Evan looked at me, amused. “So did you.” He leaned forward and patted his horse’s neck. “I do not help a redcoat on principle, and I think the Luddites have a just cause, but what is your excuse?”

“It must be your bad influence,” I said.

“Perhaps.” I caught the edge of his rogue’s smile. “Or perhaps it is because you are an outlaw at heart.”

I was thinking up a suitable retort when I heard the sound of galloping hooves coming toward us. One rider, at full speed. Dangerous along such a dark road. Evan must have heard it at the same time, for he reined in his horse. I drew Callista to a halt alongside.

“Someone is in a hurry,” Evan said. He flipped open his saddlebag and drew out a pistol.

My heart quickened. “Mulholland?” I asked, gathering my reins, but even as I said it, I knew it could not be so. Mulholland would never travel alone.

Who, then, was hurtling toward us at such speed?

The horse and its rider—dark silhouettes against the moon-silvered road—thundered into view. At the sight of us, the rider sat back, half halting upon the reins until the horse slowed. The wild gallop toward us shifted into a slower gait. Whoever it was certainly knew how to manage a horse.

The rider—now clearly a man in a greatcoat—eased his horse into a trot. He raised his hand, a commanding wave signaling us to stay where we were, and with that action I finally recognized the broad-shouldered figure.

“It is Mr. Kent!”

“Are you sure?” Evan demanded, but before I could answer, the distance between us and the rider had dwindled enough for Evan to recognize the Runner too. He lowered his pistol. “I thought he was in London. What is he doing here?”

A good question, and clearly about to be answered since Mr. Kent was already reining in. Both man and beast were panting, their breaths puffing into mist before their mouths.

“Thank God I have found you,” Kent managed, walking Caesar up to us. “Your sister sent me.”

“Julia? Is something wrong?” Good God, had she collapsed again?

“No, nothing is wrong with your sister, I assure you. But Lady Hester and Miss Grant have run away from Davenport Hall.”

Evan straightened in his saddle. “Damn.” He gathered his reins. “Which way did they go? Are they on foot? We must find them. Hester will not last long in this cold.”

“Wait,” Mr. Kent said. “It is worse. I am here because I followed your brother, Lord Deele, to Davenport Hall, and he has brought Lord Duffield too.”

Deele and Duffy were here? “They came together? In the same carriage?” I asked.