would Mulholland recognize her name? It seemed unlikely. As far as we knew, Lord Deele had not hired the Runners to find his sister.

“Let her leave,” Mr. Kent said quickly, covering the slip.

“No one is leaving,” Mulholland snapped. “For chrissakes, Kent, this is simple. Lower your gun. I’ll take Belford and you’ll keep your position.”

“Keep my position?” Kent repeated through his teeth. “Are you so sure you have the support you think you have? Soldiers like us are expendable, Mulholland. You should know that by now.”

“I say, what is going on here?”

Good God, was that Duffy coming up the stairs?

At the doorway, Samuel abruptly stood to attention.

Weatherly stepped aside. “Lord Duffield, my ladies,” he announced as if Duffy were joining us for tea.

“There was no one downstairs to greet me,” Duffy complained, walking into the room. “The door was wide open and I—” He looked around the room.

“Who the hell is this?” Mulholland demanded.

“Mr. Mulholland, this is our brother, Lord Duffield, who is also a magistrate,” I said, for once glad to see Duffy. “Lord Duffield, allow me to introduce Mr. Mulholland, a thieftaker, Mr. Kent, a Bow Street agent who is assisting us, and”—I paused—“and Peter, my groom. Mr. Mulholland has mistaken Peter for a desperate highwayman and has come to make an arrest.”

Mulholland glared at me. “He is not your groom.”

“Do not speak until you are given leave!” Duffy ordered Mulholland. “And put your gun down, man. You are in the presence of ladies.”

Reluctantly, Mulholland lowered his pistol and gave a nod to Pritchard, who followed suit. With a release of pent-up breath, Mr. Kent lowered his gun too. I nudged Evan. He glanced at me unhappily but brought his gun to his side.

“Augusta, are you saying these men have forced their way into your home?”

“They have,” I said.

“Without a warrant, my lord,” Mr. Kent added helpfully.

Julia stepped out from behind him. “They have scared us quite horribly, Duffy, but we are unharmed. Thank goodness for Mr. Kent here, and…ah”—she stumbled for a moment—“Peter, who have both defended us most admirably.”

“No warrant?” Duffy echoed. “No warrant? Mulholland, is it?”

“Aye,” Mulholland said, then recollected himself and added, “My lord. But she is lying. This man is not her groom. He is—”