A few yards away, Lord Evan and Mr. Kent were already mounted, Lord Evan leaning down to receive a lamp and instructions from Charlotte. No doubt the direction to Holyhead. Both men had pistols in saddle holsters, and Mr. Kent had a rifle. A Baker, if I was not mistaken, which stood to reason since he had been a soldier.

“Well, are you coming?” Julia demanded as a groom handed her up into the phaeton.

It seemed Julia was adamant. Still, I wanted Weatherly with us. It would be a squeeze for him in the groom’s seat, but it would have to do.

“I am coming,” I said, taking the hand of the groom waiting for me.

Finally Weatherly, clad in his greatcoat and tricorn hat, jogged into the stable yard with our coachman’s blunderbuss in hand.

I waved him over, then climbed up onto the right step and swung into the driver’s seat, the well-slung cabin rocking into balance under my weight as I gathered the reins. The groom handed me the long whip and stepped back, making way for Weatherly to climb into his higher perch.

“My lady, John Driver insisted I bring Hades with me. Just in case,” he said, folding his long body into the small, raised seat and laying the blunderbuss across his thighs. The gun had accompanied us on many of our adventures and survived an unceremonious dumping in a horse trough. It had, to some degree, become a lucky talisman. The groom handed up a lamp to Weatherly, the yellow light catching upon the long metal barrel in a dark glint.

“Are you set?” I asked. He nodded. I looked across at my sister. One last attempt to get her to see reason. “I do not always tell you what to do, Julia. But if I do say something, it is because I am worried for your safety. Are you really sure you are up to this?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gus, just drive,” she said, staring ahead.

A good idea, since in the distance I could see a familiar figure stalking down the front steps of the hall. Our brother jabbed his flat hand high in the air, commanding us to wait. I had no idea why he thought I would obey.

“I’ll take care of it,” Charlotte called, her hand raised in farewell.

“Thank you. For everything,” I called back.

I signaled to the groom at the head of the eager offside horse to let go of the bridle. He jumped back, and with a flick and release of the reins, we clattered across the cobbles, then onto the gravel driveway, with Evan and Mr. Kent following on horseback. I could not see Duffy’s face as we passed—the distance too great and the light too dim—but I had felt his outrage many times over the years and had to admit, I felt rather shamefully pleased that this moment would probably top them all.